Katherine repeated the exact message.
"Tell her I am very much annoyed about the whole thing," Mr. Strobridge returned, "and have decided not to be present myself."
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Lady Garribardine, when she was told, and, seizing the receiver from Katherine's hand, she roared:
"Don't be a fool, G.—it is too late in the day to stand upon your dignity—I'll tell you the rest when you come to lunch."—Upon which she closed the communication and called for Stirling.
"Take all this rubbish of letters away, Miss Bush—I must get up and cope with the humiliating defects of old age—you may go."
Katherine had a very busy morning in front of her. She sat steadily typing and writing in the secretary's room, until her lunch was brought and even then she hardly stopped to eat it, but on her own way to the dining-room Lady Garribardine came in. She looked at the hardly tasted food and blinked her black eyes:
"Tut, tut! You must eat, child—pas trop de zèle—Finish your pudding—and then bring me those two letters upon the report of the Wineberger charity—into the dining-room—You can have your coffee with us—Mr. Strobridge and I are alone, Mrs. Delemar is not coming, after all—By the way, do you have everything you want? The coffee they give you is good, eh? Servants always skimp the beans when left to themselves."
"I have everything I want, thank you—but I have not been offered coffee," Katherine replied.
Lady Garribardine's face assumed an indignant expression, and she sharply rang the bell.
"These are the things that happen when one does not know of them—you ought to have complained to me before, Miss Bush!"