Miss Hancock looked around her at the books, at the carpet, at the general litter. She came to the mantelpiece and touched it, looked at the tip of her gloved finger to assay the quantity of dust to the square millimetre, said, "Pah!" and sat down in the armchair. A _Pink Un_ of George Lambert's lay invitingly near her on the table; she picked it up, glanced at the title, read a joke, turned purple, and dropped the raciest of all racing papers just as Fanny, fresh and charming, but somewhat bewildered-looking, entered the room. Fanny felt sure that this visit of Miss Hancock's had something to do with the letter of her brother's. She was relieved when her visitor, after extending a hand emotionless and chill as the fin of a turtle, said: "I had some business in Highgate, so I thought I would take the opportunity of returning your parasol, which you left behind you the other night." "Thanks awfully," said Fanny; "it's awfully good of you to take the trouble. Please excuse the untidiness; we are in a great upset for--the painters are coming in. Won't you come into the breakfast-room? There's a fire there; it's not cold, I know, but I always think a fire is so bright." She led the way to the breakfast-room, her visitor following, anxious to see as much as she could of the inner working of the Lambert household. She gave a little start at the sight of the breakfast things not removed, and another start at sight of the provender laid out for one small person. The remains of a round of beef graced one end of the board, and a haddock that, had it been let grow, would assuredly have ended its life in the form of a whale, the other; there was also jam and other things, including some shortbread on a plate. "Have you had breakfast?" asked Fanny in a hospitable tone of voice. "I breakfasted at quarter to eight," said Miss Hancock with a scarcely perceptible emphasis on the "I." "I know we're awfully late as a rule," said Fanny, as they sat down near the window, in and out of which the wasps were coming, and through which the sun shone, laying a burning square on the carpet, "but I hate early breakfast. When I breakfast at eight I feel a hundred years old by twelve. Did you ever notice how awfully long mornings are?" "My mornings," said Miss Hancock, laying a scarcely perceptible accent on the "my," "are all too short; an hour lost in the morning is never regained. You cannot expect servants to be active and diligent without you set them the example. We are placed, I think, in a very responsible position with regard to our servants: as we make them so they are." "Do you think so?" said Fanny, trying to consider what part she possibly could have had in the construction of James and the helpmeet Susannah. "I am sure of it. If we are idle or lazy ourselves they imitate us; they are like children, and we should treat them as such. I ring the bell at half-past five every morning for the maids, and I expect them to be down by six."