LITMIR.BIZ

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we may have our supper in the kitchen; Uncle won’t be home for ages. I’ll unpack in the morning.’

      ‘We’ll go upstairs and unpack now,’ said Araminta, ‘otherwise you’ll have to waste the morning doing it, when you might want to be doing something more interesting.’

      ‘You’re awfully bossy,’ said Gloria. ‘I suppose you’ll eat in the kitchen with Buller and Mrs Buller and Maisie?’

      ‘I dare say,’ said Araminta equably. ‘Never mind about me—let’s get our things put away.’

      ‘Patty always saw to our things for us,’ grumbled Jimmy, tumbling shirts into the elegant little tallboy in his room.

      Araminta turned to look at him from the pile of socks she was sorting out. ‘Did she?’ She sounded surprised. ‘But you’re almost grown-up, Jimmy.’

      He muttered a reply, and she went to see how Gloria was getting on.

      She was on the bed, leafing through a magazine, clothes strewn around on the chairs and the floor. She looked up as Araminta went in.

      ‘I can’t be bothered to put everything away—Patty always does it.’

      ‘Well, Patty’s not here, and since I’m not your nanny I think you had better tidy things up, for no one else is going to do it for you.’

      ‘I don’t think I’m going to like you,’ said Gloria.

      ‘That’s a pity, but it’s only for a few days, and if I make you unhappy I’m sure your uncle will try and get someone else from the agency. You see, there wasn’t time for him to pick and choose—he had to take the only person free, and that was me.’

      ‘Haven’t you got a home?’

      ‘Oh, yes, and a father and sister.’

      ‘Why do you go out to work, then?’

      Araminta said bracingly, ‘Let’s not talk about me. I’m not a bit interesting.’

      She sat down on one of the little armchairs by the window and Gloria got off the bed and began to push things into cupboards and drawers.

      ‘I’m tired,’ she grumbled, but she sounded more friendly now. ‘We had to get up ever so early.’

      ‘Well, I expect supper won’t be too long. Then you can come to bed with a book—your uncle’s not here, so you don’t need to stay up unless you want to.’

      ‘Oh.’ She glanced sideways at Araminta. ‘Don’t you mind Tibs sleeping on my bed?’

      ‘Mind? Why should I mind? I like cats—dogs too. How old is she?’

      ‘Daddy gave her to me on my sixth birthday.’

      ‘She’s very pretty, and your constant companion, I dare say.’

      Gloria raked a comb through her hair. ‘I want my supper.’

      ‘Then let’s go and see if it’s ready.’

      ‘Jimmy and me, not you,’ said Gloria. ‘The kitchen staff eat later.’

      ‘We’d better get Jimmy,’ said Araminta mildly. She was used, after a year at the agency, to living in a kind of no man’s land while she was at a job. She had minded at first, but now she accepted whatever status was offered her.

      Supper was ready, and Buller led the children down to the basement kitchen and then came back to where Araminta stood uncertainly in the hall.

      ‘The professor telephoned. He hopes you will dine with him if you are not too tired. In the meantime, once Jimmy and Gloria are in bed, perhaps you would care to sit in the drawing-room? There are the day’s papers there and some magazines.’

      Araminta said bluntly, ‘Aren’t I supposed to take my meals in the kitchen?’

      Buller said in a shocked voice, ‘Certainly not, Miss. I have my instructions from the professor.’

      ‘Well, thank you. I’ll sit in the room where we had tea, shall I, until the children are ready? Will Professor Lister be very late, do you think?’

      ‘There’s no telling, miss. But I should imagine within the next hour or so.’

      So she went and sat by the fire and thought about her day and contemplated the week ahead of her. Jimmy and Gloria were nice young people, she was sure, but, she suspected, spoilt. They were of an age to be rude and thoughtless—she could remember being both at their age—but as long as she could keep them occupied and happy, and at the same time out of their uncle’s way unless he wished for their company, it shouldn’t be too bad.

      They joined her presently and, when she suggested that they might go to bed since they had had a long day, they demurred.

      Araminta made no attempt to change their minds; instead she suggested that they might write letters to their mother. ‘It takes nearly a week by airmail to get to that part of the world,’ she told them, hoping that she was right. ‘Your mother would be glad to hear from you both before she returns.’

      ‘We’ll phone her tomorrow,’ said Jimmy.

      ‘Even better,’ said Araminta. ‘You have the number?’

      He gave her a sulky look. ‘No, of course not. Uncle Jason will know.’

      ‘Then you must be sure and get it from him before he leaves in the morning.’

      She embarked on a tedious conversation about museums, some of which she suggested that they might go and see during the next few days. She was boring herself and, as she had intended, Jimmy and Gloria as well. It wasn’t long before they declared that they would go to bed. Gloria scooped up Tibs, wished Araminta a sullen goodnight, and went upstairs, and Jimmy, after taking Mutt to the kitchen, followed her. Araminta glanced at the little carriage-clock on the mantelpiece. Almost nine o’clock and no sign of Professor Lister. Her insides rumbled emptily; she would have liked to go to bed too, but not on an empty stomach.

      It was very quiet in the house. Buller had suggested that she should sit in the drawing-room once the children were in bed, so she got up and went to the door. The hall was empty and softly lighted and she went a little way into it, wondering which door led to the drawing-room. When she had come to see the professor she had been shown into a room at the back of the house, but there were doors on either side as well. She went to the nearest, opened it, and poked her head round. The dining-room, the oval table laid for dinner, presumably, the silver and glass gleaming in the light of the wall-sconces. She shut the door and crossed the hall to open the one opposite. The library, and a very handsome one too, and, although there was no one there, there was a bright fire burning, and a reading-lamp lighted on one of the small tables drawn up beside the comfortable chairs.

      The professor’s voice, soft in her ear, caused her to withdraw her head smartly. ‘Finding your way around, I hope, Miss Smith?’

      She turned to face him, breathing rather hard. ‘You should never creep up on people,’ she advised him. ‘They might have weak hearts or something! Buller told me to sit in the drawing-room, if I would like that, but I haven’t found it yet.’

      He towered over her, looking concerned and at the same time impatient.

      ‘My dear Miss Smith, my apologies—I trust no harm has been done to your heart or—er—something. The drawing-room is over here.’ He led the way across the hall and opened another door, and she went past him and stood waiting.

      ‘Please sit down. I dare say you’re starving, but do have a glass of sherry before we dine.’

      ‘Thank you. There’s another thing, Professor Lister. Buller gave me a message that I was to dine with you, but if I might put you right about that…I’m just someone from an agency, not your guest. Usually I have my meals in the kitchen with the staff.’

      ‘While you are in my house you will be so good as to take your meals

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