On the second floor the left half is entirely set apart for the servants, being divided off by a wall running the whole length of the corridor, which thus becomes two separate passages. To the right are, first, and in front, a big low-roofed nursery, transformed of late into a secondary schoolroom; behind that a locked-up room containing household linen; then a bedroom for Popsie and Pet, and opening into that another for Miss Millington. Behind Miss Millington's again is a narrow strip of a room, appropriated by Thyrza.
It is Thyrza's own choice to sleep there, and she told me so frankly. At one time she shared the elder girls' really luxurious quarters; but about a year ago she entreated that the little box-room might be fitted up for her exclusive use; and the request was granted.
"Anything to have a corner to myself!" she said yesterday afternoon, when explaining this. I was a long time alone in the morning, the girls having promised to walk some distance with friends. They asked dubiously whether I would not like to go also, but I begged off, with thanks. I had unpacking to do, I said, and letters to write. After all, the unpacking and letters resolved themselves into journalising.
Luncheon over, Maggie proposed to drive me out in the pony-carriage, "to see the place;" and the twins accompanied us. Conversation did not flow very easily, I am afraid; and I could not feel that I was making great way as yet. Nona chattered a good deal about nothing; and Elfie scarcely spoke at all. Her little brown impassive face puzzles me. Is she always like this? Maggie seemed to like talking about the Hepburns; and I was interested in what she said, though it did not amount to much.
"This is Glynde Park," Maggie said, as we passed through iron gates. "It belongs to a great friend of ours—Sir Keith Denham."
"There was a gentleman in the train with me yesterday," I said. "Somebody called him 'Sir Keith,' and asked after 'Lady Denham.'"
"Oh, that was the same, of course. How funny!" Maggie said, in her half-childish style. "Lady Denham is his mother. We don't like her so much as we like him, she is so odd. Everybody likes Sir Keith."
She blushed up in her quick way. I could not tell whether it meant anything. Some girls blush at everything, just as others never blush at all.
Nona chimed in, "Oh, everybody! He's the very nicest man that ever was. Eustace is going to dine at the Park to-night. He and Sir Keith are immense friends, aren't they, Maggie?"
I did not admire the little giggle which followed this speech. It sounded foolish, though all else seemed simple and natural enough.