Now the bacon--but never mind that--either Miss Hilda or me will be down to-morrow morning to show you." "Yes, mum," Florrie's whisper was grateful.
"When you've got things going a bit like, you'll do your parlour--I've told you all about that, though.

But I didn't tell you--except on Wednesdays.

On Wednesdays you give your parlour a thorough turn-out _after_ breakfast, and mind it's got to be all straight for dinner at half-past twelve." "Yes, mum." "I shall show you about your fire-irons--" Mrs.Lessways was continuing to make everything in the house the private property of Florrie, when Hilda interrupted her about the handkerchief, and afterwards with an exhortation to beware of the dampness of the floor, which exhortation Mrs.Lessways faintly resented; whereupon Hilda left the kitchen; it was always imprudent to come between Mrs.Lessways and a new servant.
Hilda remained listening in the lobby to the interminable and rambling instruction.

At length Mrs.Lessways said benevolently: "There's no reason why you shouldn't go to bed at half-past eight, or nine at the latest.

No reason whatever.