“What a close, dismal sort of place!” said Jasper.
“Please—please do not speak so loud; father may overhear us.”
“Then mum’s the word,” said the woman.
“Step on the grass here, please.”
Jasper did exactly as Sylvia directed her, and the result was that soon the two found themselves in as empty a kitchen as Jasper had ever beheld in the whole course of her life.
“Sakes, child!” she cried, “is this where you cook your meals?”
“The kitchen does quite well enough for our requirements,” said Sylvia in a low tone.
“And where are you going to put me?”
“In this room. I think in the happy days when the house was full this room must have been used as the servants’ hall. See, there is a nice fireplace, with a good fire in it. I have drawn down the blinds, and I have put thick curtains—the only thick curtains we possess—across the windows. There are shutters too. If my father does walk abroad he cannot see any light through this window. But I am sorry to say you can have a fire only at night, for he would be very angry if he saw the smoke ascending in the daytime.”
“Hard lines! But I suppose, as I made the offer, I must abide by it,” said Jasper. “The room looks bare but well enough. It is clean, I suppose?”