you know what you ought to expect them to do; you know what wages they ought to have and what sort of references are good and what not. Oh, Mrs. Doveton, do be a duck and see them for me!"
Mrs. Doveton did not refuse, but she murmured something about not being particular fond of taking things upon herself, and it was plain that she said less than the truth.
"Can't you see them yourself, miss?" she said. "It's quite easy. I'll tell you all the sort of things you want to ask them."
"Oh, I can't," said Jane. "You see, there are paying guests to see too—and you know what I am. I shall find myself telling the cook she can have breakfast in bed if she likes, and asking the young married lady with husband or brother engaged all day whether she understands plain cooking and if she's an early riser and quick and clean at her work."
"There, now," said Mrs. Doveton, "you see you do know what to ask 'em. And is there many more lodgers coming—if that's what you call them, miss, if I may ask?"
"Oh, we call them Pigs," said Jane frankly; "at least, we used to, but I shall begin calling them lodgers at once. It's much lander—and besides, they are lodgers."
"Boarders, if with meals," said Mrs. Doveton, "I shouldn't have too many at a time, miss, if I was you—not all at once. Make the gells discontented—and you've got a couple that knows their work, that's one thing."
It was evident that in Mrs. Doveton's mind there were other things which knowing their work was not.
"Let me help you with the currants," said Jane, getting another fork. ("A silver one, please, miss," said Mrs. Doveton.) There were a good many currants, but the leaves at the bottom of the basket were showing plainly—leaves streaked with currant-juice and sprinkled with strigs. Jane's hands were deeply dyed again before Mrs. Doveton began to yield.
"Well, miss, if I do see these persons for you, you won't
