This part of the room was furnished as a study. The stained book-shelves were loaded with ponderous-looking books. A writing-table occupied one window, and two comfortable easy-chairs, and Joanna's overflowing work-basket, stood on either side of the fireplace. A book-stand and a reading-lamp were by Thorold's chair; the front portion of the room was used for their meals.
When Thorold came down that evening the room looked warm and cosy. The crimson curtains were drawn, and a bright fire blazed cheerfully. The supper was laid, and Jemima had just brought in a small, covered dish, and placed it before her mistress. Thorold was hungry, for his luncheon had been a light one. For a wonder, the chops were well cooked and hot; and as he helped himself to the nicely browned mashed potatoes, he felt disposed to enjoy himself. He would tell Joanna about his visit to Murdoch & Williams. She would be interested; and for once they would have a sociable evening. He even thought that he would ask for a cup of coffee, as he felt chilled and tired. And then, by way of making himself pleasant, he commended Jemima's cookery.
It was an unfortunate choice of subjects. Joanna, who had been tranquilly eating her supper, suddenly grew red and querulous.
"Ah, she can cook well enough if she chooses," she returned, "but there! she so seldom chooses to take pains. Thorold, I shall have to part with that girl; her wastefulness and extravagance are beyond everything. And then she is so self-willed, too—she will not mind anything I tell her. Again and again I have begged her not to put an egg in the rice pudding, but she does it all the same."
"I suppose she thinks the egg will make the pudding nicer," returned Thorold, mildly; and then, to change the subject, he said, boldly, "I have rather a headache this evening, dear. Do you think Jemima could make me a cup of coffee?"
"She could make it, but I doubt if you would care to drink it," she returned, fretfully. "And she wants to go out, too. She has got a young man, I know she has; I taxed her with it this very morning, and she was as impertinent as possible."
"My dear Joa"—for his sense of fairness was roused by this—"why should not the poor girl have a lover? She is very good-looking, and as long as she conducts herself properly I can see no objection to the young man."
"Yes, and she will be having him in, and giving him supper when we are out—not that I ever do go out, Heaven knows! I declare I quite envy you, Thorold, going out every morning to your work. Women's lives are far more dull and monotonous than men's;" here Joanna's voice waxed more plaintive than ever—it was naturally rather a sweet voice, but fretfulness and discontent had deadened the harmony. If, as they say, the closing of an eyelid will shut out the lustre of a planet, so, to Joanna, the small everyday worries seemed to obliterate the larger and grander interests of life. Jemima's good looks, her lover, her small impertinences and misdemeanours, loomed like gigantic shadows on her horizon. "If she could only learn the right proportion of things!" Thorold had said once to Althea, almost in despair.
When Joanna made her dolorous little speech, Thorold raised his eyes from his plate and looked at her. "Why do you not go to the Red House oftener?" he asked, gravely. "You know how glad they would be to have you. You stay at home too much, Joa, but it is your own fault, you know. Doreen and Althea are always sending you invitations."
"Yes, I know, and I am very fond of Althea. But somehow I never care to go to the Red House; it reminds me too much of the dear old Manor House. That room of Althea's makes me quite shiver when I enter it."