“But if the dear boy is hungry—” put in Mrs. Webster plaintively.
“And if he is, he will make a raid on the pantry, Aunt Lizzie,” Dan said with a comically solemn air.
This was not to be endured. Dan’s raids upon the pantry were not unknown experiences in the term of years Miss Linkin had officiated in the capacity of housekeeper.
Miss Linkin instantly “made tracks,” as Dan expressed it, for the kitchen, where a middle-aged, expressionless servant was putting plates and dishes on the rack to warm.
“Mr. Dan would like supper hurried on,” Miss Linkin explained, as she drew a jug of beer from a small barrel and carried it herself to the dining-room.
“Good for you, auntie!” exclaimed Dan, reaching a tumbler out of the sideboard. “This will keep me going till supper.”
“Isabel is dining with the head mistress of the James Allen School to-night, Dan,” Mrs. Webster remarked as Dan set down his tumbler. “You might fetch her home if you are not too tired. You know the house in Rosendale Road?”
Yes, of course Dan knew it, and he would be delighted to fetch Isabel.
Mary Ann, the old servant, appeared to lay the table, and Dan went out to his studio, where he lit the gas fire. He had had gas laid on, though lamps were chiefly used at Vine Cottage.
The studio was constructed of wood, which was done over with brown Stockholm tar, and there was a brick recess at one end for the gas stove, and a chimney to carry off fumes.