"It'll be ready in one minute, Miss Vivian," repeated the Hostel Superintendent nervously. "I'll just go and tell the cook. I expect you must be hungry, and would rather have supper first, and then go to your room. And I'm very sorry, but we've had to leave your trunk downstairs. The stairs are rather too narrow, and the maids thought they couldn't manage it." Mrs. Bullivant went away, as though supposing that the last word had been said upon the subject of the trunk. Char thought otherwise. In a few minutes Mrs. Bullivant came back with a tray, on which stood a cup of cocoa, another one of soup, and a plate with two pieces of bread. "I thought you'd like soup, as it's such a cold night," she said triumphantly. "Now, you must tell me if you have any special likes and dislikes, won't you? I do so hope you'll be fairly comfortable here, Miss Vivian. I can't tell you how very much it's impressed all the girls, your coming here like this, for the sake of the work. I'm afraid it won't be as comfortable as Plessing." The same fear was also taking very definite possession of Char's mind. She pulled up a low cane-seated chair to the table and began the soup and bread. The cocoa, already poured out, must, it was evident, be allowed to get cool until the arrival of a next course. This proved to be a dish of scrambled eggs, and was followed by one large baked apple. Char felt thankful that she had refused her maid's solicitations to come with her. Preston confronted by such a meal, either for herself or for Miss Vivian, was quite unthinkable. Char thought of Plessing and the dinner that had awaited her there every evening, with Miss Bruce hovering anxiously round the other end of the table, with something like homesickness. Then she derided herself, half laughing. What did food matter, after all? But she decided that Miss Delmege must be told to find her rooms in Questerham as soon as possible. Then Preston could join her. This last thought was prompted by Char's strong disinclination to unpack, a duty which she realized now would, for the first time, devolve upon herself. It would not be facilitated by the prominent position given to her trunk in the hall of the Hostel. "Mrs. Bullivant," said Char, when the Superintendent returned, "my trunk must be taken up to my room, please." Her tone was unmistakably, and quite intentionally, that of the Director of the Midland Supply Depôt issuing instructions to a member of her staff. "Yes, Miss Vivian," automatically replied the little Superintendent, and added desperately: "But I'm afraid that cook and Mrs. Smith won't do it--not if they've once said they won't." Char raised her eyebrows. "If the servants don't obey your orders they must leave," she said. "But isn't there any one else?" "Perhaps two of the girls--" Mrs. Bullivant hesitated, and then left the room.