Mistress of the House by Eleanor Farnes

that you are being very useful.” She sat down and looked carefully at Laurie. “My sister tells me that you are working on Mr. Humphries’s new book. That must be very interesting for you.”
    “It is,” said Laurie. “Awfully interesting.”
    “Such a charming man. He doesn’t parade his cleverness. Always has time for the little courtesies of life.” Max, standing beside his aunt’s chair, made a hideous grimace at Laurie, so that she found it difficult not to laugh. He implied that his aunt found such little courtesies missing at the farm.
    “Max, my dear, do sit down. You have to walk about so much all day and it must be terribly tiring for you. Do sit down and rest your foot.”
    Max flushed, looked a little angry and walked away towards the window.
    “No,” he said curtly. “It isn’t tiring for me, thank you.”
    Jess came in to the kitchen.
    “Well,” said Aunt Hilda pleasantly, “now we are all here, and can make a start.” She rose majestically and walked to the table. “Where are all you young people sitting? I think I shall sit here, if nobody minds.” She sat there, with her back to the fire and they gathered round the table.
    Later they all went into the sitting room. It was comfortable and attractive, but Laurie missed the kitchen fire. She wondered if Aunt Hilda’s presence always meant a fire in the sitting room, and found out later that it did. Aunt Hilda severely disapproved of sitting round the kitchen fire. She understood that it was unavoidable that they should eat their meals there; that a dining room would be extravagant and unnecessary, with such a good fire there; but she could not reconcile herself to sitting there in the evening.
    Laurie, however, found her pleasant, if a little condescending. She found, too, that Aunt Hilda intended to breakfast every morning with herself and Max. There was no need for her to be up so early as to breakfast with Mrs. Lorney, Jess and Roger; nor did Mrs. Lorney like the idea of cooking yet another meal after Max and Laurie had finished. So it was inevitably settled, and Laurie did not like it. She realized how much she had enjoyed these tête-à-tête meals with Max.
    When Aunt Hilda joined them on the first morning, Mrs. Lorney vanished to do the sitting room fire—one extra job on her long list of daily jobs.
    “I must hurry,” said Laurie, “or I shall be late.”
    When she rose to go, asking Aunt Hilda to excuse her, Max went to the door with her.
    “Don’t come back late,” he said, “because we’ll start right after tea.”
    “I won’t,” she said, her smile bright for him.
    He need not have reminded her, for their little excursion had been constantly in her mind, and remained there all day.
    As tea was not quite ready when Laurie got home she went up to her room and changed her dress, putting on a gayer one than she allowed herself for working, and loosening her hair about her face. “You look very nice, Laurie,” was Mrs. Lorney’s comment when she re-entered the kitchen, and she put into words what Max was thinking. Jessica told herself dourly that clothes seemed to be all Laurie ever thought about. She said, as they sat at tea: “We’ve all seen the film, but Aunt Hilda hasn’t. Perhaps she would like to see it, too.”
    Laurie sat suddenly immobile, disliking Jessica intensely. How could they politely refuse to take her if she wanted to go? yet her whole evening’s enjoyment would be spoiled. She glanced at Jess to see a little smile on her lips. Then she glanced at Max, who shrugged his shoulders slightly.
    “Which film is this?” asked Aunt Hilda pleasantly, and, on being told about it, declared that she would very much enjoy a visit to the cinema, since the Laytons (with whom she had been staying) rather disapproved of this form of entertainment, and it would make an agreeable change. Max looked at Laurie with resignation.
    “Well,” he said, “we are starting right after tea.”
    Mrs. Lorney looked at