"You need not, dearest one. Sit down. I must go and speak to Mary."
"She is better than Eliza," Helen said when he returned.
"Yes, better than Eliza." He spoke soothingly. "Are you comfortable there? Tell me about it, dear." He folded his arms and leaned against his desk, and as he watched her he saw the look of strain pass from her face.
She smiled at him. "Your cheeks are twitching."
"Are they?"
"They always do when you think hard."
"You are sitting where you sat when you first came here."
"And there were no cakes."
"Only buns."
"And they were stale."