Martha smiled, a slow, calm, tolerant smile.  “You are perfeckly clear,” she said reassuringly.  “Only I ain’t been educated up to seein’ things that way.  Seems to me, if everybody got their dessert, as you calls it, some o’ them that’s feedin’ so expensive now at the grand hotels wouldn’t have a square meal.  It’s the ones that ain’t earned ’em, havin’ the square meal and the dessert, that puts a good man, like my Sammy, out o’ a job.  But that’s neither here nor there.  It’s all bound to come right some day—­only meanwhiles, I wish livin’ wasn’t so high.  What with good steak twenty-eight cents a pound, an’ its bein’ as much as your life is worth to even ast the price o’ fresh vegetables, it takes some contrivin’ to get along.  Not to speak o’ potatas twenty-five cents the half-peck, an’ every last one o’ my fam’ly as fond of ’em as if they was fresh from Ireland, instead o’ skippin’ a generation on both sides.”

“But, my good woman!” exclaimed Mrs. Sherman, shocked, “what do you mean by talking of porterhouse steak and fresh vegetables this time of year?  Oughtn’t you to economize?  Isn’t it extravagant for you to use such expensive cuts of meat?  I’m sure there are others that are cheaper—­more suited to your—­your income.”

“Certaintly there is.  Chuck steak is cheap.  Chuck steak’s so cheap that about all it costs you is a few cents to the butcher, an’ the price of the store teeth you need, after you’ve broke your own tryin’ to chew it.  But, you see, my notion is, to try to give my fam’ly the sort o’ stuff that’s nourishin’.  Not just somethin’ to eat, but food.  I don’t believe their stummicks realize they belong to poor folks.  I’m not envyin’ the rich, mind you.  Dear no!  I wouldn’t be hired to clutter up my insides with the messes I see goin’ up to the tables of some I work for.  Cocktails, an’ entrys, an’ foody-de-gra-gra, an’ suchlike.  No!  I believe in reel, straight nourishment.  The things that builds up your bones, an’ gives you red blood, an’ good muscle, so’s you can hold down your job, an’ hold up your head.  I believe in payin’ for that kind o’ food, if I do have to work for it.”

Mrs. Sherman took up the book she had dropped at Martha’s entrance.

“You certainly are a character,” she observed.

“Thank you, ’m,” said Martha.

“O, and by the way, before you go—­I want you to see that Mr. Ronald’s rooms are put in perfect order to-day.  I don’t care to trust it to the girls, but you can have one of them to help you, if you like, provided you are sure to oversee her.  You know how particular I am about my brother Frank’s rooms.  Be sure nothing is neglected.”

“Yes’m,” said Martha.

CHAPTER VI

The next morning Eliza met her at the area-gate, showing a face of ominous sympathy, wagging a doleful head.