Don't worry; we shall pull through all right. I shall be back with her in time to see to the mutton."
But when he came back it was not with Mrs. Doveton, but with Simmons.
"Mrs. Doveton was out—and Simmons is a regular cordon bleu. The dinner will be all right."
"Mrs. Dadd has gone, that's something," said Jane.
"Couldn't Mr. Dix help?" suggested Lucilla, but Rochester said that it was not worth while to trouble Mr. Dix. Then Lucilla had her brilliant idea.
"Oh, Jane," she said, "don't you think it would be a good thing if Mr. Rochester would have dinner with us? Because who's to carve the mutton?"
"I wish you would," said Jane, not displeased at being able to show Mr. Rochester that her feelings were quite friendly. "They can't trample on us so heavily if you're here."
"I should love it," he said. "Shall I dress?"
Mr. Rochester was careful not to suggest that Forbes could carve the mutton on the sideboard.
"Oh yes," said both the girls, and Jane added: "It would be so much more impressive." But the next moment she changed her mind.
"Perhaps better not," she said. "Evening dress might look swanky — and besides . . ."
Rochester understood that "besides" when he arrived at eight o'clock to find "that wretched Dix" already in the drawing-room being agreeable to one of the potato-faced ladies. Jane and Lucilla in very pretty frocks were timidly submitting to be trampled on by the other two.
Mr. Simmons in the kitchen, assisted by a glowing Gladys, produced a real dinner. The soup was tinned, it is true, but the fish was not, and the pineapples were made into fritters; the peaches were coated with crême caramel, there was a cheese soufflé, and perfect coffee appeared at the right moment. There were double doors between hall and what are called the domestic offices, but once, during fish (which Simmons had
