however, was a man, and would be sure to want a big
bath. Having it, Scrap calculated, would keep him busy for a long
while. Then he would unpack, and then, after his night in the train,
he would probably sleep till the evening. So would he be provided for
the whole of that day, and not be let loose on them till dinner.

Therefore Scrap came to the conclusion she would be quite safe in
the garden that day, and got up as usual after breakfast, and dawdled
as usual through her dressing, listening with a slight cocked ear to
the sounds of Mr. Wilkins's arrival, of his luggage being carried into
Lotty's room on the other side of the landing, of his educated voice as
he inquired of Lotty, first, "Do I give this fellow anything?" and
immediately afterwards, "Can I have a hot bath?"--of Lotty's voice
cheerfully assuring him that he needn't give the fellow anything
because he was the gardener, and that yes, he could have a hot bath;
and soon after this the landing was filled with the familiar noises of
wood being brought, of water being brought, of feet running, of tongues
vociferating---in fact, with the preparation of the bath.

Scrap finished dressing, and then loitered at her window, waiting
till she should hear Mr. Wilkins go into the bathroom. When he was
safely there she would slip out and settle herself in her garden and
resume her inquiries into the probable meaning of her life. She was
getting on with her inquiries. She dozed much less frequently, and was
beginning to be inclined to agree that tawdry was the word to apply to
her past. Also she was afraid that her future looked black.

There--she could hear Mr. Wilkins's educated voice again.
Lotty's door had opened, and he was coming out of it asking his way to
the bathroom.

"It's where you see the crowd," Lotty's voice answered--still a
cheerful voice, Scrap was glad to notice.

His steps went along the landing, and Lotty's steps seemed to go
downstairs, and then there seemed to be a brief altercation at the
bathroom door--hardly so much an altercation as a chorus of
vociferations on one side and wordless determination, Scrap judged, to
have a bath by oneself on the other.

Mr. Wilkins knew no Italian, and the expression pericoloso left
him precisely as it found him--or would have if he had seen it, but
naturally he took no notice of the printed matter on the wall. He
firmly closed the door on the servants, resisting Domenico, who tried
to the last to