"I've no call to fret," she said.

"And don't you go rubbin' my dirty face with your clean 'andkerchief, Miss Violet.

I ain't fit for you to touch, my dear." "I'm only trying to get off the flour," explained Violet.

"But I'm afraid you'll have to wash it after all.

It's all gone into paste." "And there's Miss Olga a-makin' my tarts for me like a ministerin' angel," said Mrs.Briggs, with a watery smile.