She was much older than the ordinary servant, and she had acquired a partial moral dominion over Constance, though Constance would have warmly denied it.
Hence Constance's apprehension.
However, nothing happened.
Amy apparently did not feel the snub.
"Take Spot and put him in Mr. Cyril's bedroom," Constance murmured to her, as if implying:
"Have I not already told you to do that?"
The fact was, she was afraid for Spot's life.
"Now, Fossette!" She welcomed the incoming poodle kindly; the poodle began at once to sniff.
The fat, red cabman was handling the trunks on the pavement, and Amy was upstairs.
For a moment the sisters were alone together in the parlour.
"So here I am!" exclaimed the tall, majestic woman of fifty.
And her lips twitched again as she looked round the room--so small to her.
"Yes, here you are!" Constance agreed.
She bit her lip, and, as a measure of prudence to avoid breaking down, she bustled out to the cabman.
A passing instant of emotion, like a fleck of foam on a wide and calm sea!
The cabman blundered up and downstairs with trunks, and saluted Sophia's haughty generosity, and then there was quietness.
Amy was already brewing the tea in the cave.
The prepared tea-table in front of the fire made a glittering array.
"Now, what about Fossette?" Constance voiced anxieties that had been growing on her.
"Fossette will be quite right with me," said Sophia, firmly.
They ascended to the guest's room, which drew Sophia's admiration for its prettiness.
She hurried to the window and looked out into the Square.
"Would you like a fire?" Constance asked, in a rather perfunctory manner.
For a bedroom fire, in seasons of normal health, was still regarded as absurd in the Square.
"Oh, no!" said Sophia; but with a slight failure to rebut the suggestion as utterly ridiculous.
"Sure?" Constance questioned.
"Quite, thank you," said Sophia.
"Well, I'll leave you.
I expect Amy will have tea ready directly."
She went down into the kitchen.
"Amy," she said, "as soon as we've finished tea, light a fire in Mrs. Scales's bedroom."
"In the top bedroom, m'm?"
"Yes."
Constance climbed again to her own bedroom, and shut the door.
She needed a moment to herself, in the midst of this terrific affair.
She sighed with relief as she removed her mantle.
She thought:
"At any rate we've met, and I've got her here. She's very nice. No, she isn't a bit altered." She hesitated to admit that to her Sophia was the least in the world formidable. And so she said once more:
"She's very nice.
She isn't a bit altered." And then:
"Fancy her being here!
She really is here."
With her perfect simplicity it did not occur to Constance to speculate as to what Sophia thought of her.
Sophia was downstairs first, and Constance found her looking at the blank wall beyond the door leading to the kitchen steps.
"So this is where you had it bricked up?" said Sophia.
"Yes," said Constance. "That's the place."
"It makes me feel like people feel when they have tickling in a limb that's been cut off!" said Sophia.
"Oh, Sophia!"
The tea received a great deal of praise from Sophia, but neither of them ate much.
Constance found that Sophia was like herself: she had to be particular about her food.