Harriett coming up the garden with a basket of cut flowers saw her at the cook’s bedroom window.
“What on earth you doing thayer!” she shrieked putting down her basket.
Hanging from the window Miriam made a trumpet of her hands.
“Something blew in!”
12
All preparations for the evening were made and the younger members of the household were having a late tea in the breakfast-room. “We’ve done the alcoves,” said Sarah explosively, “in case it rains.”
Nan Babington sat up in her long chair to bring her face round to the deep bay where Sarah stood.
“My dear! Seraphina! And she’s doing the pink bows! Will some saint take my cup? Ta.... My dear, how perfectly screaming.”
Miriam raised her head from the petal-scattered table, where she lay prone side by side with Harriett, to watch Nan sitting up in her firm white dress beaming at Sarah through her slanting eye.
“What flowers you going to wear, Nan?”