“But this is dangerous! If there is a fire——”
“Use the extinguisher!” she hissed. “It is hanging in the wardrobe.”
She was tired, aching in every limb, immensely lonely. Oh, for the comforting presence of Gordon! Or even Eleanor, at that moment sitting in agitated conference with Mrs. Magglesark, discussing the strange behaviour of mistresses in general and Australian mistresses in particular.
Happily there was Mr. Superbus.
The faint sound of music came up from the servants’ hall as she descended the stairs. Mr. Superbus was playing a mouth-organ softly, almost musically. Aunt Lizzie sat before the kitchen fire, chin in hand. Uncle Isaac leant against the kitchen dresser, glowering at the musician. The harmonies were confirmed as she opened the door.
“Had a pleasant evening?” she asked.
“I’ve had nothing to eat but bread and cheese,” said Gordon. “This little joke of yours is going too far, Diana.”
She looked at him aghast.
“We didn’t have any dinner!” she said in dismay, tempered with the satisfaction that Dempsi was at that moment starving in his locked room. “I haven’t even had bread and cheese—it is time for you to go to bed.”
“I’ll go when I please,” said Gordon loudly.