For some reason, when Mr. Bruce Graham and Miss Brodie were left alone, nothing was said about the recent visitors.
"If you'll sit down and wait," remarked Miss Brodie, "I'll go and take my things off."
Having returned from performing those sacred offices, the topic still remained untouched. Possibly that was because there were so many things which needed doing. When one has been out all day, and keeps no maid, when one returns there are things which must be done. For instance, there was a fire to make. Miss Brodie observed that there ought to have been two, one in the kitchen, and one in the sitting-room; but declared that folks would have to be content with one.
And that one Bruce Graham made.
She brought in the wood, and the coal, and the paper; and then she went to fetch the matches. When she returned she caught him in the act.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
He was on his knees on the hearthrug, with some sticks in his hand.
"Making a fire--on scientific principles. I'm a scientific expert at this kind of thing. Women's methods are unscientific as a rule."
"Indeed." Her air was scornful. "Men always think they can make fires. It's most surprising."
She commented on his methods--particularly when he took the pieces of coal from the scuttle, and placed them in their places with his fingers.