They were
greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple
of days with Aunt Jane.
"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by
a lady-friend.
"What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with
the family.
"That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general.
Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he
replied, uneasily.
"Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs.
Gorman. "Oh, these masters!"
"Ah!" said her friend, vaguely.
"A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes.
"Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand.
"Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued
Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what
comes of not having pickets."
"Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her
head.
"A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!"
"Put her out," counselled her friend.
"Put her out!" repeated Mrs.
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