Mr. Pyecroft’s suggestion was approved by the majority.  As an addendum to his proposal Matilda was ordered to answer the bell whenever rung; if she did not, with the knowledge abroad that she was in the house, a dangerous suspicion might be aroused.  But she should be careful when she went to the door, very careful.

Matilda was driven forth to make the purchases; Mr. Pyecroft, under Jack’s guidance, went below to forage for the anaesthetic of immediate crumbs; and Mary, tender-heartedly, remained behind to relieve the tedium of and give comfort to the invalid.  She straightened up the room a bit; urged the patient to eat, to no avail; then went out of the room for a minute, and reappeared with a book.

“I’m going to read to you, Angelica,” she announced, in a loud yet nursey voice.  “I suppose your taste in books is about the same as your sister’s.  Here’s a story I found in Matilda’s room.  It’s called ‘Wormwood.’  I’m sure you’ll like it.”

So placed that she could get all of the dim light that slanted through the tiny shuttered window, Mary began, her voice raised to meet the need of Mrs. De Peyster’s aural handicap.  Now Marie Corelli may have been the favorite novelist of a certain amiable queen, who somehow managed to continue to the age of eighty-two despite her preference.  But Mrs. De Peyster liked no fiction; and the noble platitudes, the resounding moralizings, the prodigious melodrama, the vast caverns of words of the queen’s favorite made Mrs. De Peyster writhe upon her second maid’s undentable bed.  If only she actually did possess the divine gift of defective hearing with which Mr. Pyecroft had afflicted her!  But in the same loud voice, trying to conceal her own boredom, Mary read on, on, on—­patiently on.

At length Matilda returned.  Mary closed the book with a sigh of relief, which on the instant she repressed.

“I’ll read to you for a while two or three times a day,” she promised.  “I know what a comfort it is to a sick person to hear a story she likes.”

Mrs. De Peyster did not even thank her.

CHAPTER XV

DOMESTIC SCENES

The provisions arrived; Mr. Pyecroft proved himself agreeably competent and willing in the matter of their preparation; and such as had appetites gorged themselves.  Also Mr. Pyecroft proved himself agreeably competent and willing to do his full share, and more, in the matter of cleaning up.

Later in the forenoon, Mary again called on Mrs. De Peyster.  “I hope you don’t mind a little praise directed at your family, Angelica,” she said, in the loud voice she had adopted for that unfortunate.  “At first Jack and I thought your brother Archibald was—­well—­too pompous.  You know, clergymen are often that way.  But the more we see of him, the better we like him.  He’s so pleasant, so helpful.  I hope the little trouble he spoke of being in with the police isn’t serious, for Jack and I think he’s simply splendid!”