"You'll forget all about us," said Miss Pilkington, who in her capacity as a post-office supervisor daily showed her contempt for the public whose servant she was.
"If you're nice to her," said Mr. Bolton, "she may buy her stamps at your place."
Again Mrs. Craske-Morton's "Really, Mr. Bolton!" eased the situation.
Patricia was for the most part silent. She was thinking of the coming talk with Bowen. In spite of herself she was excited at the prospect of seeing him again. Miss Wangle also said little. From time to time she glanced in Patricia's direction.
"The Wangle's off her feed," whispered Mr. Bolton to Miss Sikkum, producing from her a giggle and an "Oh! Mr. Bolton, you are dreadful."
Mrs. Barnes was worrying as to whether a lord should be addressed as "my lord" or "sir," and if you curtsied to him, and if so how you did it with rheumatism in the knee.
Patricia noticed with amusement the new deference with which everyone treated her. Mrs. Craske-Morton, in particular, was most solicitous that she should make a good meal. Miss Wangle's silence was in itself a tribute. Patricia nervously awaited the moment when Bowen's presence should be announced.
When the time came Gustave rose to the occasion magnificently. Throwing open the
