So there was another person in it; and one quite wanting in the sympathy felt by Sam Petch.
There is a saying that everybody loves a lover, but, though it sounds nice, it is not true; anyway, it does not go far enough. Everybody loves a lover in some one else’s household.
And, of course, Mrs. Jebb did not want Andy to marry, because she would then certainly lose one of her titles and be only lady-cook, and possibly she might lose her place altogether. Therefore she was anxious, and, being a nervous person, she was also irritable, and being human, like all the rest of us, she felt inclined to pass on some of the discomfort to the cause of it.
So she waited about the hall after luncheon, dusting and rearranging, until Andy’s bedroom door opened and she heard him coming downstairs. She knew he would have the flowers in his hand and that he would prefer to escape unobserved. If not, why had he put them in his washbasin instead of asking for a proper receptacle?
She kept very quiet, holding her breath and looking up. Andy, also very quiet, craned his head far over the banisters and looked down.
Now there is no reason in the world why a gentleman should not lean over his own banisters if he so desire, and there is equally no reason why his lady-cook-housekeeper should not look up towards the first landing; but the fact remains that when the two pairs of eyes met they both blinked with conscious guilt.
“Oh—er—I was just wondering if you were there,” said Andy. “Could you give me a bit of string?”
Andy—who was still boy enough always to have string in his pockets!
And Mrs. Jebb said, almost at the same moment—
“I was just looking at that crack in the ceiling. I often wonder if it really is safe.”