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“Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I? Nicholas is here. I’ve wanted you to meet him.”
Something in him was angry, and something laughed. She would, would she? Of course it was Sunday and the fellow wouldn’t be working. What a nice interesting tea-party they were going to have!
He followed Rosamond into the room, and saw Je
It was Je
“Craig-Nicholas. Now you know each other, and we can have a party. The cakes are all here. And you’re not going down for the tray, Rosamond, because Miss Holiday is still here, and she said she would bring it up as soon as we rang.”
Rosamond said, “Oh, but she never does.”
Je
“She’s making a simply dreadful favour of it. And she wouldn’t if she wasn’t dying to have a good look at Craig. She has always just missed him, and she had pretty well got to the point where she was going to demean herself and answer the front door bell, only Rosamond always beat her to it.”
“Je
“Well, you did. And when I suggested she might bring up the tea she made a favour of it like I told you, but she was really as pleased as Punch.”
Craig said, “Who is Miss Holiday, and why does she want to look at me?”
It appeared that of the two girls who came in by the day only Ivy really answered to that description. The other was Miss Holiday, a person of uncertain age and some pretentions. She was also unfortunately a good deal less competent than the bouncing Ivy, who was not yet seventeen. With all her rough and ready ways and the scrambling hurry with which she plunged china into boiling water and whisked it out again, Ivy according to Mrs. Bolder didn’t break above half what Miss Holiday did. “And how she does it, Miss Rosamond, I couldn’t say. Not that she hurries herself, for she’s the slowest ever I watched. She just doesn’t seem to have any grip in her fingers. So if you did feel you could take on the china for Miss Crewe’s trays there’d be more of it left, if you see what I mean.”
Je
Miss Holiday had a good sideways stare at Craig Lester. She thought he was a fine-looking gentleman. She liked a big man herself, and he would make two of Nicholas Cu
She took another look at Mr. Lester. Since he was a man, he wouldn’t be what you could really approve of, but for the moment she preferred him to Nicholas Cu
She was so much interested in her own thoughts that it simply did not occur to her to retreat. She stood where she was, just inside the door, in the limp faded overall which rather failed to cover a green stuff dress, a row of bright blue beads about her stringy neck, her mouth a little open and her light eyes goggling at Craig. She was imagining him in a Western galloping down on one of those horses they had in the films and snatching you up just before the Indians got you, when Rosamond’s voice broke in upon the pleasant dream.
“Thank you very much, Miss Holiday.”
She went away with regret, and forgot to shut the door.
When Nicholas had rectified the omission he said in an exasperated voice,
“That woman is barmy. She’ll burn you all in your beds one of these days.”
Je
“She isn’t here when we’re in our beds-at least I might be in mine. And I don’t know about Aunt Lydia, but Rosamond wouldn’t be in hers. She doesn’t get a chance, poor lamb. The girls-” she went off into a fresh peal-“fancy calling Miss Holiday a girl! Anyhow they go off at eight sharp, and Ivy doesn’t come on Sundays at all, but Miss Holiday rather likes to because of getting lunch and tea.” She mimicked again, and had the dragging voice to the life. “As long as it is quite understood that there is no obligation, Miss Maxwell.”
Craig handed her a cup of tea. Rosamond said, “Je
“Eat, my child, and give your elders a chance to talk,” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing the angry colour run up to the roots of her hair.
Miss Holiday did not immediately return to the housekeeper’s room. Mrs. Bolder would not make the tea until she returned, and since she was in a pleased frame of mind, it occurred to her to make up Miss Crewe’s fire before she went downstairs. She would not have admitted that there was some curiosity mixed up with the goodwill, but it is a fact that she had never yet been alone in the room. She had, in fact, hardly ever been into it at all. It was Miss Maxwell who hoovered the carpet and dusted all those i
She came into the room, leaving the door ajar behind her. It was still daylight, but the corners were full of shadows. She switched on the light in the chandelier and almost cried out at the sudden brightness. It made her blink and look over her shoulder. Suppose anyone was to come in! Well, she had to have a light, hadn’t she, if she was going to see to the fire? She went over to it and knelt down. It didn’t really need anything doing to it, but she wasn’t to know that. There was a silly little set of fireplace tools hanging on a stand to the right of the hearth. Just one more thing to clean. Nobody had them nowadays- only Miss Crewe. If there was anything in the world that made work, it was brass. And look what it did to your hands!