“I am glad to see, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “that the Women’s Domestic of America has succeeded in solving the servant girl problem—none too soon, one might almost say.”  
“Ah,” said Mrs. Wilkins, as she took the cover off the bacon and gave an extra polish to the mustard-pot with her , “they are clever people over there; leastways, so I’ve always ’eard.”
 
“This, their latest, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “I am inclined to regard as their greatest triumph.  My hope is that the Women’s Domestic Guild of America, when it has finished with the United States and Canada, will, perhaps, see its way to establishing a branch in England.  There are ladies of my acquaintance who would welcome, I feel sure, any really satisfactory solution of the problem.”
 
“Well, good luck to it, is all I say,” responded Mrs. Wilkins, “and if it makes all the with their places, and all the mistresses satisfied with what they’ve got and ’appy in their minds, why, God bless it, say I.”
 
“The mistake hitherto,” I said, “from what I read, appears to have been that the right servant was not sent to the right place.  What the Women’s Domestic Guild of America proposes to do is to find the right servant for the right place.  You see the difference, don’t you, Mrs. Wilkins?”
 
“That’s the secret,” agreed Mrs. Wilkins.  “They don’t anticipate any difficulty in getting the right sort of , I take it?”
 
“I gather not, Mrs. Wilkins,” I replied.
 
Mrs. Wilkins is of a pessimistic turn of mind.
 
“I am not so sure about it,” she said; “the don’t seem to ’ave made too many of that sort.  Unless these American ladies that you speak of are going to start a factory of their own.  I am afraid there is disappointment in store for them.”
 
“Don’t throw cold water on the idea before it is fairly started, Mrs. Wilkins,” I pleaded.
 
“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “I ’ave been a gal myself in service; and in my time I‘ve ’ad a few mistresses of my own, and I’ve ’eard a good deal about others.  There are ladies and ladies, as you may know, sir, and some of them, if they aren’t exactly angels, are about as near to it as can be looked for in this climate, and they are not the ones that do most of the complaining.  But, as for the average mistress—well it ain’t a gal she wants, it’s a plaster image, without any natural innards—a sort of thing as ain’t ’uman, and ain’t to be found in ’uman nature.  And then she’d at it, if it didn’t ’appen to be able to be in two places at once.”
 
“You fear that the standard for that ‘right girl’ is likely to be set a trifle too high Mrs. Wilkins,” I suggested.
 
“That ‘right gal,’ according to the notions of some of ’em,” retorted Mrs. Wilkins, “’er place ain’t down ’ere among us mortals; ’er place is up in ’eaven with a ’arp and a golden crown.  There’s my niece, Emma, I don’t say she is a saint, but a better ’earted, ’arder working gal, at twenty pounds a year, you don’t expect to find, unless maybe you’re a natural born fool that can’t ’elp yourself.  She wanted a place.  She ’ad been ’ome for nearly six months, nursing ’er old father, as ’ad been down all the winter with rheumatic fever; and ’ard-put to it she was for a few clothes.  You ’ear ’em talk about gals as insists on an hour a day for practising the piano, and the right to invite their young man to spend the evening with them in the drawing-room.  Perhaps it is meant to be funny; I ain’t come across that type of gal myself, outside the pictures in the comic papers; and I’ll never believe, till I see ’er myself, that anybody else ’as.  They sent ’er from the registry office to a lady at Clapton.
 
“‘I ’ope you are good at getting up early in the morning?’ says the lady, ‘I like a gal as rises cheerfully to ’er work.’
 
“‘Well, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘I can’t say as I’ve got a passion for it.  But it’s one of those things that ’as to be done, and I guess I’ve learnt the trick.’
 
“‘I’m a great believer in early rising,’ says my lady; ‘in the morning, one is always fresher for one’s work; my ’usband and the younger children breakfast at ’arf past seven; myself and my daughter ’ave our breakfest in bed at eight.’
 
“‘That’ll be all right, ma’am,’ says Emma.
 
“‘And I ’ope,’ says the lady, ‘you are of an .  Some gals when you ring the bell come up looking so disagreeable, one almost wishes one didn’t want them.’
 
“‘Well, it ain’t a thing,’ explains Emma, ‘as makes you want to burst out laughing, ’earing the bell go off for the twentieth time, and ’aving suddenly to put down your work at, perhaps, a critical moment.  Some ladies don’t seem able to reach down their ’at for themselves.’
 
“‘I ’ope you are not impertinent,’ says the lady; ‘if there’s one thing that I object to in a servant it is impertinence.’
 
“‘We none of us like being answered back,’ says Emma, ‘more particularly when we are in the wrong.  But I know my place ma’am, and I shan’t give you no lip.  It always leads to less trouble, I find, keeping your mouth shut, rather than opening it.’
 
“‘Are you fond of children,’ asks my lady.
 
“‘It depends upon the children,’ says Emma; ‘there are some I ’ave ’ad to do with as made the day seem pleasanter, and I’ve come across others as I could ’ave parted from at any moment without tears.’
 
“‘I like a gal,’ says the lady, ‘who is naturally fond of children, it shows a good character.’
 
“‘How many of them are there?’ says Emma.
 
“‘Four of them,’ answers my lady, ‘but you won’t ’ave much to do except with the two youngest.  The great thing with young children is to surround them with good examples.  Are you a ?’ asks my lady.
 
“‘That’s what I’m generally called,’ says Emma.
 
“‘Every other Sunday evening out is my rule,’ says the lady, ‘but of course I shall expect you to go to church.’
 
“‘Do you mean in my time, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘or in yours.’
 
“‘I mean on your evening of course,’ says my lady.  ‘’Ow else could you go?’
 
“‘Well, ma’am,’ says Emma, ‘I like to see my people now and then.’
 
“‘There are better things,’ says my lady, ‘than seeing what ............