ider that. I can easily get somebody else," said
Deb affably, though her surprise at the idea of Keziah wanting to leave
her was only equalled by her dismay.

Keziah, also surprised to find herself of so much less consequence than
she had supposed, said that, if that was the case, she'd go and see
Miss Rose about it.

"You can go now," said Deb.

"Thank you, Miss Deb, I will," said Keziah, "as soon as I have cleared
up. Would a month's notice suit you? I don't wish to put you about at
all."

"A month will be ample," said Deb. "A week, if you like."

"I'll see what Miss Rose says," said Keziah.

Rose, after the interview, wrote affectionately to Deb, to say she
would not dream of taking Keziah if Deb wanted her; Deb wrote
affectionately to Rose, to say that she would be rather glad than
otherwise to make the change, as the work was too much for such an old
woman. So Keziah went over to the Breen camp, where she had comfort and
companionship, and her own way in everything; and Deb began to
experiment with the common or garden 'general' as purveyed by Melbourne
registry offices.

She loathed these creatures, one and all. They were of a race unknown
at Redford, and she was singularly unlucky in the specimens that fell
to her; although some of them could have been made something of by a
mistress who knew how to do it. It is only fair to state that they
loathed her--for a finicking, unreasonable, stuck-up poor woman, who
gave herself the airs of a wealthy lady. They came at the rate of two a
month, and each one as she passed seemed to leave the little house
meaner, dingier, more damaged than before. It was not living, it was
"pigging", Frances said--and Deb agreed with her--although when Keziah
ventured to call one day to inquire into the state of things, Deb
calmly asserted that all was well.

In despair she tried a lady-help, in the person of Miss Keene, dying to
return to her dear family (from relations who did not want her) on any
terms.

"Whatever we ask her to do we must do ourselves," said Deb to grumbling
Frances, who seemed never willing to do anything; "and of course we
shall have to get a washwoman, and a charwoman to scrub; but it will be
cheaper in the end. And oh, anything rather than sticky door-handles
and greasy spoons, and those awful voices hailing one all over the
house!"

But it was not cheaper, nor was the arrangement satisfactory in any way
after the first fortnight. Miss Keene, spoiled at