"No—but one doesn't like to refuse things——" Earle said in injured tones.
Before Louie would have had time to reply to this, had she thought of replying to it, a diversion occurred. Nobody had heard steps approaching, but all at once the door opened, and Authority, in the person, not of Miss Harriet, but of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith herself, stood looking in. The hubbub ceased as the boiling of a kettle ceases when cold water is poured in. Several of the conspirators rose to their feet; Burnett Minor, making no bones about it, bolted behind a box. Great is even the look of Authority; it was almost a superfluity when Mrs. Lovenant-Smith asked in measured tones from the doorway: "What is the meaning of this?"
Already the tails of two dressing-gowns had vanished out of the other door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Lovenant-Smith asked again.
Then she looked round to see on whom to fasten her displeasure.
Louie saw her look, and instantly fathomed its purpose. She and Richenda Earle stood by the window, as it were the dramatic centre of some Rembrandtesque composition to which all else was merely contributory. The Scholarship girl was going to get into a row. She, Louie, had lived for years among rows; and was leaving anyway on the morrow.
Before the "Miss Earle" had passed Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's lips Louie had stepped forward.
"We've been waiting for our baths," she said.
Perhaps already Mrs. Lovenant-Smith would have preferred Richenda Earle to Louie; there is expediency even in Authority; but the challenge, if it was that, was a public one. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith turned to Louie.
"Do you know what time it is?" she asked freezingly.