All of Mrs. Chubb’s patience evaporated. It was one thing to insult the chef, but to cast aspersions on madam’s husband was something she simply would not tolerate. Raising her voice, she barked, “No, it wasn’t Mr. Baxter! It was a leak in the roof. Get up there right now so you can both get back here and get that water boiled and the warming pans filled with coals.”

“All right, all right. I’m going.” Gertie bashed the door open with her knee and disappeared, though she could be heard muttering to herself all the way down the corridor.

Letting out her breath, Mrs. Chubb turned to Ellie, who had been cowering in the pantry throughout the exchange. “What are you doing in there? Come on out here. I need you to get the hot water bottles and warming pans from the laundry cupboard. Right this minute.”

Ellie scurried to the door and pushed it open. “Yes, Mrs. Chubb. Right away, Mrs. Chubb.”

The housekeeper watched the door swing to, behind her. If only Gertie and Pansy were half as obedient and respectful. This new maid was such a polite little thing. Maybe a bit too jumpy and nervous at times, but always willing to please. With that flaxen hair and blue eyes, at times she looked like a little angel.

Mrs. Chubb’s lips twitched. There was no possible way Gertie could ever look like an angel. Not only was she as dark haired and dark eyed as the devil, she had the build and constitution of a bull. And every bit as stubborn.

Still, she had to admit, the Pennyfoot would be a dull place without Gertie McBride and her runaway tongue. Not that working in the club was ever dull. Especially at Christmastime. Her stomach gave a little flip. No, not this year. This year there would be no nasty business. This year was going to be different. She’d bet her best bonnet on it.