the dining-room at the further end. Here stood a man in steward's livery
ready to serve, while from the door of the kitchen another older man,
thin and tanned, in a cook's white cap and apron, looked
benevolently out.

"Smells good, Yerkes!" said Gaddesden as he passed.

The cook nodded.

"If only her ladyship'll find something she likes," he said, not without
a slight tone of reproach.

"You hear that, Elizabeth?" said her brother as they sat down to the
well-spread board.

Elizabeth looked plaintive. It was one of her chief weaknesses to wish
to be liked--adored, perhaps, is the better word--by her servants and
she generally accomplished it. But the price of Yerkes's affections
was too high.

"It seems to me that we have only just finished luncheon, not to speak
of tea," she said, looking in dismay at the menu before her. "Phil, do
you wish to see me return home like Mrs. Melhuish?"

Phil surveyed his sister. Mrs. Melhuish was the wife of their local
clergyman in Hampshire; a poor lady plagued by abnormal weight, and a
heart disease.

"You might borrow pounds from Mrs. Melhuish, and nobody would ever know.
You really are too thin, Lisa--a perfect scarecrow. Of course Yerkes