"You walk in, miss," said Ruth to Salome; "tea is all set in the parlour. We thought you would like to have one room kept for meals and one for company."
"Company! what company! Who would ever come near them in that obscure quarter of Roxburgh," Salome thought. And now Raymond made it worse by coming in to declare he should not allow his mother to stay in a hole like this, and that he should go out and look for lodgings the very next day. Whoever took them must be mad, and he should not put up with it. Even Reginald's good temper was tried to the utmost, and he and Raymond began a fierce wrangle about the cab and omnibus fare; while Stevens, wet and tired and miserable, sat down on one of her big boxes, and seemed as if all exertion were over for her.
"I am wore out," she said. "I have not slept for three nights. I am wore out."
Of course, Mrs. Pryor was too much affronted at Raymond's remarks on her house—the house, with all the highly-polished furniture, which was at once her pride and joy—to volunteer any consolation; but quietly addressing Salome, she said,—
"You have not seen the bed-rooms yet; will you walk up, Miss Wilton?"
Salome followed, saying, as she passed Raymond and Reginald,—
"Please do not say any more. I daresay we shall be very comfortable.—And do come up with me, Stevens, and see the rooms."
The gentle, sweet voice softened Mrs. Pryor somewhat. Stevens was pleased to see the bed-rooms neatly furnished, and that not a speck of dust was to be seen; from these upper windows, too, there would be, on clear days, a nice open view; and altogether her spirits rose, and she said "with a few things put here and there she thought she might soon get a bed-room fit for her mistress."
"I am glad mother did not come with us," said Salome. "It will be all settled before Monday. If only Raymond would make the best of it."