Fourteen
There was a murmur¹ of voices from the big drawing room. I hesitated butdid not go in. I wandered down the passage and, led by some impulse, Ipushed open a baize door. The passage beyond was dark, but suddenly adoor opened showing a big lighted kitchen. In the doorway² stood an oldwoman—a rather bulky old woman. She had a very clean white apron³ tiedround her ample waist and the moment I saw her I knew that everythingwas all right. It is the feeling that a good Nannie can always give you. I amthirty-five, but I felt just like a reassured⁴ little boy of four.
As far as I knew, Nannie had never seen me, but she said at once:
“It’s Mr. Charles, isn’t it? Come into the kitchen and let me give you acup of tea.”
It was a big happy-feeling kitchen. I sat down by the centre table andNannie brought me a cup of tea and two sweet biscuits on a plate. I feltmore than ever that I was in the nursery again. Everything was all right—and the terrors of the dark and the unknown were no more with me.
“Miss Sophia will be glad you’ve come,” said Nannie. “She’s been gettingrather overexcited.” She added disapprovingly⁶: “They’re all overexcited.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Where’s Josephine? She came in with me.”
Nannie made a disapproving⁵ clacking noise with her tongue.
“Listening at doors and writing down things in that silly little book shecarries about with her,” she said. “She ought to have gone to school andhad children of her own age to play with. I’ve said so to Miss Edith and sheagrees—but the master would have it that she was best here in her home.”
“I suppose he’s very fond of her,” I said.
“He was, sir. He was fond of them all.”
I looked slightly astonished, wondering why Philip’s affection for his off-spring was put so definitely in the past. Nannie saw my expression andflushing slightly, she said:
“When I said the master, it was old Mr. Leonides I meant.”

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