She ran down to the kitchen. Cristina was sitting at a little table, drinking a cup of coffee.
As the door opened, the old woman jumped up with a curious look of apprehension and unease on her face. Then she smiled a rather wan smile. “Ah, Mademoiselle!” she exclaimed. “You startled me. Would you like a cup of coffee? If so, I will bring it up to you in a few minutes.”
“I only want to know where the bathroom is,” said Lily.
Cristina looked at her uncomfortably. “Does Mademoiselle really want a bath?” she asked. “Mademoiselle looks so clean!”
And then, for the first time since she had been at La Solitude, Lily laughed a hearty, ringing, girlish laugh, and Cristina put her fingers to her lips. “Take care,” she murmured, “or you will wake them.”
She opened the door of what Lily had supposed the day before to be that of the scullery. It led straight out on to the small walled courtyard into which the window of her bedroom looked down. She followed Cristina across the courtyard to what looked like a sort of outhouse. The old woman took up her bunch of keys and unlocked the large double door. Then she motioned the girl to go in.
Lily looked about her with considerable curiosity. Surely Cristina could not expect her to have her bath here? And yet—yet there was a long, narrow zinc bath in a corner of the whitewashed building.
Close to where they were now standing—not far, that is, from the door—was a peculiar-looking trolley, of which the four tyred bicycle wheels were so large that they came above the top of the quaint-looking vehicle.
Cristina gave a slight push to this odd-looking object, and it rolled back noiselessly.
“What a very droll-looking thing!” exclaimed Lily.