“Do your best to let me have two day frocks and an evening frock,” said Lola. “And I will come for them sometime Friday early. Don’t fail me, will you, Mrs. Rumbold? You can’t think and I couldn’t possibly explain to you how important it is.” “Well, I should say not. I should think it is important, indeed! Little Lola Breezy’s doing herself well these days, staying with the nobility and gentry and all.” The woman was amazed to the extent of indiscretion. How did a lady’s maid, daughter of the Breezys of Queen’s Road, Bayswater, perform such a miracle? They were certainly topsy-turvy times, these. And then Lola turned quickly and caught Mrs. Rumbold’s arm. “You are on your honor to say nothing about me to Lady Cheyne, remember, and if, by any chance, you mention my name, bear in mind that it is Madame de Brézé. You understand?” There was a moment’s hesitation followed by a little gasp and a bow. “I quite understand, Modum, and I thank you for your custom.” But before Mrs. Rumbold returned to her workroom, in which the trunks looked more perky now, she remained where she stood for a moment and rolled her eyes. “Well,” she asked herself, “did you _ever_? Modum de Brézé!—And she looks it too, and speaks it. My word, them orders! Blowed if the modern girl don’t cop the current bun. It isn’t for me to say anything, but for the sake of that nice little woman in the watchmaker’s shop, I hope it’s all right. That’s all.—And now, your ladyship, what can I have the pleasure of doing for you, if you please? And thank you for comin’, I’m sure. Times is that dull——” VII When Lola went into Feo’s room that evening it was with the intention of asking for her first holiday. It was a large order; she knew that, because her mistress had made innumerable engagements for the week. But this was to be another and most important rung in that ladder, which, if not achieved, rendered useless the others that she had climbed. She was overjoyed to find Feo in an excellent mood. Things had been going well. The world had been full of amusement and a new man had turned up, a pucca man this time, discovered at the Winchfields’, constant in his attentions ever since. He owned a string of race horses and trained them at Dan Thirlwall’s old place behind Worthing, which made him all the more interesting. Feo adored the excitement of racing. And so it was easy for Lola to approach her subject and she did so at the moment when she had her ladyship in her power, the curling irons steaming. “If you please, my lady,” she said, in a perfectly even voice and with her eyes on the black bobbed hair, “would it be quite convenient for you if I had a week off from Thursday?” “But what the devil does that matter?” said Feo. “If I don’t give you a week off, I suppose you’ll take it.”