The maid's face flushed scarlet.
'Miss Frances!' she began reproachfully.
Jacinth looked annoyed. In spite of her defence of her aunt's system and her own love of independence and self-confidence, she did feel conscious that the three of them were left in some ways too much to themselves: her sister's tone was not quite what a young lady's should be in speaking to a servant.
'Frances,' she said. 'I think it's very bad taste to joke about serious things, and being too late nearly every morning is a serious thing.'
'I wasn't joking,' Frances replied.
'Well, say no more about it. We'd better start if we're going to. Phebe, do you think there's any chance of cook's giving us some cake, or even some bread-and-butter, to take with us?'
Phebe shook her head.
'I'm afraid not, Miss Jacinth,' she replied. 'She'd only complain to Miss Mildmay; it's best not to ask.'
'And I really can't afford any more pennies for buns,' said Jacinth. 'We must trust to getting a good tea when we come home.'
'Will Aunt Alison be in for tea?' said Frances. 'Oh no—it's Friday. I forgot,' with a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice.