"Must have. Neither of them was in the library when I went in with the scuttle, nor when I took the tray in."
"Well, that's not like Miss Margaret to want a fire one moment and then go trapesing out in the garden the next," remarked Mrs. Bowers. "They're probably in the study."
"What would they go and sit there for, when they've lit a fire in the library?" Bowers demanded.
"Don't ask me!" his wife abjured him. "But if that's what they are doing all I can say is Miss Margaret'll catch her death, and start one of her coughs, for it's the coldest room in the house. I think I'll go along and see what she is up to." She got out of her chair, not without effort, for she was a lady of ample proportions, and sailed away to scold Margaret for her imprudence.
But the study was in darkness, and Mrs. Bowers' opening gambit of "Now, Miss Margaret, you know you didn't ought to sit in this cold room," was cut off short. Mrs. Bowers went across to the library; that was empty too, and so were both the drawing and dining-rooms.
Bowers had followed his wife into the front part of the house by this time, and he again repeated his own conviction that they had strolled out.
"What, after Mr. Peter saying Miss Margaret was feeling shivery, and would like a fire? Stuff and nonsense!"
"Well, if they haven't gone out, where are they?" Bowers asked reasonably. "Perhaps Mr. Peter thought a walk would warm his sister up."
"If he thought anything so silly he'll have a few straight words with me when he comes in, grown up or not!" declared Mrs. Bowers with a look in her eye that all the Fortescues had been familiar with since babyhood. "Bowers, my man, just you pop up and knock on their bedroom doors to make sure they're not there."
"Well, they aren't, because they haven't taken their candles," said Bowers, pointing to the array on the hall table.