"There is no change whatever, my dear. Now, do, do lie down again and keep warm. There is nothing that you can do." Char complied rather sullenly. She was still feeling ill, and violently resented her own involuntary physical relief at this enforced inaction. "What on earth will happen at the office?" she muttered. "Have you told them that I'm not coming?" "I telephoned myself," said Miss Bruce proudly. "What did you say?" "That you were in bed yourself with influenza, and quite unfit to move; and also that we are in great anxiety about Sir Piers." "That's the only reason I can't go in to Questerham as usual," said Char coldly. "It was quite unnecessary to mention my having influenza, Brucey. That would never constitute a reason for my staying away from my work." Miss Bruce looked very much crestfallen. "You'd better telephone again, please, a little later on, with a message from me. Say that I must be rung up without fail when my secretary has gone through the letters, and I'll come to the telephone and speak to her myself." "The draughty hall!" moaned Miss Bruce, but she dared not offer any further remonstrance. Char's conversation on the telephone with Miss Jones was a lengthy one, and Miss Bruce, wandering in the background in search of imaginary currents of air, listened to her concluding observations with almost ludicrous dismay. "The departments must carry on as usual, of course, but don't hesitate to ring me up in any emergency. And no letters had better leave the office tonight--in fact, they can't, since there'll be nobody to sign them. What's that?... No, certainly not. How on earth could I depute such a responsibility to any one in the office. I shall have made some arrangement by tomorrow. Sir Piers may remain in this state indefinitely, and I can't have the whole of the work held up in this way.... That's all. Remember, nothing is to leave the office for the present. You can ring me up and report on the day's work at seven o'clock this evening. Good-bye." As Char replaced the receiver, her mother entered the hall. They had already exchanged a few words earlier in the morning, and Lady Vivian only remarked dispassionately: "I thought you were in bed. By the way, Char, I'm sorry, but we shall have to have the telephone disconnected. The house _must_ be kept quiet, and that bell can be heard quite plainly from upstairs. We can ring other people up, but they won't be able to get at us. Did you want to talk to your office?" "I _must_," said Char. "Things are absolutely hung up there; no one who can even sign a letter." "Why not? Have they all got writer's cramp all of a sudden?" Char, never very graciously disposed towards her parent's many small fleers at her official dignity, thought this one particularly ill-timed, and received it by a silence which said as much.