March seemed not to see it, and went on to the next room. This was a large and delightful room, the counterpart of Alma’s bedroom.
“The guest room,” Dora said, and stood aside to let us enter.
“And a pretty one. Are there guests often?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Miss Alma frequently has young ladies to stay the night with her.”
“I see. A charming room.” He set down his stick, while he leaned out of the window for a glimpse of the lake.
He looked into the guest bathroom, but it showed only the immaculate cleanliness beloved of all good housekeepers, and then we went back into the hall.
“Where are the servants’ rooms?” he asked.
“Up in the third story, sir. Want to go up?”
Dora opened a door at the foot of a flight of stairs, but March said, “No, not necessary,” and she closed it again.
“Now, we’ll go downstairs,” he said, and we started. He let Dora precede and then pushed me along next.