And I roamed about, feeling happily
excited, examining the drawing-room, in which nothing was changed
except the incandescent light and the picture postcards on the
mantelpiece. Then I wandered into the dining-room, a small room at
the back of the house, and here an immense surprise awaited me.
Supper was set for three!
'Well,' I reflected. 'Here's a nice state of affairs! Supper for
three, and she hasn't breathed a word!'
My mother was so clever in social matters, and especially in the
planning of delicious surprises, that I believed her capable even
of miracles. In some way or other she must have discovered the
state of my desires towards Agnes. She had written, or something.
She and Agnes had been plotting together by letter to startle me,
and perhaps telegraphing. Agnes had fibbed in telling me that she
could not possibly come to Bursley for Christmas; she had
delightfully fibbed. And my mother had got her concealed somewhere
in the house, or was momentarily expecting her. That explained the
tears, the nervousness, the rushes to the door.
I crept out of the dining-room, determined not to let my mother
know that I had secretly viewed the supper-table. And as I was
crossing the lobby to the drawing-room there was a third ring at
the door, and a third time my mother rushed out of the kitchen.
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