I said, calmly, "The matter? Jane has apparently gone mad, that's all."
(Jane is the name of our servant.)
Eliza said that she did not think so, and asked me what the girl had
done.
I must say it made me feel rather sarcastic--it would have made any man
feel sarcastic. I said, "Oh, nothing. Merely lit the fire in the
drawing-room; and not only lit it, but piled coals on it. It is not
Sunday, so far as I am aware." It is our rule to have the drawing-room
fire lit on Sundays only. We are rather exclusive, and some other
people seem to be rather stuck-up, and between the two we do not have
many callers. If any one comes, it is always perfectly easy for Eliza
to say, "The housemaid has foolishly forgotten to light the fire here.
Shall we not step into the dining-room?" I hate to see anything like
waste.
"At this very moment," I added, "the drawing-room fire is flaming
half-way up the chimney. It seems we can afford to burn half a ton of
coals for nothing. I cannot say that I was aware of it."
"You _are_ satirical!" said Eliza. "I always know when you are being
satirical, because you move your eyebrows, and say, 'I am aware,'
instead of 'I know.' I told Jane to light the fire myself."
"May I ask why?"
"Miss Sakers is coming in. She sent me a note this morning to say so."
"That puts a different complexion on the affair. Very tactful of her to
have announced the intention. I do not grudge a handful of firing when
there is a reason. I only ask that there shall be a reason." Miss
Sakers is the vicar's daughter. Strictly speaking, I suppose her social
position is superior to our own. I know for a fact that she has been to
county balls. She seemed anxious to cultivate an intimacy with us, so I
gathered. I was not absurdly pleased about it. One has one's dignity.
Besides, at the office we frequently see people far above Miss Sakers.
A nobleman who had called to see one of the partners once remarked to
me, "Your office is a devilish long way from everywhere!" There was no
particular reason why he should have spoken to me, but he seemed to
wish it. After that, it was no very great thing that Miss Sakers seemed
anxious to know us better. At the same time, I do not pretend that I
was displeased. I went into the drawing-room and put some more coal on.
"Is it to be a party?" I asked.
"Not at all. She is coming quite as a friend."
I went up-stairs and changed all my clothes, and then purchased a few
flowers, which I placed in vases in the drawing-room. Eliza had got two
kinds of cake; I added a plate of mixed biscuits on my own
responsibility. Beyond this, I did nothing in the way of preparation,
wishing to keep the thing as simple and informal as possible.
* * * * *
The tea was quite a success. Miss Sakers was to have a stall at the
bazaar in aid of the new church. I promised her five shillings at
first, but afterward made it seven-and-six. Though no longer young,
Miss Sakers is very pleasant in her manner.
After tea Miss Sakers and Eliza both did needlework. Miss Sakers was
doing a thing in crewels. I could not see what Eliza was doing. She
kept it hidden, almost under the table.
To prevent the conversation from flagging, I said, "Eliza, dear, what
are you making?"
She frowned hard at me, shook her head slightly, and asked Miss Sakers
about the special preacher for Epiphany Sunday.
I at once guessed that Eliza was doing something for Miss Sakers' stall
at the bazaar, and had intended to keep it secret.
I smiled. "Miss Sakers," I said, "I do not know what Eliza is making,
but I am quite sure it is for you."
There was a dead silence. Miss Sakers and Eliza both blushed. Then Miss
Sakers said, without looking at me, "I think you are mistaken."