Miss Mary loves 'em!
Now then, let me see you lay the cloth.
She takes a tablecloth out, hands it to FAITH, and while the girl
begins to unfold the cloth she crosses to the service shutter.
And here's where we pass the dishes through into the pantry.
The door is opened, and MRS MARCH'S voice says: "Cook--a minute!"
[Preparing to go] Salt cellars one at each corner--four, and the peppers.
[From the door] Now the decanters. Oh! you'll soon get on. [MRS MARCH
"Cook!"] Yes, ma'am.
She goes. FAITH, left alone, stands motionless, biting her pretty
lip, her eyes mutinous. Hearing footsteps, she looks up. MR BLY,
with his pail and cloths, appears outside.
BLY. [Preparing to work, while FAITH prepares to set the salt cellars]
So you've got it! You never know your luck. Up to-day and down
to-morrow. I'll 'ave a glass over this to-night. What d'you get?
FAITH. Thirty.
BLY. It's not the market price, still, you're not the market article.
Now, put a good heart into it and get to know your job; you'll find Cook
full o' philosophy if you treat her right--she can make a dumplin' with
anybody. But look 'ere; you confine yourself to the ladies!
FAITH.
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