“As long as there’s a gentleman in a house there’s generally a sort of a prospect that things may be settled some way. At any rate there’s someone to go and speak your mind to even if you have to give up your place. But when there’s no gentleman and nothing—and nobody—respectable people with their livings to make have got to protect themselves.”

The woman had no intention of being insolent. Her simple statement that her employer’s death had left “Nothing” and “Nobody” was prompted by no consciously ironic realization of the diaphanousness of Feather. As for the rest she had been professionally trained to take care of her interests as well as to cook and the ethics of the days of her grandmother when there had been servants with actual affections had not reached her.

“Oh! go away! Go awa-ay!” Feather almost shrieked.

“I am going, ma’am. So are Edward and Emma and Louisa. It’s no use waiting and giving the month’s notice. We shouldn’t save the month’s wages and the trades-people wouldn’t feed us. We can’t stay here and starve. And it’s a time of the year when places has to be looked for. You can’t hold it against us, ma’am. It’s better for you to have us out of the house tonight—which is when our boxes will be taken away.”

Then was Feather seized with a panic. For the first time in her life she found herself facing mere common facts which rose before her like a solid wall of stone—not to be leapt, or crept under, or bored through, or slipped round. She was so overthrown and bewildered that she could not even think of any clever and rapidly constructed lie which would help her; indeed she was so aghast that she did not remember that there were such things as lies.

“Do you mean,” she cried out, “that you are all going to leave the house—that there won’t be any servants to wait on me—that there’s nothing to eat or drink—that I shall have to stay here alone—and starve!”

“We should have to starve if we stayed,” answered Cook simply. “And of course there are a few things left in the pantry and closets. And you might get in a woman by the day. You won’t starve, ma’am. You’ve got your family in Jersey. We waited because we thought Mr. and Mrs. Darrel would be sure to come.”

“My father is ill. I think he’s dying. My mother could not leave him for a moment. Perhaps he’s dead now,” Feather wailed.

“You’ve got your London friends, ma’am—”

Feather literally beat her hands together.

“My friends! Can I go to people’s houses and knock at their front door and tell them I haven’t any servants or anything to eat! Can I do that? Can I?” And she said it as if she were going crazy.

The woman had said what she had come to say as spokeswoman for the rest. It had not been pleasant but she knew she had been quite within her rights and dealt with plain facts. But she did not enjoy the prospect of seeing her little fool of a mistress raving in hysterics.

“You mustn’t let yourself go, ma’am,” she said. “You’d better lie down a bit and try to get quiet.” She hesitated a moment looking at the pretty ruin who had risen from her seat and stood trembling.

“It’s not my place of course to—make suggestions,” she said quietly. “But—had you ever thought of sending for Lord Coombe, ma’am?”

Feather actually found the torn film of her mind caught for a second by something which wore a form of reality. Cook saw that her tremor appeared to verge on steadying itself.

“Coombe,” she faintly breathed as if to herself and not to Cook.

“Coombe.”

“His lordship was very friendly with Mr. Lawless and he seemed fond of—coming to the house,” was presented as a sort of added argument.