"There will be a very nice dinner," smiled my mother, "but it will be
in the kitchen, and there's no way of getting it upstairs." And they
explained to her the situation.

She stood for an instant, her sweet face the gravest in the group.
Then a light broke upon it.

"I'll get you someone," she said.

"My dear, you don't even know the neighbourhood," began my mother.
But Barbara had snatched the latchkey from its nail and was gone.

With her disappearance, shadow fell again upon us. "If there were
only an hotel in this beastly neighbourhood," said my father.

"You must entertain them by yourself, Luke," said my mother; "and I
must wait--that's all."

"Don't be absurd, Maggie," cried my father, getting angry. "Can't
cook bring it in?"

"No one can cook a dinner and serve it, too," answered my mother,
impatiently. "Besides, she's not presentable."

"What about Fan?" whispered my father.

My mother merely looked. It was sufficient.

"Paul?" suggested my father.