"Beg pardon! So sorry! I am afraid we ought not to have come," he
protested. "Agents ought to know better. They said you were giving
up the house at once and we were afraid someone might take it."
Feather held the "order to view" in her hand and snared at them
quite helplessly.
"There--are no--no servants to show it to you," she said. "If you
could wait--a few days--perhaps--"
She was so lovely and Madame Helene's filmy black creation was in
itself such an appeal, that the amiable young strangers gave up
at once.
"Oh, certainly--certainly! Do excuse us! Carson and Bayle ought
not to have--! We are so sorry. Good morning, GOOD morning," they
gave forth in discomfited sympathy and politeness, and really
quite scurried away.
Having shut the door on their retreat Feather stood shivering.
"I am going to be turned out of the house! I shall have to live
in the street!" she thought. "Where shall I keep my clothes if I
live in the street!"
Even she knew that she was thinking idiotically. Of course if
everything was taken from you and sold, you would have no clothes
at all, and wardrobes and drawers and closets would not matter.
The realization that scarcely anything in the house had been paid
for came home to her with a ghastly shock. She staggered upstairs
to the first drawing-room in which there was a silly pretty little
buhl writing table.
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