Mr. Marrapit addressed her. “To-morrow, Mrs. Armitage, arouse your girls at six. Speed them at their toilet; set them to clean your flues.” He glanced at a tablet taken from beneath his pillow. “At 4.6 this afternoon I smelt soot.”
“The flues were cleaned this morning, sir.”
“Untrue. Your girls were late. Prone in suffering upon my couch, my ears tell me all that is accomplished in every part of the house. Ten minutes after your girls descended I heard the kitchen fire roar. I suspect paraffin.”
Mrs. Armitage wriggled to displace the blame. “I rose them at six, sir. They sleep that heavy and they take that long to dressing, it's a wonder to me they ever do get down.”
Mr. Marrapit addressed the sluggards. “Shun the enervating couch. Spring to the call. Cleanliness satisfied, adorn not the figure; pursue the duties. Ponder this. Seek help to effect it. Contrive a special prayer. To your beds.”
They left him; upon the mat encountered Frederick, and him, in abandon of relief, dug vitally with vulgar thumbs.
II.
Squirming, Frederick, the gardener's boy, advanced to the bedside.
Mr. Marrapit sternly regarded him: “Recite your misdeeds.”
“I've done me jobs, sir.”