Dear, unmoved, was having a very thorough wash. So the light sleeper sank into the chair and rummaged in her hand-bag, presumably for the copy of the letter in question.
I tried to speak as lightly and soothingly as possible, for she was fairly bursting with indignation! “Now, please understand that I am delighted to give a meal to any wayfarer who, like yourself, arrives hungry and tired at my door. I’m glad for them to come in and have a rest, and even a wash and brush up, if they want it. But, when an absolute stranger, of whom I know nothing, demands my own bed, and my feather bed into the bargain, then I must protest! That feather bed is one of my most cherished possessions!”
“But you expected me?”—sitting bolt upright.
“I certainly did not!”
“Didn’t I write and tell you we would arrive to-day?”
“I’ve neither heard of you, nor from you, in my life before!”
“But this is Rosemary Cottage?”
“It is.”
“Then you must be Miss Flabbers!”—with an air of finality.