“It is not necessary,” said Mrs. Enderby. “I shall have her letter.”
There was another tap at the door. Mrs. Enderby closed the door leading into the bathroom, and then called:
“Come in!”
The parlor maid entered.
“You may take away the tray,” her mistress said graciously. “Miss Enderby has finished.”
Again a feeling that was almost horror came over Lexy. There was the bed Caroline had slept in, there was the breakfast Caroline had eaten, there was Caroline’s bath running—and Caroline wasn’t there! Lexy wanted to get out of that room and away from Mrs. Enderby.
“Do you mind if I go down and get my own breakfast now?” she asked, when the parlor maid had gone out with the tray.
“But certainly not!” Mrs. Enderby blandly consented. “We shall go down together.”
She turned off the water in the bath, and, following Lexy out of the room, locked the door on the outside. The girl dropped behind her as they descended the stairs, and studied the stout, dignified figure before her with indignant interest.
“A mother!” she thought. “A mother, behaving like this! How long is she going to wait for her letter, I wonder? Well, if she won’t do anything, then, by jiminy, I will!”