“I have an order from the agents to look over the house.”
“Let's see your order?”
While the caretaker fumbled for her spectacles, she went on talking. “You won't like it. There's no real sense in your seeing it. It ain't much of a 'ouse—not modern, too little and all stairs.”
It made me furious to hear her running me down and to have no chance to defend myself.
“Nevertheless, I rather like it and I think I'll see it,” the little lady said.
She went from room to room, making notes of the accommodations and thinking aloud as she set them down. “Four floors beside the basement. On the top floor two bedrooms; they'll do for Robbie and Joan and nurse. On the next floor one bedroom and a bathroom; I'll have that for myself. On the second floor one big room, running from front to back; that's where we'II have the parrot and the piano, and where I'll do my sewing. On the ground-floor a dining-room in front and a bedroom at the back; the bedroom at the back will do for cook. I won't have anyone sleeping below-stairs. It's a very wee house, but tremendously cosy. And what pretty views—the garden in the square in front, and the old grey church with its graveyard at the back! It's all so green and quiet, like being in the country.”
She had far out-distanced the caretaker, hurrying over the first two floors that she might get to the top by herself. Now, as she descended, she inspected each room more leisurely. As yet she had said no word that would indicate that she had recognised me. I wondered what her motive had been in coming; whether she had deliberately sought me or stumbled on me simply by accident. I would have known her anywhere, though I had been blind and deaf, by the fragrance of Jacqueminot that clung about her.