"It's annoying. I wanted you out of the way. Nurse is taking the children for an outing. I've enough to do without providing lunches—you must take some sandwiches—spring cleaning—maids all busy——"
"I'd rather take sandwiches!" Louise's face brightened.
"I thought the cleaning was over—not a comfortable room in the house for the last fortnight." Mr. Denny was testy.
His wife answered them thickly, her mouth full of pins as she adjusted her dusting apron.
"Very well! Ask cook to—no, she's upstairs. Cut them yourself. There's plenty of liver. Perfectly absurd! Do you want the house a foot deep in dust? You leave the household arrangements to me! The top-floor hasn't been done for years—not thoroughly."
"The top floor? Not the attics?" said Louise.
"Yes! I'm re-arranging the rooms. John's getting too big for the nursery. He needs a room to himself. I'm putting him in cook's old room."
Louise paused, the slice of bread half cut.
"Where's cook going?" said her father.
She awaited the answer, a fear catching at her breath.