An untidy-looking servant was crossing the hall.
“Anastasia,” said Pattie, “will you get tea in the drawing-room, please?”
Anastasia stared at her.
“Indeed, I can’t, miss. Your ma is out, and all the older children have gone to the park with Miss Fry,”—Miss Fry was the much overworked nursery governess—“and the missis told me,” continued Anastasia, “that I was to wash the handkerchiefs and things this afternoon. I have no time to bring tea into the drawing-room, and why should I do it? You always has it in the school-room.”
“I’d much rather have tea in the school-room, Pattie,” said Harriet.
“And so would I,” echoed Ralph.
“You must get your own tea, miss,” continued Anastasia, by no means abashed by the sight of Harriet in her ordinary school frock, and not particularly struck by the beauty of little Ralph.
“I am ever so sorry,” said Pattie, colouring high; “but this is rather an unfortunate day. One of our maids is out, and Mother’s away; and, in short—do you greatly mind waiting in the drawing-room while I get the tea?”
“I don’t much care about tea at all,” said Harriet, who was not a bit gracious, and who was rather disgusted with the appearance of Pattie Pyke’s home. “You needn’t bother, as far as I am concerned.”
“And I don’t want no tea,” said Ralph; “I aren’t a bit hungry.”