'What a fool I am!' he thought. 'Now everything's spoilt.'

In the silent store-room, hour by hour, Mrs. Marston propelled the
mixture of sugar and egg through her icing syringe, building complex
designs of frosty whiteness.

Her back ached, and it seemed a long way round the cake, but she went
on until Martha, with a note of sympathetic understanding in her voice,
announced:

'Yer dinner's in, mum, and a cup of tea along of it.'

Mrs. Marston sighed gratefully.

'How nice and pleasant!' she said; 'but not as nice and pleasant as it
was--before.'

'Not by a long mile!' said Martha heartily. For Hazel had 'taken the
eye' of all the eligibles at the concert, and was altogether
disturbing.

'Perhaps, Martha,' said Mrs. Marston wistfully, 'when she's been here a
long while, and we're used to her, and she's part of the house--perhaps
it'll be as nice and pleasant as before?'

'When the yeast's in,' said Martha pessimistically, 'the dough's
leavened!'

* * * * *