Beryl shook her head.
"Why—why ever not?" said Pamela, in surprise, ringing the bell by the fireplace. "We'll have some at once, shall we?"
"They did ask me if I'd have some—but I said I'd wait. I—I didn't like to—to bother them—till you came," stammered Beryl.
"Why, you must have been awfully cold and hungry after that long railway journey; you should have had a cup of tea and something—I'm sure it wouldn't have been a bit of trouble to them," said Pamela, seizing the poker and stirring up the fire. "Sit down and have a good warm—you look quite cold still. We'll soon have this fire ... there! that's better."
Ellen appeared at this moment, in answer to the bell.
"Oh, could we have some tea, please?" said Pamela. "What time are the other arrivals expected, can you tell me?"
"I don't know, miss," replied Ellen. "At least, not for certain—sometime to-day, that's all Miss Crabingway told us. The last down train gets in at Barrowfield at midnight."
"Oh, I see. Well, it's no good waiting for them, I suppose—we'd better have tea now in case they don't arrive till midnight," said Pamela.
"Very well, miss. I'll bring it in at once," and Ellen departed.
It was rather a queer experience for Pamela, playing hostess in this strange house to strange people, but her frank, easy manners helped her considerably.