Faith.  Yes.

Mrs March.  Well, then, Cook will show you where things are kept, and how to lay the table and that.  Your wages will be thirty until we see where we are.  Every other Sunday, and Thursday afternoon.  What about dresses?

Faith. [Looking at her dress] I’ve only got this—­I had it before, of course, it hasn’t been worn.

Mrs March.  Very neat.  But I meant for the house.  You’ve no money, I suppose?

Faith.  Only one pound thirteen, ma’am.

Mrs March.  We shall have to find you some dresses, then.  Cook will take you to-morrow to Needham’s.  You needn’t wear a cap unless you like.  Well, I hope you’ll get on.  I’ll leave you with Cook now.

     After one look at the girl, who is standing motionless, she goes
     out.

Faith. [With a jerk, as if coming out of plaster of Paris] She’s never been in prison!

Cook. [Comfortably] Well, my dear, we can’t all of us go everywhere, ’owever ’ard we try!

     She is standing back to the dresser, and turns to it, opening the
     right-hand drawer.

Cook.  Now, ’ere’s the wine.  The master likes ’is glass.  And ’ere’s the spirits in the tantaliser ’tisn’t ever kept locked, in case Master Johnny should bring a friend in.  Have you noticed Master Johnny? [Faith nods] Ah!  He’s a dear boy; and wonderful high-principled since he’s been in the war.  He’ll come to me sometimes and say:  “Cook, we’re all going to the devil!” They think ’ighly of ’im as a poet.  He spoke up for you beautiful.

Faith.  Oh!  He spoke up for me?

Cook.  Well, of course they had to talk you over.

Faith.  I wonder if they think I’ve got feelings.

Cook. [Regarding her moody, pretty face] Why!  We all have feelin’s!

Faith.  Not below three hundred a year.

Cook. [Scandalised] Dear, dear!  Where were you educated?

Faith.  I wasn’t.

Cook.  Tt!  Well—­it’s wonderful what a change there is in girls since my young days [Pulling out a drawer] Here’s the napkins.  You change the master’s every day at least because of his moustache and the others every two days, but always clean ones Sundays.  Did you keep Sundays in there?

Faith. [Smiling] Yes.  Longer chapel.

Cook.  It’ll be a nice change for you, here.  They don’t go to Church; they’re agnosticals. [Patting her shoulder] How old are you?

Faith.  Twenty.

Cook.  Think of that—­and such a life!  Now, dearie, I’m your friend.  Let the present bury the past—­as the sayin’ is.  Forget all about yourself, and you’ll be a different girl in no time.

Faith.  Do you want to be a different woman?