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Carmel’s attitude; having successfully palmed off on herself a perfectly satisfactory Professor, what did she want with the scarred and uneasy figure of truth? It made no difference in her reception of him whether Mr. Belinski had been the victim of appendicitis or of mob violence; but it made a great difference to Lady Carmel, who was mildly interested in the first, but could not bear to contemplate the second.
    â€œHave you a dinner-jacket?” asked Lady Carmel.
    The Professor shook his head.
    â€œI am so sorry. I have only this suit and one other. And four shirts.” (He found he didn’t mind telling her this in the least.)
    â€œThen Andrew, who has two, shall lend you one; you’re much the same build. That is because,” explained Lady Carmel, “my husband always dresses for dinner, but if he saw you didn’t, he wouldn’t, and that would worry him, because he likes me to dress, always. I’m being so frank because we hope you’ll stay with us some time, and to have poor Harry worrying for months would be too bad. You don’t mind?”
    â€œI do not think I would mind anything said by you.”
    â€œThat’s a great compliment. You mustn’t mind anything my husband says either. Though I’m so fond of travel myself,” explained Lady Carmel, “he is not; and he’s so used to England as home, he quite forgets other countries are home too. It must be very sad to be away; but let us hope, only temporarily.” (By this oblique reference Lady Carmel covered the entire European situation, and felt she had said quite enough.) “So you must borrow anything you want from Andrew, Professor, and there are several thousand books in the library; my husband sleeps there in the afternoon, but otherwise it is very little used. Syrett will valet you—”
    â€œDear Lady Carmel, I was never valeted in my life.”
    â€œWell, do you mind letting Syrett, so as not to hurt his feelings? I don’t suppose he’ll do much, in fact Andrew says he just eats his head off, but he wouldn’t like to be told not to. I’m being so perfectly frank, Professor, because I never forget how once as a girl I completely disorganized a French household by coming downstairs to breakfast. When I found out by accident, after nearly three months, I was so mortified that I’ve never liked France since. It’s the other countries I want to travel in,” said Lady Carmel hastily.
    V
    As Andrew and John Frewen were returning from the stables, whither they had gone to inspect certain arrangements made there by Andrew, they were crossed by Cluny Brown, travelling at great speed.
    â€œWho’s that?” asked John.
    â€œNew maid,” said Andrew indifferently.
    â€œLooks to me like an anarchist,” said John.
    Cluny’s appearance was indeed rather wild, for she had pulled off her cap and released her pony tail when she ran out to get a breath of air. But her determined expression (like her need for a breather) was purely professional: her coming début at the dinner table was weighing on her more than she would own. The ousted Hilda, on the other hand, was even then singing “Jeepers-Creepers” in the larder. A girl entirely without ambition, she had hailed their change of functions with frank delight. (And she was good-hearted as well: the reason she was in the larder was because she was getting Cluny a snack to fortify her for the coming ordeal.) Cluny was not exactly ambitious—at any rate so far as parlour-maiding was concerned—but she had a great desire to startle Mr. Syrett. She was keyed up like a prima donna, and far too preoccupied to notice either of the young men.
    â€œSit down a minute, my dear,” said Mrs. Maile kindly, as Cluny came loping back into domestic territory, “and then get Hilda to help you fasten your hair.”
    â€œShall I cut it off?” suggested Cluny