It's a lovely egg really, such a
beautiful colour, but"--she laughed apologetically--"you know how it is
with eggs--either you can eat them or you can't. I always have to eat
eggs with my head turned away so to speak. There is something about the
yolk so--so----" Her voice trailed away under Miss Bathgate's stolid,
unsmiling gaze.

There was no point in going on being arch about eggs to a person who so
obviously regarded one as a poor creature. But a stand must be taken.

"Er--Miss Bathgate----" Pamela began.

There was no answer from Bella, who was putting the dishes on a tray.
Had she addressed her rightly?

"You _are_ Miss Bathgate, aren't you?"

"Ou ay," said Bella. "I'm no' mairret nor naething o' that kind."

"I see. Well, Miss Bathgate, I wonder if you would mind if Mawson--my
maid, you know--carried away some of those ornaments and photographs to
a safe place? It would be such a pity if we broke any of them, for, of
course, you must value them greatly. These vases now, with the pretty
grasses, it would be dreadful if anything happened to them, for I'm sure
we could never, never replace them."

"Uch ay," Bella interrupted. "I got them at the pig-cairt in exchange
for some rags. He's plenty mair o' the same kind."

"Oh, really," Pamela said helplessly. "The fact is, a few things of my
own will be arriving in a day or two--a cushion or two and that sort of
thing--to make me feel at home, you know, so if you would very kindly
let us make room for them, I should be so much obliged."

Bella Bathgate looked round the grim chamber that was to her as the
apple of her eye, and sighed for the vagaries of "the gentry."

"Aweel," she said, "I'll pit them in a kist until ye gang awa'. I've
never had lodgers afore." And as she carried out the tray there was a
baleful gleam in her eye as if she were vowing to herself that she would
never have them again.

Pamela gave a gasp of relief when the door closed behind the ungracious
back of her landlady, and started when it opened again, but this time it
was only Mawson.

She hailed her. "Mawson, we must get something done to this room. Lift
all these vases and photographs carefully away. Miss Bathgate says she
will put them somewhere else in the meantime. And we'll wire to
Grosvenor Street for some cushions and rugs--this is too hopeless. Are
you quite comfortable Mawson?"

"Yes, Miss. I 'ave me meals in the kitchen, Miss, for Miss Bathgate
don't want to keep another