"Then she can say it to someone else," said Eva curtly. "I hate big dogs—I wish you'd get rid of her."
Herrick made no reply, but opened the door, and they went into the house together.
Eva passed into the quaintly attractive sitting-room with a frown on her face, which lightened, however, at sight of the tea-table standing ready, and pulling off her gloves and coat she flung herself into a low chair with a sigh of fatigue.
"Heavens, how thirsty I am," she said. "Give me some tea, Jim—quickly." And as he moved forward to obey her, her eyes followed him with a curious expression in their grey depths.
"What's for dinner?" she asked, suddenly, and Herrick looked his memory to recall the menu.
"Soup, roast chicken, plum tart, and a savoury," he said at last, smiling with a rather pathetic attempt at cheerfulness. "Mrs. Swastika, as I call her, is what is known as a 'good plain cook,' but anything at all elaborate throws her off her balance altogether."
"Have you no other servants?" she demanded shortly.
"Not yet. I didn't want them, you know, and I thought you would prefer to choose them yourself."
"I? If I can get any," she said darkly, drawing her delicate brows together resentfully. "Of course they won't stay when they find out things; but we must be decently waited on."
Herrick made no reply; and his silence exasperated the girl, whose nerves were all on edge.