“It will all be such a change for them, you see,” she explained, and Harriet, who was good-natured and willing, delighted to come to London, and not troubled with nerves, promised to do her very best.
Hers was the face which met them as the cab at last drew up at one of a row of houses in a quiet, rather dull, but by no means “slummy” side-street.
“It isn’t so very bad,” said Chrissie, “and that new servant looks rather nice. I suppose she’ll be instead of Fanny.”
“Of course not,” said Leila, “there’ll be no Fanny and no Nurse and no anybody except a cook and housemaid. You certainly will have to put on your own shoes and stockings now!”
And Chrissie’s face, which had brightened a little, clouded over again. But it was not in human nature, above all not in child, even spoilt-child nature, not to try to smile and look pleased, when at the open door of the little drawing-room the sisters caught sight of their mother, and heard Jasper’s joyful cry, “Oh Mumsey, what a sweet little room.”
“Come in, darlings. I’ve been longing so for you,” she exclaimed, “and tea is all ready in the dining-room. Nurse, you must have it with us. Daddy, darlings, won’t be back till seven, but Roley is here.” It was a pretty little room. Mrs Fortescue had wisely kept only such furniture as was really suitable, especially as to size, so there was no look of crowding or “not-at-home-ness” about it. And as the whole house had been freshly painted and papered, there was nothing dark or dingy.
“If I could fancy it was a little house we had got for a few weeks at the seaside somewhere, I’d think it was quite nice,” thought Christabel. “I wonder how many rooms there are. We really need one each if we’re not to be always knocking against each other!”