The wealthy and self-important lady of the house was deciding on Christmas gifts with her maid.

“What should we get for the butler?” she asked in her usual condescending tone.

The maid, keeping her composure, suggested, “Perhaps a nice set of wine glasses?”

The lady scoffed. “Wine glasses? How absurd. He’s a butler, not a host. A tie will suffice.”

Suppressing an eye roll, the maid moved on. “What about Jenny, the serving girl? Maybe a new dress for her?”

The woman snorted, waving the idea away. “A dress? For Jenny? She’d only ruin it. Get her another apron—something practical.”

And so the conversation continued, with the lady dismissing thoughtful suggestions in favor of cheap, impersonal gifts. The maid’s patience wore thin, but she kept her irritation hidden until they came to the topic of the woman’s husband.

“And for Mr. Wilton?” the maid asked, her tone just shy of sarcastic. “Surely you’ll want to give him something he truly needs?”

The lady straightened, her sense of superiority as sharp as ever. “Of course. Mr. Wilton deserves only the best.”

The maid’s lips curled into a sweet, knowing smile. “Then perhaps three more inches?”

For a split second, the room fell silent. The lady’s icy composure cracked just enough to reveal her shock, but before she could respond, the maid had already turned back to her duties, her smirk unmistakable.