I respect that you as a reader of Gifthub are very busy, so let me fast forward to Audrey's audition for a minimum wage job in the kitchen.
Below stairs is the kitchen and adjacent are long wooden tables, and benches, where the staff eat, and also at times the retinue of visiting notables. The kitchen is maybe 20 yards from the tables. The task at hand is to take a fully loaded silver try from the folding tray stand by the kitchen, out to the tables, then deposit the tray on another folding serving stand, then serve the plates to the tables. An adult waiter will lift the tray with both hands, then shift a palm beneath it, and carry it, shoulder high to the folding serving table, then, back to two hands, and lower it down. Then serve one or two plates at time from serving stand to table.
Tutor has told Cook that Tess wants Audrey to earn her way, but that it must be "a true market transaction." At the word "market" all faces become solemn. (Tutor recalls when, in the middle ages, he could say, "God the Holy Father" from the rostrum in church and get the same look of stupefied submission to a higher power.)
Now, presenting herself for market based test, is Audrey, whose head comes no higher than Cook's waist, unless you count the 18 inches of red hair standing straight up and out. Cook loads the silver tray, as he would for any other server, with 12 plated salads. The servants are waiting, impersonating the retinue of noble guests, at the trestle table, uneasy. How can this end well? The kid will fail, and she is the boss's daughter, and their future queen. If the tray were stood on its side, it would come to Audrey's nose. She would look like a Spartan Warrior, ready for battle. As it is, on the folding serving table the tray is far too wide for her to get her hands on either edge, much less to hoist it shoulder high. Hopeless!, the servants are silently thinking. Unfair! Maybe there is some other job the kid could find.
But Audrey gets that crazy look she gets, when tested. Eyes slitted, tongue tip protruding. Face reddening. The room is quiet, except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock at the far end of the hall. Scary to see it, but Audrey suddenly drops as if falling backward on the stone floor. She catches herself with backward flung arms, shouts, "Save Dogs!," she exclaims, and simultaneously her pink-sneakered feet in a blur kick the stand out from under the tray, which hangs, stunned, in the air for one instant. Audrey bounds off the floor, assuming the pose of Atlas, on one knee, only an Atlas who will not shrug off the weight of the world, let alone a mere serving tray. The kid rises, wavering and trembling, like a weight lifter, until the tray is pressed straight up from her shoulders. She then humps the tray to the second serving table. But now a second challenge. How can she lower it to the rickety folding table? She tries kneeling down and letting one edge go over the edge of the serving table, but when she tries sliding the tray, the table collapses, and her tray quivers, the plates beginning to slide, the tray on the verge of tipping over. Up, up again, until balanced over Audrey's head.
Now, Audrey is a walking around the table, spinning her tray like Lazy Susan, or Carousel. The tray seems to float in air, as if held up by a shock of red hair, as she walks around the servants' trestle table. Each servant gets his or her salad served, as the tray deftly turns. Perfect service! 100% better than the traditional way. The hall fills with cheers and laughter. So, Audrey serves and clears the entire three course meal. At the end, she not only gets the job at the full $9.50 an hour true market rate, but she also gets carried around the kitchen on Cook's shoulder, as the servants cheer. "May God save our future Queen!" If The Castle were a union shop, Audrey could have gotten elected steward.
Back in her room, Tutor finds Audrey on the floor, feet apart, her T-Shirt laid out flat as she paints a slanting line through "Own" in her motto, "Own Rule Save." Above "Own" she is painting "Earn." Tutor thinks to himself, "Momma is smart. If Audrey ever gets deported back to the working class, even at 9.5 years old she could support a family of three at minimum wage if she works three shifts."