"Ladders?"
"Access by the roof, my lady," explained Bunter.
"What fun!" said Harriet. "I'm sure Mr. Puffett will manage it somehow. Can you find me a vase or something for these flowers, Bunter?"
"Very good, my lady."
(Nothing, thought Mr. Bunter, not even an Oxford education, would prevent a woman's mind from straying away after inessentials; but he was pleased to note that the temper was, so far, admirably controlled. A vase of water was a small price to pay for harmony.)
"Peter!" cried Harriet up the staircase. (Bunter, had he remained to witness it, might after all have conceded her an instinct for essentials.) "Peter darling! the sweep's here!"
"Oh, frabjous day! I am coming, my own, my sweep." He pattered down briskly. "What a genius you have for saying the right thing! All my
