“Have a cup of tea?” suggested Edward.
“It would be most grateful, young gentlemen. I’m that wet and tired. I hope I may never take another railway journey. London’s the place for me, gentlemen. I ain’t the one to make excursions to the country. I’m a very ‘ospitable person an’ I likes my own home, an’ a very nice ‘ome it is, young sirs; Jetson Terrace—large, light an’ airy rooms; good service and candles prowided.”
Nancy stifled a laugh when she recalled Miss Felicia Rivers’ lodging house. She seemed to see the great creature again sitting before the kitchen fire eating sausages and buttered toast while she murmured: “Large, light and airy rooms; good service; candles prowided.”
Miss Rivers sat down and sipped her tea comfortably.
One of the students glanced uneasily out of the window.
“The rain is over. We had better be going,” he said.
“Will you thank your master for us, please, and tell him we enjoyed his hospitality and the shelter of his home in the storm?” Edward remarked politely to the housekeeper.
“Since you are such friends of the masters, young sirs,” said Miss Rivers, “you must be on the right side.” She paused and looked at them inquiringly.
“We trust so,” replied Edward.
“Maybe, then, you’d take interest in the bit of news I’ve brought with me down from London,” continued the woman, a crafty look in her small fishy eyes that Nancy seemed to remember as if she had seen it only yesterday.