It was perfectly beautiful, she thought, with its deep brown oak, wax polished to the highest lustre, and its curtains of splendid Venetian velvet in faded crimson and green, on a white satin ground all harmonious with age and mellowing. "I had a terrible struggle to oust the Victorian horrors I had been brought up with, and which had insinuated themselves, as all vulgar things do, into almost every room among their betters--taste was quite dead sixty years ago in my father's day. I had to combat sentiment in myself and ruthlessly condemn the whole lot." "It is most beautiful." Katherine's admiration was indeed sincere. "Yes--it has been a great pleasure to me getting it perfect. You shall see the whole house presently, but now food is the only important matter.--Bronson--I distrust the look of that ham soufflé--are you sure it has not been kept waiting? A second or two alters its consistency. Take it away at once, man!"--with an indignant sniff--"and tell François never to hazard so precarious a dish again for arrivals by motor!" "Very good, Your Ladyship." "One can eat bread and cheese, but one cannot stomach an indifferent soufflé--it is like an emotional woman, its charm is just as capricious and just as ephemeral!" The rest of the lunch was to her taste and no further disapproval was expressed. It was the first time Katherine had broken bread with her mistress, or indeed had even assisted at a whole luncheon. Coffee was the extent of her knowledge hitherto. It interested her to see the varied dishes, to watch the perfect service, the style of the placing and removing of the plates--the rapidity and noiselessness of it all. She thought of the pressed beef and the stout and the cheese-cakes and the frightful untidiness of everything at Laburnum Villa. That was the strange difference, the utter want of method and order which always rendered the home table a mass of litter and miscellaneous implements towards the end of a repast, plates and cups pushed here and there and everywhere. How very good to be out of it all! To her great surprise, Her Ladyship drank beer--clear golden stuff poured from a lovely crystal and silver jug into a chased silver tankard. "The best beverage in Christendom!" that epicure said, as she quaffed it. "Have some, Miss Bush. You are young enough to have no dread of gout. It is a vice with me, the worst thing in the world for my rheumatism, and yet I cannot resist the temptation! The day I return home I must fall to my tankard! To-morrow, Bronson removes the accursed thing to the sideboard, out of sight, and I keep up my courage on ridiculously thin Zeltinger." Katherine tasted it; it was delicious, and as different from what she knew as beer as the tea had been from her original idea of tea. "Isn't it a heavenly drink, girl! I am glad to see you like it."