Mrs. Thomson sniffed.
"I do hope Annie'll manage the showing in all right," went on Jessie. "The Simpsons had one letting you in and another waiting in the bedrooms to help you off with your things."
Mrs. Thomson drew herself up.
"My friends are all capable of taking off their own things, Jessie, I'm thankful to say. They don't need a lady's maid; nor does Mrs. Simpson, let me tell you, for when I first knew her she did her own washing."
"Uch, Mamma," said Jessie.
"It's five minutes to eight," said Alick, "and I hear steps. I bet it's wee Taylor."
"Mercy!" said Mrs. Thomson, hunting wildly for her slippers which she had kicked off. "Am I all right, Jessie? Give me a book—any one—yes, that."
Alick heaved a stout volume—Shakespeare's Country with Coloured Illustrations—into his mother's lap, and she at once became absorbed in it, sitting stiffly in her chair, her skirt spread out.
Mr. Thomson looked nervous; Robert retreated vaguely towards the window curtains; even Jessie felt a little uncertain, though preserving an outward calm.
"There's the bell," said Alick; "I'm off."