"Thanks very much," said Charles. "And what was it you said just before tea? Something about going to the village to order bacon for breakfast?"
"Well, you can take the car," Celia pointed out. "And you might try and get hold of a gardener in the village. I think the garden is rather more than you and Peter can manage.
"It is," said Charles, with conviction. "Much more."
The door opened at that moment to admit a middle aged lady of comfortable proportions, and placid demeanour. This was Mrs. Bosanquet, the Fortescues' aunt. She accepted a chair, and some tea, condemned a solid-looking cake, and embarked on bread and butter.
"I have unpacked my boxes," she announced, "but I twice lost the wardrobe."
"What, have you got one of those little practical jokes?" Charles demanded.
Mrs. Bosanquet turned an amiable and inquiring countenance towards him. She was deaf. When Charles had repeated his question, she nodded. "Yes, dear, but I have stuck a piece of stamp-paper on the catch. A very quaint old house. I was talking to Mrs. Bowers, and she tells me you could lose yourself in the cellars."
"That's nothing," said Charles, getting up. "I lost myself getting from our room to my dressing-room. Of course it would simplify matters if we locked a few of the empty rooms, but I agree it would take away from the sporting element. Are you coming to the village, Peter?"
"I am," Peter replied. "I will introduce you to some very fine draught beer there."
"Lead on!" Charles said, brightening.