Mrs. Jones's room was for her alone—small but well-equipped. Ever since Jenny had bribed the butler with a bag of gifts on her last visit, the butler had been especially considerate, even bringing over some furniture from the storeroom for Mrs. Jones to use. Against the wall stood a beautiful mahogany cabinet, its surface gleaming in the flickering candlelight.
After chatting for a while, mother and daughter noticed the beeswax candle on the holder was nearly gone. Mrs. Jones bent down and rummaged in a box under the bed, pulling out an empty container. "Oh dear, no more candles. Never mind, let's go outside. The upstairs dinner is over now, and the kitchen always has plenty of leftovers. The butler lets us eat them—the boss hasn't even touched them. What a waste. But it's not all bad. See this candle? It's beeswax—burns without any black smoke, cleaner than gas lamps or kerosene. We can use as many as we like."
Preview