Page:The Lark - E Nesbit, 1922.djvu/30

Rh "That chauffeur was a gentleman. Did you notice his voice? And towards the end he quite forgot to call us 'miss.' I thought he had an awfully nice face, didn't you?"

"We've got something to think of besides chauffeurs' faces," said Lucilla. "There are no shops for miles, I expect, and I'm absolutely starving."

"Perhaps there's something to eat in the house."

"Not likely," said Lucilla.

"Well, let's look over the house. It's no use standing in the passage all night saying how hungry you are," said Jane impatiently.

There were two little sitting-rooms, one on each side of the front door. The first was furnished primly in Middle-Victorian walnut and faded satin. It had a piano with a fluted yellow silk front, and glass lustres to the mantelpiece. A vase of roses stood on a table in the window.

"Nothing to eat here!" said Lucilla bitterly.

But Jane had opened the door of the other room.

"Oh, Lucy!" she called. "Come her!"

The second room was a little dining-room, with mahogany cheffonier and maple-framed engravings of the Monarch of the Glen, the Maid of Saragossa, and Bolton Abbey in the olden time. In the middle of the room stood a table—almost it seemed to beckon, with its white cloth, its gleams of silver and glass.

"Cold chicken!" said Lucilla. "Salad—raspberries—tea-things—milk—bread, butter, jam—everything! Oh, and cream! Oh, Jane!"

"Here's a letter," said Jane. It wasn't really a letter; just a slip of paper in the well-known handwriting of Mr. Arthur Panton.

"Unavoidably called away. Please make yourselves completely at home.—A. P. "P.S.—Kettle and spirit-stove in the kitchen. Tea in caddy in cheffonier."

The two girls looked at each other.