“Ah! But, obviously, he has gone on educating himself.”
Another flash. Lady Pomfret assented. Margot continued—
“How do you do it? Your cook, Mrs. Mowland, is another possession, and your housekeeper, Mrs. Randall. It’s wonderful.”
“They are our own people, part of the soil, and we live in the country all the year round. London makes servants restless. Change excites them. We have been fortunate in these—possessions. You are right, Margot, they are priceless.”
“I see you can’t whisper your secret to me.”
“There is no secret.”
Margot laughed, with a little gesture of resignation. Evidently, Lady Pomfret was not to be coaxed or flattered into talking about her amazing butler. Skilfully, she selected and cast another fly.
“Your stillroom maid, Prudence, Fishpingle’s niece, is charming. I ventured to ask for the recipe of those melting griddle cakes we have at tea. She said that the recipe was yours.”
“You are most welcome to it.”
“Thank you so much. Prudence is the apple of Fishpingle’s eye, but you have chief place in his heart.”