“Will you!” exclaimed Sophia angrily, and gave him a clout on his old head.  He barked snappishly, and retired to the kitchen again, disillusioned, tired of the world, and nursing his terrific grievance.  “I do declare,” said Sophia, “that dog gets worse and worse.”

Constance said nothing.

When everything was done that could be done for the aged virgin in the basket, the sisters rose from their knees, stiffly; and they began to whisper to each other about the prospects of obtaining a fresh servant.  They also debated whether they could tolerate the criminal eccentricities of the present occupant of the cave for yet another three weeks.  Evidently they were in the midst of a crisis.  To judge from Constance’s face every imaginable woe had been piled on them by destiny without the slightest regard for their powers of resistance.  Her eyes had the permanent look of worry, and there was in them also something of the self-defensive.  Sophia had a bellicose air, as though the creature in the cave had squarely challenged her, and she was decided to take up the challenge.  Sophia’s tone seemed to imply an accusation of Constance.  The general tension was acute.

Then suddenly their whispers expired, and the door opened and the servant came in to lay the supper.  Her nose was high, her gaze cruel, radiant, and conquering.  She was a pretty and an impudent girl of about twenty-three.  She knew she was torturing her old and infirm mistresses.  She did not care.  She did it purposely.  Her motto was:  War on employers, get all you can out of them, for they will get all they can out of you.  On principle—­the sole principle she possessed—­she would not stay in a place more than six months.  She liked change.  And employers did not like change.  She was shameless with men.  She ignored all orders as to what she was to eat and what she was not to eat.  She lived up to the full resources of her employers.  She could be to the last degree slatternly.  Or she could be as neat as a pin, with an apron that symbolized purity and propriety, as to-night.  She could be idle during a whole day, accumulating dirty dishes from morn till eve.  On the other hand she could, when she chose, work with astonishing celerity and even thoroughness.  In short, she was born to infuriate a mistress like Sophia and to wear out a mistress like Constance.  Her strongest advantage in the struggle was that she enjoyed altercation; she revelled in a brawl; she found peace tedious.  She was perfectly calculated to convince the sisters that times had worsened, and that the world would never again be the beautiful, agreeable place it once had been.

Her gestures as she laid the table were very graceful, in the pert style.  She dropped forks into their appointed positions with disdain; she made slightly too much noise; when she turned she manoeuvred her swelling hips as though for the benefit of a soldier in a handsome uniform.