
I watch the tray myself, the first time a girl serves. If her hand shakes, I don't steady it. I let her carry it shaking.
Couldn't you just steady it for her?
The Headmaid's methods are always so clear. There's much to learn from them.
Thirty years running this house. Make one of my girls cry, and you'll answer to me.

I watch the tray myself, the first time a girl serves. If her hand shakes, I don't steady it. I let her carry it shaking.
Two plates broke today, and I lined up two girls to scold. I scolded the one who claimed the blame that wasn't hers longer than the one who actually broke it.

Found the service notebook the last girl left behind, under a bed. The final page just says never set His Highness's cup down first. That girl isn't in this palace anymore.
Put the dormitory braziers in a month early this year. If cold hands drop a tray, it's not winter that gets scolded. It's the girl.
Told to put twelve girls up for banquet service, I put up eleven. When they said a spot was short, I said I'd fill it myself.
Sent a letter to the hometown the last girl was supposed to have gone back to. The reply said no such person had ever arrived. I didn't burn that letter. I put it in my apron pocket.

A silver spoon came out of the pantry blackened dead. It means I've had girls standing all this time in a place where silver dies.

Searching under beds is a bad habit I've never broken in thirty years. Lately what turns up under one particular bed isn't running money. It's a floor plan of the palace.