“By the way, Jenny, I expect friends tonight. You needn’t change, as you’re in mourning. You’ll see to the coffee, please. We’ll have the door open and the coffee in the little room. You might do it now while I dress.”
The big drawing-room was divided from the little outer room by a curtained door. It was closed in the day-time for cosiness’ sake, but when it was flung back the room was a splendid one. The small room held the books and a chair or two, and a chesterfield facing the door that opened on to the passage and the narrow twisting stairs. They were so dark that Anita kept a candle and matches in the hall; but one seldom troubled to light it. It was quicker to fumble one’s way. Anita used to long for electric light; but she would not install it. Anita had good taste. The house was old, and old-fashioned it should stay.
I fastened back the door and re-arranged the furniture, and was sitting down to Eden Walls again when Great-aunt beckoned me.
“Go and dress, my dear!”
“But Anita said——” I began.
She held me by the wrist, all nods and smiles and hoarse whispers.
“The pretty dress—to show a pretty throat—isn’t there a pretty dress somewhere? I know! Put it on. Put it on. What a white throat! I’ve a necklace somewhere—but then Anita would know. Mustn’t tell Anita!”
She pulled me down to her with fumbling, shaky hands.
“Tell me, Jenny, where’s my daughter?”
“Upstairs, Auntie.”