“Well, I’m not coming to sit still and do nothing,” said her father firmly, “so I’ll stay at home and write letters.” He watched them from the terrace a little later, racing across the lawn, and smiled a little. It was so unlikely that this long-legged family of his would ever really grow up.
The house was very quiet that morning. Mrs. Atkins and Miss de Lisle having quarrelled over the question of dinner, had retreated, the one to the housekeeper’s room, the other to the kitchen. Sarah went about her duties sourly. Allenby was Sarah’s uncle, and, as such, felt some duty to her, which he considered he had discharged in getting her a good place; beyond that, Sarah frankly bored him, and he saw no reason to let her regard him as anything else than a butler. “Bad for discipline, too!” he reflected. Therefore Allenby was lonely. He read the Daily Mail in the seclusion of his pantry, and then, strolling through the hall, with a watchful eye alert lest a speck of dust should have escaped Sarah, he saw his master cross the garden and strike across the park in the direction of Hawkins’ farm. Every one else was out, Allenby knew not where. An impulse for fresh air fell upon him, and he sauntered towards the shrubbery.
Voices and laughter came to him from the cottage. He pushed through the shrubs and found himself near a window; and, peeping through, received a severe shock to his well-trained nerves. Norah, enveloped in a huge apron, was energetically polishing the kitchen tins; the boys, in their shirt-sleeves, were equally busy, Wally scrubbing the sink with Monkey soap, and Jim blackleading the stove. It was very clear that work was no new thing to any of the trio. Allenby gasped with horror.
“Officers, too!” he ejaculated. “What’s the world coming to, I wonder!” He hesitated a moment, and then walked round to the back door.
“May I come in, please, miss?”
“Oh, come in, Allenby,” Norah said, a little confused. “We’re busy, you see. Did you want anything?”
“No, miss, thank you. But really, miss—I could ’ave got a woman from the village for you, to do all this. Or Sarah.”
“Sarah has quite enough to do,” said Norah.
“Indeed, Sarah’s not killed with work,” said that damsel’s uncle. “I don’t like to see you soilin’ your ’ands, miss. Nor the gentlemen.”
“The gentlemen are all right,” said Wally cheerfully. “Look at this sink, now, Allenby; did you ever see anything better?”