"I know what you mean exactly, dear," Miss Marsh assured her. "And of course she does work one fearfully hard. I sometimes think I shall have to leave." "She works every bit as hard as we do--harder. I suppose you'll admit that, Gracie?" "Oh yes." "Don't go on like that," protested Miss Marsh, presumably with reference to some indefinable quality detected by her in these two simple monosyllables. "I only meant," said Grace Jones diffidently, "that it might really be better if she didn't do quite so much. If she could have her luncheon regularly, for instance." "My dear, she simply hasn't the time." "She could make it." "The work comes before everything with Miss Vivian. I mean, really it does," said Miss Plumtree solemnly. Miss Jones finished off the end of a thick plait of dark hair with a neat blue bow, and said nothing. "I suppose even you'll admit that, Gracie?" Grace gave a sudden little laugh, and said in the midst of it: "Really, I'm not sure." "My dear girl, what on earth do you mean?" "I think I mean that I don't feel certain Miss Vivian would work quite so hard or keep such very strenuous hours if she lived on a desert island, for instance." The other two exchanged glances. "Dotty, isn't she?" "Mad as a hatter, I should imagine." "Perhaps you'll explain what sort of war-work people _do_ on desert islands?" "That isn't what I mean, quite," Gracie explained. "My idea is that perhaps Miss Vivian does _partly_ work so very hard because there are so many people looking on. If she was on a desert isle she might--find time for luncheon." "My dear girl, you're ab-solutely raving, in my opinion," said Miss Plumtree with simple directness. "There! That's my kettle." She dashed out of the room, as a hissing sound betrayed that her kettle had overboiled on to the gas-ring, as it invariably did. After the rescue had been effected she looked in again and said: "I suppose you wouldn't let me come in for some of your tea tomorrow morning, would you, dear? Ours is absolutely finished, and that ass Henderson forgot to get any more." "Rather," said Miss Marsh cordially. "This extraordinary girl doesn't take any, so you can have the second cup." "Thanks most awfully. I can do without most things, but I can't do without my tea. Good-night, girls." It was an accepted fact all through the Hostel that, although one could do without most things, one could not do without one's tea.