After the patients came Miss Ropes, and after her the domestic staff, beginning with the less valuable members and working up gradually to Dutton and Cook.  It was possible to trace the progress of the younger and slighter maids by a swiftly-descending squeal, while that of the more portly was visible as a leisurely protuberance.  At last Cook was the only one left—­Dutton was not feeling quite up to performing the journey.  She was a new cook, and very precious.  She had all the generous proportions of her profession, and with them went a placid temper and a great sense of personal dignity.

“Oh, Cook,” said Miss Ropes, “you needn’t go down, you know, unless you want to.”

There are times when official regulations must be sacrificed to diplomacy.  But Cook was in high good humour, and quite determined on doughty deeds.  Miss Ropes said no more.

The task of getting a wide cook into a narrow canvas tube proved quite unexpectedly difficult; and, when it was accomplished, so far from sticking out her elbows as brakes, she had to press them close to her sides in order to move at all.  With the aid of a friendly pressure applied to the top of her head by Sister she got slowly under way.  The chute bulged portentously.  The bulge travelled a few feet; then it stuck and became violently agitated.  Sister clutched at the top of the chute, while Dutton hung manfully on to the other end.

“Don’t struggle,” said Sister in a stern professional voice.  “Keep your arms still, and you’ll come down all right.”  A muffled screaming and a dangerously increased agitation of the chute was the only reply.  Cook had quite lost her head and was having violent hysterics.  Three or four of us raced upstairs to aid Sister in keeping the top end of the apparatus from jerking free, while several more went to the assistance of the flustered Dutton.

Cook ceased to struggle for a moment, but only through exhaustion; for when Sister seized the opportunity to repeat her advice a fresh paroxysm came on, and everybody “stood to” at their posts again.  Miss Ropes conceived the idea of attaching a cord to Cook’s armpits and hauling her up again by main force.  She dashed into the house, and found a demoralised kitchen-maid calling incoherently for help down the telephone.

Meanwhile Cook had had her worst spasm.  We hung grimly on to the chute, dismally confident that something would have to give way soon.  Suddenly there was a rending sound; the seam of the canvas ripped open and a gaping slit appeared, through which Cook’s freed arm flapped wildly.  Then the arm disappeared as the body to which it was attached gathered momentum; and when Miss Ropes appeared with a length of cord she was just in time to see her retainer return to the world—­alive, but practically inside out.

As soon as Cook recovered her breath it was apparent that her temper was no longer placid.  Forgetting entirely that it was by her own choice that she had made the trip, she gave us all to understand that she believed the whole incident to have been specially arranged for her humiliation.  She gave notice on the spot, and staggered indignantly to the house to pack her box, leaving her employer once again face to face with the Servant Problem.