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bedrooms they are to have—”
    From the file she took a sheet of paper which Lucy saw was a printed plan of the first floor of the house— evidently nothing was left to chance at Spindles!
    “Lord Manderville in his usual room,” she murmured, pencilling in his name. “Lisa here —she’ll have a good view of the vegetable garden from the windows— she likes to see the results of her labours! Jeremy Trent—” her pencil hesitated and then wrote in the names. “Yes, that will do. I’ll put Sinclair Forbes in the adjoining room and they can share a bathroom. That’s the men. Now—Marion—” She frowned and tapped the list impatiently. “If only I knew whether it was to be the Champneys or the Littletons! One way I want a double room, the other way, two singles. Difficult!”
    “Would it help if someone had my—had the room you’ve given me?” Lucy suggested diffidently. “I mean, it’s such a lovely one—and with its own bathroom. Surely it’s one you usually use for your guests?”
    “Yes, it is,” Mrs. Mayberry admitted. “Thank you for suggesting it, Lucy. Well then, if it’s the Champneys, they can have the room just opposite yours, and if it’s the Littletons, Celia can have that room and Robin can have yours. Then—” her pencil hovered uncertainly, “I’m afraid that means putting you in rather a dull little room without much of. a view and without its own bathroom. Will you mind very much?”
    “Not a bit,” Lucy averred cheerfully.
    “Of course,” Mrs. Mayberry remarked, “some people would say that we are silly to give the staff so many of the good rooms, but after all, they are here all the time and we furnish theirs as bed-sitting rooms. Everybody needs somewhere comfortable where they can be alone if they want to, don’t you think?”
    “I think it’s very thoughtful of you,” Lucy said wholeheartedly. She had certainly been grateful that her room had afforded her that luxury.
    “That’s all, then,” Mrs. Mayberry said with a sigh of relief.
    “You haven’t allocated a room for Miss Singleton,” Lucy reminded her.
    “Oh, Marion always has this room if it is possible.”
    Mrs. Mayberry indicated it and Lucy saw that not only was it the largest of the single rooms, but also that in addition to a bathroom it also had a small sitting room opening off it. Clearly Marion Singleton was a very much favoured guest at Spindles!
    “There!” Mrs. Mayberry sat back. “Now, if you will fill in the names in rather bold print—Bertha’s eyesight isn’t as good as it was, but she won’t wear glasses —you can give it to her and she can have the rooms prepared. Now, is there anything else? Places at table. No, I can’t see to that until we know just who is coming. Oh—yes, there is just one thing, dear. On these occasions, we dress for dinner. It’s the only concession we make to convention. Nothing elaborate, though. A cocktail dress—?” There was an upward inflection in her voice which was an obvious question.
    “I haven’t anything suitable here,” Lucy told her. “But—but I have at home.”
    “Good! Then can you have it sent—no, better than that. You’ve been a month away from home now, and I’m sure your parents would like to see you. Why not go home tomorrow, stay the night and return the following day?”
    Lucy swallowed hard. She knew quite well that Mrs. Mayberry was right. Her parents, now home from their holiday, would like to see her, but facing up to them was going to be something of an ordeal. They wouldn’t ask questions, and they wouldn’t mention Dick—but she would know what was in their minds. Keeping up appearances would certainly be more difficult than it was here where no one concerned themselves with her affairs—even Owen had stopped watching her with that half cynical, half apprehensive look which suggested that he thought she was going to faint or burst into tears at any moment.
    Then, too, the cocktail dress she had in mind had