herself was late. At that moment she appeared.

"Good-morning, uncle."

She was cold, prim, cut off like China from human intercourse by a wall.

"Th' servant has na' come," said he, straining to be tolerant and
amicable. He did his best to keep a grieved astonishment out of his
voice; but he could not.

"Oh!" she murmured, calmly. It was nothing to her, then, that James's
life should be turned upside down! And she added, with icy detachment:
"I'm not surprised. You'll never get servants to be prompt in the
morning when they don't sleep in the house. And there's no room for
Georgiana to sleep in the house."

Georgiana! Preposterous name!

"Mrs. Butt was always prompt. I'll say that for her," he replied.

This, as he immediately recognised, was a failure in tact on his part.
So when she said quickly: "I'm sure Mrs. Butt would be delighted to come
back if you asked her," he said nothing.

What staggered his intellect and his knowledge of human nature was that
she remained absolutely unmoved by this appalling, unprecedented, and
complete absence of any sign of breakfast at after eight o'clock.

Just then Georgiana came. She had a key to the back door, and entered
the house by way of the scullery.