It was nearly opposite—a bed-room, sparely furnished.
‘Thank you. This will do—if you will order all the things to be piled in that corner.’
She stood silent for a few moments, evidently annoyed, then turned and left the room, saying,
‘I will see to it, Mr Cumbermede.’
Returning to the books and pulling off my coat, I had soon compelled such a cloud of very ancient and smothering dust, that when Miss Brotherton again made her appearance, her figure showed dim through the thick air, as she stood—dismayed, I hoped—in the doorway. I pretended to be unaware of her presence, and went on beating and blowing, causing yet thicker volumes of solid vapour to clothe my presence. She withdrew without even an attempt at parley.
Having heaped several great piles near the door, each composed of books of nearly the same size, the first rudimentary approach to arrangement, I crossed to the other room to see what progress had been made. To my surprise and annoyance, I found nothing had been done. Determined not to have my work impeded by the remissness of the servants, and seeing I must place myself at once on a proper footing in the house, I went to the drawing-room to ascertain, if possible, where Sir Giles was. I had of course put on my coat, but having no means of ablution at hand, I must have presented a very unpresentable appearance when I entered. Lady Brotherton half rose, in evident surprise at my intrusion, but at once resumed her seat, saying, as she turned her chair half towards the window where the other two ladies sat,
‘The housekeeper will attend to you, Mr Cumbermede—or the butler.’
I could see that Clara was making some inward merriment over my appearance and reception.
‘Could you tell me, Lady Brotherton,’ I said, ‘where I should be likely to find Sir Giles?’
‘I can give you no information on that point,’ she answered, with consummate stiffness.