" She went across to the big old-fashioned
kitchen range, and poured the boiling water into a little silver teapot.
Then she took the tray to her step-mother's room.
Next she went down into the drawing-room--she always "did" that room
while Nanna laid the breakfast with the help of the village girl who,
although she was supposed to come in at seven, very seldom turned up
till eight. And then, while Betty was carefully dusting the quaint,
old-fashioned Staffordshire figures on the mantelpiece, the door opened,
and Nanna came in and shut it behind her. "There isn't any wine," she
began mysteriously. "Gentlemen do like a little drop of wine after their
dinner."
"I think what father and Jack can do without, Mr. Radmore can do without,
too," said Betty. For the first time her colour heightened. "In any case,
I don't see how we can get anything fit to drink by this evening."
"I was thinking, Miss Betty, that you might borrow a bottle of port wine
at Rose Cottage."
"I don't think I can do that," said Betty decidedly, "you see, Miss
Pendarth's port is very good port, and we could never give her back a
bottle of the same quality."
And then, as Nanna sidled towards the door, the old woman suddenly
remarked, a little irrelevantly:--"I suppose you've told Miss Pendarth
that Mr.
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