She went out accordingly and knocked at Priscilla's
door. Priscilla was in her chair by the fire, lost in troublous
thought. She looked vaguely at the kitchenmaid for a moment, and then
asked her to go away. "I'm busy," explained Priscilla, whose hands
were folded in her lap.
"Please miss, what do you wish for luncheon?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm the--assistant cook at the 'All, miss. Lady Shuttleworth's
assistant cook. Sir Augustus desired me to cook for you to-day."
"Then please do it."
"Yes miss. What do you wish for luncheon?"
"Nothing."
"Yes miss. And the gentleman--don't he want nothing neither?"
"He'll probably tell you when he does."
"Yes miss. It's as well to know a little beforehand, ain't it, miss.
There's nothing in the--a-hem--'ouse, and I suppose I'd have to buy
something."
"Please do."
"Yes miss. Perhaps if you'd tell me what the gentleman likes I could
go out and get it."
"But I don't know what he likes. And wouldn't you get wet? Send
somebody."
"Yes miss. Who?"
Priscilla gazed at her a moment. "Ah yes--" she said, "I forgot.
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