She touched the soft puff of blond hair timidly with her bony fingers.

"But I have always had a maid," Rose persisted, in a somewhat puzzled way.

Rose could hardly conceive of continued existence without a maid.

She had managed very well for a few days, but to contemplate life without one altogether seemed like contemplating the possibility of living without a comb and hair-brush.

Sylvia's face took on a crafty expression.
"Well," said she, "if you must have a maid, write your friends, and I will have another leaf put in the dining-table." Rose raised her head and stared at her.