Rachel entered the kitchen like a radiance.  She was dressed with special care, rather too obviously so, in order that she might be worthy to walk by Louis’ side to church.  She was going with him to church gladly, because he had rented the pew and she desired to please him by an alert gladness in subscribing to his wishes; it was not enough for her just to do what he wanted.  Her eyes glittered above the darkened lower lids; her gaze was self-conscious and yet bold; a faint languor showed beneath her happy energy.  But there was no sign that on the previous evening she had been indisposed.

Mrs. Tams was respectfully maternal, but preoccupied.  She fetched the egg for Rachel, and Rachel, having deposited it in a cooking-spoon, held it over the small black saucepan of incontestably boiling water until the hand of the clock precisely covered a minute mark, whereupon she deftly slipped the egg into the saucepan; the water ceased to boil for a few seconds and then bubbled up again.  And amid the heavenly frizzling of bacon and the odour of her own special coffee Rachel stood sternly watching the clock while Mrs. Tams rattled plates and did the last deeds before serving the meal.  Then Mrs. Tarns paused and said—­

“I don’t hardly like to tell ye, ma’m—­I didn’t hardly like to tell ye last night when ye were worried like—­no, and I dunna like now like, but its like as if what must be—­I must give ye notice to leave.  I canna stop here no longer.”

Rachel turned to her, protesting—­

“Now, Mrs. Tams, what are you talking about?  I thought you were perfectly happy here.”

“So I am, mum.  Nobody could wish for a better place.  I’m sure I’ve no fault to find.  But it’s like as if what must be.”

“But what’s the matter?”

“Well, ma’am, it’s Emmy.” (Emmy was Mrs. Tams’s daughter and the mother of her favourite grandchild.) “Emmy and all on’ em seem to think it’ll be better all round if I don’t take a regular situation, so as I can be more free for ’em, and they’ll all look after me i’ my old age.  I s’ll get my old house back, and be among ’em all.  There’s so many on ’em.”

Every sentence contained a lie.  And the aged creature went on lying to the same pattern until she had created quite a web of convincing detail—­more than enough to persuade her mistress that she was in earnest, foolishly in earnest, that she didn’t know on which side her bread was buttered, and that the poorer classes in general had no common sense.

“You’re all alike,” said the wise Rachel.

“I’m very sorry, ma’m.”

“And what am I to do?  It’s very annoying for me, you know.  I thought you were a permanency.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I should like to give your daughters and daughters-in-law a piece of my mind....  Good heavens!  Give me that cooking-spoon, quick!”

She nipped the egg out of the saucepan; it was already several seconds overdone.