houses of women for a bit. England’s drink is England’s shame—I’ll never depart from that! Now, Daisy, child, get up, do! Put down that paper. We’ve heard quite enough. You can be laying the cloth while I goes down the kitchen."
"Yes, you mustn’t be forgetting the lodger’s supper," called out Bunting. "Mr. Sleuth don’t always ring" he turned to Chandler. "For one thing, he’s often out about this time."
"Not often—just now and again, when he wants to buy something," snapped out Mrs. Bunting. "But I hadn’t forgot his supper. He never do want it before eight o’clock."
"Let me take up the lodger’s supper, Ellen," Daisy’s eager voice broke in. She had got up in obedience to her stepmother, and was now laying the cloth.
"Certainly not! I told you he only wanted me to wait on him. You have your work cut out looking after things down here—that’s where I wants you to help me."
Chandler also got up. Somehow he didn’t like to be doing nothing while Daisy was so busy. "Yes," he said, looking across at Mrs. Bunting, "I’d forgotten about your lodger. Going on all right, eh?"
"Never knew so quiet and well-behaved a gentleman," said Bunting. "He turned our luck, did Mr. Sleuth."
His wife left the room, and after she had gone Daisy laughed. "You’ll hardly believe it, Mr. Chandler, but I’ve never seen this wonderful lodger. Ellen keeps him to herself, that she does! If I was father I’d be jealous!"
Both men laughed. Ellen? No, the idea was too funny.
