"It mayn't be for supper," debated Jan.
"Cook said it was. I asked her. She thought somebody was coming. I say, Jan, if you miss any of the castor oil, don't go and say I drank it."
Jan lifted his eyes to a shelf opposite, where various glass bottles stood. Among them was the one containing the castor oil. "Who has been at it?" he asked.
"Miss Amilly. She came and filled that great fat glass pot of hers, with her own hands; and she made me drop in some essence of cloves to scent it. Won't her hair smell of it to-night!"
"They'll make castor oil scarce, if they go at it like that," said Jan indifferently.
"They use about a quart a month; I know they do; the three of 'em together," exclaimed young Cheese, as vehemently as if the loss of the castor oil was personal. "How their nightcaps must be greased!"
"Sibylla doesn't use it," said Jan.
"Doesn't she, though!" retorted young Cheese, with acrimony. "She uses many things on the sly that she pretends not to use. She's as vain as a peacock. Did you hear about—"
Master Cheese cut his question short. Coming in at the surgery door was Lionel Verner.
"Well, Jan! What about Decima? After waiting ages at the Court for you to come downstairs and report, I found you were gone."