“There,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot triumphantly. “Now the furniture can come when it likes and it will meet its match!”
From below the sound of footsteps came to the upper floor; gentle footsteps as of one who habitually wore rubber soles on his boots.
“Lord!” said Mrs. Arbuthnot. “I’d forgotten the bedside lamps. That must be Matron’s nephew.”
With one accord the ladies went to the back-bedroom window, but it was too late. The gentle footsteps were mounting the stairs. Miss Arbuthnot with her long legs could have escaped as she had done before by the coal-shed roof, but her sister-in-law, smaller and less acrobatic, would have been trapped.
“Oh, well,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot philosophically and went onto the little landing.
“Good morning, Mrs. Arbuthnot,” said the cheerful voice of Matron’s e
