"Why?"
"Well, you see, they're rather a queer lot up there at the house—might have said you couldn't see over, or something."
She opened her big eyes.
"But I've got an order."
"That's the worst of it. They'll take orders from no one. Once they'd caught sight of it, you would have been blindfolded and led back to the village by a circuitous route."
"Nonsense!"
"It's a fact. But I'll show you round, all right. Anything I can tell you about the place before we move?"
She regarded me suspiciously. Then:
"Is there a billiard-room?" she said.
"Certainly. And a table complete with three balls, one of latest models—slate bed, pneumatic cushions. Be careful of the top one; it bust the other day. The butler had pumped it up too tight."