'Ask her, please, to come here.'
Sabina tripped off with a satisfied air, and five—ten—fifteen minutes elapsed and no Ellen. I took out my memorandum and quickly wrote down a few valuable plans on the coming campaign. The clock struck half past eight, and my sister opened the entry door and listened—the kitchen door soon shut and somebody came up stairs slowly, with a waiter full of something.
'Is that you, Dinah?'
'Yes marm.'
'Why didn't you come before?'
'I don't know, mum.'
'Didn't Sabina tell you I wanted you?'
'No, mum. She told me you wanted to know how many were down stairs, and I counted seventeen.'
'Take care Dinah, you're spilling that milk!'
'I can't help it, this pitcher leaks.'