“And melted butter served with it,” suggested Andy.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Jebb.
“I think we’d better not have any waiting,” continued Andy. “Sophy” (Sophy was the small maid) “will hardly be up to it, eh? And is there anything else that you can think of, Mrs. Jebb? Being a lady yourself, you will understand——”
Mrs. Jebb thawed a little and considered dramatically, with her finger to her brow.
“Let’s see. What did we do when we entertained at ‘The Laurels’ in Mr. Jebb’s lifetime? Scented soap. Clean towels. Black and white pins. Ah, there’s one thing I have forgotten—if you really wish to provide all—but in a bachelor’s household they would never——” She paused tantalisingly.
“What is it?” demanded Andy. “Anything I can——”
“Well, perhaps it’s hardly a subject to mention to an unmarried gentleman,” hesitated Mrs. Jebb; “but if you want everything to be complete you ought to provide face powder. It’s always done. Ladies come in warm, or flustered, or shiny about the nose, and a dash of powder means everything to them.”
“But there’s none to be bought in Gaythorpe,” said Andy, cast down at the omission.
“Yes, there is. Go to the grocer’s and ask for a box of violet powder the same as he keeps for babies. That’ll do quite well,” said Mrs. Jebb.
“Oh, I can’t,” said Andy.