142 ANGEL PAVEMENT

they would begin arguing, shouting, quarrelling again.
Mrs. Dersingham, very tired now and with a hundred
little nerves screaming to be taken out of all this and put
to bed, would have liked to have banged their silly heads
together.

Cook came in, breathing heavily and disapprovincrly
and gave them their omelette. There was not a single
movement she made during the whole time she was in
the room that did not announce, quite plainly, that she
was the cook, that the kitchen was her place, that she
did not pretend to be able to wait at table and that if
they did not like it, they could lump it. Her heavy
breathing went further, pointing out that when she did
condescend to wait at table, she expected to find a better
company than this seated round it. Even Mrs. Pearson
had apparently lost favour, for she had her plate shoved
contemptuously in front of her, like the rest. Real ladies,
that plate said, don't rush away and cook omelettes for
other people's dinner-tables. "P'raps you'll ring when
you want the next," the cook wheezed, and then slowly,
scornfully, took her departure.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Mrs. Dersingham,"
said Major Trape, "this omelette's awf ly good, awf ly
good. And there's nothing I like better than a jolly
good omelette."

A voice from Mrs. Trape's direction said that it agreed
with him. D

^ "They're right there/' said Mr. Golspie to Mrs. Dcr-
smgham, as if the Trapes were not often right "It's as
good an omelette as I've had for months and months
and that's saying something, because I've been in places
where they can make omelettes. They can't make 'em
here m England." And he said this in such a way as to