"I'm so sorry. What has cook brought? Green mangoes? Yes; they will do nicely stewed; and a custard pudding."
"Custard pudding!" repeated Mrs. Hulver with disdain. "It's the pudding Mr. Alderbury gets every other day of his life! and him with the tastes of a bishop!"
"Then I leave it to you, Mrs. Hulver. Now let me finish with the accounts."
Mrs. Hulver was more vigilant than ever this morning over Ramachetty's charges. Miss Wenaston was clearly not fit for the matutinal crossing of swords with the sharp-witted butler, and it was the housekeeper's duty to intervene and protect.
"As William—that was my third—used to say: 'It's fatal to go into action unless you've got your wits about you and your guns are in good order,'" remarked Mrs. Hulver when she had checked the butler for the third time.
Eola did not see the point of her remark and Mrs. Hulver made no attempt to explain. The bazaar account book was closed with relief, and the butler and cook dismissed.
"How is young William getting on?" asked Eola, preparatory to dismissing her housekeeper as well.
"He is nearly well, though I can't get the colour of his eye down altogether. What his colonel will say to him to-morrow I don't know. He will have to be told the truth if he asks about the black eye."
"He may not make any inquiries if he finds young William"—by common consent the adjective had been given to distinguish the son from the three Williams of the former generation—"doing his work properly."
"There are colonels and colonels, miss. Some can put on the blinkers when they think fit. Others shy and jib at everything that comes within sight. Fortunately young William's complexion helps a bit, and the black eye doesn't show as it would if he were as fair as his father."