‘We must put the things in tumblers,’ Caroline said, ‘because plates would be missed; but the tumblers live in the sideboard, and there are dozens.’
So a row of tumblers, containing such greasy things as never before had profaned their limpid depths, stood in a row like beakers on the bench of a secret laboratory.
‘It’s all very well,’ said Charlotte, replacing the last book and ringing the bell, ‘but how shall we get them to him?’
‘William will manage it at tea-time,’ Caroline was sure.
‘But we’ve got to bring the clergyman home to tea.’
‘Oh, bother!’ was the remark that sprang to the lips of Caroline. ‘I never thought of that.’