Mr. Wilton handed her the letter in silence. She ferreted about her person for her glasses, which after some trouble she found. Placing them upon her nose she read the communication slowly and deliberately. Having done so she handed it back to Mr. Wilton.
"Her ladyship hasn't said anythink to me about the matter," she said in an aggrieved tone.
"Nor me either," said Mr. Wilton.
Mrs. Marlings sniffed, as if there was nothing in her mistress not having taken Mr. Wilton into her confidence.
"'Ere, come along, boys!" cried Bindle. "They don't seem to want these 'ere goods. We'd better take 'em back. Keep us 'ere all day at this rate."
This remark seemed to galvanise Mr. Wilton into action.
"You had better do as you have been instructed," he said. This he felt was a master-stroke by which he avoided all responsibility. He could truthfully say that he had not given orders for the bedsteads and bedding to be brought into the house.
From that moment Mr. Wilton's attitude towards the whole business was one of detached superiority, which seemed to say, "Here is a matter about which I have not been consulted. I shall merely await the inevitable catastrophe, which I foresee, and as becomes a man, endeavour to render such assistance as I can in gathering up the pieces."
With great dignity he led the way to the drawing-room on the first floor, followed by Bindle, Ginger and John. Mrs. Marlings disappeared again into the shadows from which she had emerged. Once in the drawing-room, Ginger began to disembarrass himself of his coat, and with incomparable gloom proceeded to roll it up and place it upon the mantelpiece beside the ormolu clock. Mr. Wilton stepped forward quickly.