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She paled to an even whiter shade, almost the color of snow.

"Who told you?"

"It is?" I asked more vehemently.

"No one is supposed to talk about that," she replied.

She walked away and a little while later returned with a uniform folded in her arms. She placed it on the bed without a word. I unfolded it and held it up against me. It was close to my size.

"The loo is just down the hail here," she said.

"The what?"

"The loo." She thought a moment. "The lavatory."

"Oh, you mean bathroom. Okay, thanks?' I said. "I'd like to throw some cold water on my face. I feel like I'm still flying?'

She didn't smile.

"Better get along?' she advised. "Mr. Boggs is waitin' on us."

"Right," I said. "We don't want to keep him cooling his heels," I muttered.

She tilted her head as if I had said something totally beyond her I just shook my head and headed down to what she called the loo. It wasn't much of a bathroom. There was no shower, just a tub and a sink and a toilet. Above the sink was a small mirror. Every part of the house had been modernized apparently, but not the servants' quarters. They better not complain about Americans being class conscious and

prejudiced, I thought.

I put on the uniform and then followed Mary Margaret back to the front of the house where Boggs was waiting. He looked me over from head to foot.

"Pin your hair back," he ordered. He looked at Mary Margaret. "Why didn't you tell her that?"

She looked nervous and frightened.

"She didn't have time to," I said. "She was afraid to keep you waiting much longer."

"I'm not talking to you, am I?" he asked me with fury in his eyes. "I'm talking to her."

Mary Margaret dropped her gaze and lowered her head quickly. I took a deep breath to keep myself from exploding and waited.

"You'll help serve breakfast and dinner and then help clean up the dining room after supper. There'll be dusting and polishing on Saturday mornings with Mary Margaret.

Wash the floor in the billiards room, too. See that every loo has paper and keep the bathroom off the billiards room spotless. Mr. Endfield's guests use it. Mrs. Chester will show you what she wants done in the kitchen. Whenever she needs something from the greengrocer, she'll tell you or Mary Margaret to go fetch it."

"What's a greengrocer?"

"It's a fruit and vegetable store. Margaret can show you the way the first time."

"Anything else?" I asked dryly. Didn't Greataunt Leonora tell him why I had come to London? I had school to attend and studies.

"Just know your place," he ordered. "Everyone who knows 'is place gets along fine. Step out of it and you'll have to answer to me."

"Are you kidding?" I asked him, now feeling myself growing furious.

"Mr. Endfield prides 'imself on how well 'is house is run. There's no kidding about that 'ere. Take 'er to Mrs. Chester," he ordered Mary Margaret.

She nodded.

"This way, please," she said.