In the kitchen sat the Shuttleworth kitchenmaid, a most accomplished young person, listening to the groans and wondering what next. Tussie had sent her, with fearful threats of what sort of character she would get if she refused to go. She had at once given notice, but had been forced all the same to go, being driven over in a dog-cart in the early morning rain by a groom who made laboured pleasantries at her expense. She could cook very well, almost as well as that great personage the Shuttleworth cook, but she could only cook if there were things to be cooked; and what she found at Creeper Cottage was the rest of the ginger biscuits and sardines. Well, I will not linger over that. Priscilla did get breakfast somehow, the girl, after trying vainly to strike sparks of helpfulness out of Annalise, going to the store and ordering what was necessary. Then she washed up, while Annalise tripped in and out for the express purpose, so it seemed, of turning up her nose; then she sat and waited and wondered what next. For a long time she supposed somebody would send for her to come and talk about luncheon; but nobody did. She heard the ceaseless stridings in the next room, and every now and then the groans. The rain on the kitchen window did not patter more ceaselessly than the footsteps strode up and down, and the groans got very much on to the girl's nerves. At last she decided that no person who was groaning like that would ever want to order luncheon, and she had better go to the young lady. 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. I'm afraid there isn't anybody. I think you had better ask my uncle what he wants, and then if you would--I'm very sorry you should have such bad weather--but if you don't mind, would you go and buy the things?" "Yes miss."