she knew by heart, poetry was as daily bread. Rosalind in Arden, Viola
in Illyria, were as real to her as Bella Bathgate next door. She had
taken to herself as friends (being herself all the daughters of her
father's house) Maggie Tulliver, Ethel Newcome, Beatrix Esmond, Clara
Middleton, Elizabeth Bennet----

The sound of the gong startled Pamela to her feet.

"You don't mean to say it's luncheon time already? I've taken up your
whole morning."

"It has been perfectly delightful," Jean assured her. "Do stay a long
time at Hillview and come in every day. Don't let Bella Bathgate
frighten you away. She isn't used to letting her rooms, and her manners
are bad, and her long upper lip very quelling; but she's really the
kindest soul on earth.... Would you come in to tea this afternoon? Mrs.
M'Cosh--that's our retainer--bakes rather good scones. I would ask you
to stay to luncheon, but I'm afraid there mightn't be enough to go
round."

Pamela gratefully accepted the invitation to tea, and said as to
luncheon she was sure Miss Bathgate would be awaiting her with a large
dish of stewed steak and carrots saved from the night before--so she
departed.

* * * * *

Later in the day, as Miss Bathgate sat for ten minutes in Mrs. M'Cosh's
shining kitchen and drank a dish of tea, she gave her opinion of the
lodger.