"Are you cold?" she asked, seeing the new situation of the table.
"Am I cold!" Edwin repeated.
"Well," said Maggie, "I always think your rooms are so hot."
Edwin seized the small serviceable tongs which saved the wear of the large tongs matching the poker and the shovel, and he dragged both firebricks out of the grate.
"No coal here, I suppose!" he exclaimed gloomily, opening the black japanned coal-scuttle. "Oh! Corn in Egypt!" The scuttle was full of coal. He threw on to the fire several profuse shovelfuls of best household nuts which had cost sixteen shillings a ton even in that district of cheap coal.
"Well," Maggie murmured, aghast. "It's a good thing it's you. If it had been anybody else--"
"What on earth does she do with her money?" he muttered.
Shrugging her shoulders, Maggie went out again with an empty tray.
"No servant, either?" Edwin asked, when she returned.
"She's sitting with Auntie."