Justine Harrison, graduate servant of the American School of Domestic Science, arrived the next day.  If Mrs. Salisbury was half consciously cherishing an expectation of some one as crisp and cheerful as a trained nurse might have been, she was disappointed.  Justine was simply a nice, honest-looking American country girl, in a cheap, neat, brown suit and a dreadful hat.  She smiled appreciatively when Alexandra showed her her attractive little room, unlocked what Sandy saw to be a very orderly trunk, changed her hot suit at once for the gray gingham uniform, and went to Mrs. Salisbury’s room with great composure, for instructions.  In passing, Alexandra—­feeling the situation to be a little odd, yet bravely, showed her the back stairway and the bathroom, and murmured something about books being in the little room off the drawing-room downstairs.  Justine smiled brightly.

“Oh, I brought several books with me,” she said, “and I subscribe to two weekly magazines and one monthly.  So usually I have enough to read.”

“How do you do?  You look very cool and comfortable, Justine.  Now, you’ll have to find your own way about downstairs.  You’ll see the coffee next to the bread box, and the brooms are in the laundry closet.  Just do the best you can.  Mr. Salisbury likes dry toast in the morning—­eggs in some way.  We get eggs from the milkman; they seem fresher.  But you have to tell him the day before.  And I understood that you’ll do most of the washing?  Yes.  My old Nancy was here day before yesterday, so there’s not much this week.”  It was in some such disconnected strain as this that Mrs. Salisbury welcomed and initiated the new maid.

Justine bowed reassuringly.

“I’ll find everything, Madam.  And do you wish me to manage and to market for awhile until you are about again?”

The invalid sent a pleading glance to Sandy.

“Oh, I think my daughter will do that,” she said.

“Oh, now, why, Mother?” Sandy asked, in affectionate impatience.  “I don’t begin to know as much about it as Justine probably does.  Why not let her?”

“If Madam will simply tell me what sum she usually spends on the table,” said Justine, “I will take the matter in hand.”

Mrs. Salisbury hesitated.  This was the very stronghold of her authority.  It seemed terrible to her, indelicate, to admit a stranger.

“Well, it varies a little,” she said restlessly.  “I am not accustomed to spending a set sum.”  She addressed her daughter.  “You see, I’ve been paying Nancy every week, dear,” said she, “and the other laundry.  And little things come up—­”

“What sum would be customary, in a family this size?” Alexandra asked briskly of the graduate servant.

Justine was business-like.

“Seven dollars for two persons is the smallest sum we are allowed to handle,” she said promptly.  “After that each additional person calls for three dollars weekly in our minimum scale.  Four or five dollars a week per person, not including the maid, is the usual allowance.”