’You don’t mean to tell me,’ said Ross, pushing back his chair and glaring at Sam, ’that I’ve _had_ my dinner?’ ’You’ve had what there was of it, sir.’ ’Well, I’m jiggered. Why on earth, Meg, don’t you make them cook more food. Really——’ ’’Tisn’t her fault,’ said Sam, still in the Hickley Woods, sticking up for me as he always did; ’she’s told them times without number; it’s no good blaming her. Shall I cut some sandwiches?’ ’Sam, I suppose I can reprove my sister without your interfering, and I never blame, I always rule by love.’ ’Same as you did this morning, sir,’ grinned Sam, ’will you have large cups of coffee with your sandwiches?’ ’Do you think that’s a respectful remark to make to your superior officer, Brown?’ ’No, sir, sorry.’ ’I shall judge the measure of your repentance by the number of sandwiches you cut,’ said Ross, ’and if the cups of coffee are very large, I might be inclined to overlook your cheek, otherwise——’ But Sam had vanished into the kitchen, and we went into the hall to wait for supper. A few minutes afterwards, Sam dumped a tray of food on the table. We settled down comfortably for a good long evening. At 10.15, just as we were beginning to enjoy ourselves, Sam came in, he looked like milk and butter, and his voice was a caress. ’Turned your bath on, sir.’ ’Are you dotty, Brown?’ asked my brother. ’Certainly not, sir.’ ’Well, what are you gassing about baths for at this hour of the afternoon, you gloomy ox, you’re worse than a keeper.’ ’Orders is orders, sir. If I’ve got to go to bed at 11 you’ll have to go at 10.15, if I’m to see to your arm.’ ’My hat,’ ejaculated Ross, looking across at me in hopeless consternation, ’_what_ a fool I am.’ ’First of April, sir,’ said Sam, and fled upstairs. *CHAPTER XIX* I can’t manage my ’staff,’ I wish I were an Eastern Queen, then I should sort of call the eunuchs when I wanted anything, instead of which the maids do exactly what they like. Ross says if I won’t let Sam ’do something’ I must put my own foot down. The S.P. brings my early tea in a silver teapot instead of the little brown chap I told her I preferred. So I hid the beastly thing under my bed, hoping she would take the hint and see I really meant it. She came and asked me if that was where I wished the silver kept in future! Then when I ordered the dinner to-day I said to Dulcie, ’Send in the junket in the old blue china bowl, please.’ It came in that silver dish we use for cutlets. So I wouldn’t eat the junket—said it would taste of mutton cutlets, and after lunch the S.P. rowed me for saying the silver wasn’t clean, which I hadn’t even thought of, for she keeps it beautifully. Putting my foot down made my face so hot that I retired to my bedroom to recover, but alas! Fitzbattleaxe was making the day hideous with his howls. He was lodged on a ledge in my chimney, just out of reach, and was apparently afraid to jump the precipice into my bedroom.