they heard it clanging through the house. But they heard nothing else. No coming of footsteps. They rang again, and then Jane sped down to the kitchen.
Mrs. Dadd was snatching a moment's rest with her feet on a chair. She often snatched moments' rest. Little Addie was trying to feed the cat with a jammy spoon.
"Why doesn't someone answer the bell?"
"Forbes has gone to post with a letter, Miss Quested," said Mrs. Dadd in leisurely explanation, while Jane almost danced with impatience. "It's Stanley's day out, and Gladys is always in the shop, I understand, of an afternoon."
"Well," said Jane, "I think you might have come."
"I couldn't undertake to answer bells, Miss Quested," said Mrs. Dadd; "that's the servants' place."
"But, good gracious me!—when there's no one else? We might have been on fire or being murdered!"
"Oh no," said Mrs. Dadd, "not that, I think, Miss Quested."
"Well, I've upset a lot of water, and I want you to come at once and mop it up. Bring a pail, please, and a cloth, and do be quick. It's soaking into the rug and the carpet. Please make haste, Mrs. Dadd."
But Mrs. Dadd was shaking her head slowly and calmly.
"Oh no, Mass Quested," she said, "I couldn't do that. I couldn't undertake to do anything menial."
"But there's nothing menial about mopping up some water. I'd do it myself."
"People feel differently about things, I know," Mrs. Dadd conceded.
"But who cleans the kitchen floor?" asked Jane.
"I don't know, Miss Quested," was the unforgettable reply. " Addie, come here and leave the cat alone."
"Do you mean," said Jane incredulously, "that you aren't going to mop up that water?"
"You'll excuse me, Miss Quested, I'm sure. I've come down in the world, but not so low as that," she simpered. "Oh no!"
