Putting the plates in the rack she heard once more Sanders at it again ("He don’t give Bonamy a chance,” she thought).  “Objective something,” said Bonamy; and “common ground” and something else—­all very long words, she noted.  “Book learning does it,” she thought to herself, and, as she thrust her arms into her jacket, heard something—­might be the little table by the fire—­fall; and then stamp, stamp, stamp—­as if they were having at each other—­round the room, making the plates dance.

“To-morrow’s breakfast, sir,” she said, opening the door; and there were Sanders and Bonamy like two bulls of Bashan driving each other up and down, making such a racket, and all them chairs in the way.  They never noticed her.  She felt motherly towards them.  “Your breakfast, sir,” she said, as they came near.  And Bonamy, all his hair touzled and his tie flying, broke off, and pushed Sanders into the arm-chair, and said Mr. Sanders had smashed the coffee-pot and he was teaching Mr. Sanders—­

Sure enough, the coffee-pot lay broken on the hearthrug.

“Any day this week except Thursday,” wrote Miss Perry, and this was not the first invitation by any means.  Were all Miss Perry’s weeks blank with the exception of Thursday, and was her only desire to see her old friend’s son?  Time is issued to spinster ladies of wealth in long white ribbons.  These they wind round and round, round and round, assisted by five female servants, a butler, a fine Mexican parrot, regular meals, Mudie’s library, and friends dropping in.  A little hurt she was already that Jacob had not called.

“Your mother,” she said, “is one of my oldest friends.”

Miss Rosseter, who was sitting by the fire, holding the Spectator between her cheek and the blaze, refused to have a fire screen, but finally accepted one.  The weather was then discussed, for in deference to Parkes, who was opening little tables, graver matters were postponed.  Miss Rosseter drew Jacob’s attention to the beauty of the cabinet.

“So wonderfully clever in picking things up,” she said.  Miss Perry had found it in Yorkshire.  The North of England was discussed.  When Jacob spoke they both listened.  Miss Perry was bethinking her of something suitable and manly to say when the door opened and Mr. Benson was announced.  Now there were four people sitting in that room.  Miss Perry aged 66; Miss Rosseter 42; Mr. Benson 38; and Jacob 25.

“My old friend looks as well as ever,” said Mr. Benson, tapping the bars of the parrot’s cage; Miss Rosseter simultaneously praised the tea; Jacob handed the wrong plates; and Miss Perry signified her desire to approach more closely.  “Your brothers,” she began vaguely.

“Archer and John,” Jacob supplied her.  Then to her pleasure she recovered Rebecca’s name; and how one day “when you were all little boys, playing in the drawing-room—­”

“But Miss Perry has the kettle-holder,” said Miss Rosseter, and indeed Miss Perry was clasping it to her breast. (Had she, then, loved Jacob’s father?)