Mrs. Ingham-Baker then rang the bell twice, and resumed her seat.
Presently an aged servant came into the room. It was easy to see at a glance that she was a very old woman, but the years seemed to weigh less on her mind than on her body.
“Yes,” she said composedly.
“Oh--eh, Susan,” began Mrs. Ingham-Baker almost cringingly. “I rang because I wanted to know if a parcel has come for me--a parcel of floss-silk--from that shop in Buckingham Palace Road, you know.”
“If it had come,” replied Susan, with withering composure, “it would have been sent up to you.”
“Yes, yes, of course I know that, Susan. But I thought that perhaps it might have been insufficiently addressed or something - that you or Mary might have thought that it was for Mrs. Harrington.”
“She don’t use floss silks,” replied the imperturbable Susan.
“I was just going to ask her about it, when she was called away by some one. I think she said that it was her lawyer.”
“Yes, Mr. Pawson.”
Susan’s manner implied--very subtly and gently--that her place in this pleasant house was more assured than that of Mrs. Ingham-Baker, and perhaps that stout diplomatist awoke to this implication, for she pulled herself up with considerable dignity.