"Oh, really. The person that is in charge of that funny little Welsh
chapel." Mrs. Harries sat at a table. "Give me your girl's name, age,
and names of previous employers for references." Having written all
that Martha said, she remarked: "We are moving next week to a large
establishment in Thornton East. I am going to call it Windsor. Of course
the husband and I will go to the English church. I thought I could take
your girl with me to Windsor."
"The titcher give her an excellent character."
"I'll find that out for myself. Well, as you are so poor, I'll give her
a trial. I'll pay her five pounds a year and her keep. I do hope she is
ladylike."
Martha told Tim that which Mrs. Harries had said, and Tim observed: "I
will rejoice in a bit of prayer."
"Iss," Martha agreed. "In the parlor of the preacher. They go up
quicker."
God was requested by Tim to heap money upon Mrs. Harries, and to give
Winnie the wisdom, understanding, and obedience which enable one to
serve faithfully those who sit in the first pews in the chapel.
Now Winnie found favor in the sight of her mistress, whose personal
maid she was made and whose habits she copied. She painted her cheeks
and dyed her hair and eyebrows and eyelashes; and she frequented
Thornton Vale English Congregational Chapel, where now worshiped Enoch
and his wife. Some of the men who came to Windsor ogled her impudently,
but she did not give herself to any man. These ogles Mrs. Harries
interpreted truthfully and she whipped up her jealous rage.
"You're too fast," she chided Winnie. "Look at your blouse. You might be
undressed. You are a shame to your sex. One would say you are a
Piccadilly street-walker and they wouldn't be far wrong. I won't have
you making faces at my visitors. Understand that."