"Very good," said her master, with an attempt at dignity; "you can go."
Rosa went, whistling. Mr. Hartley, feeling that he had done all that could be expected of a man, sat down and resumed his tea. The rumbling from the kitchen, as though in an endeavour to make up for lost time, became continuous. It also became louder and more hilarious. Pale and determined Mr. Hartley rose a second time and, seizing the bell-pull, rang violently.
"Does anybody want to see me?" he inquired, as Rosa's head appeared.
"You? No," was the reply.
"I thought," said her master, gazing steadily at the window, "I thought somebody was inquiring for me."
"Well, there hasn't been," said Rosa.
Mr. Hartley, with a magisterial knitting of the brows, which had occasionally been found effective with junior clerks, affected to ponder.
"I—I thought I heard a man's voice," he said at last.
"Nobody's been inquiring for you," said Rosa calmly. "If they did I should come in and let you know. Nobody's been for you that I've heard of, and I don't see how they could come without me knowing it."