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Page 48
"Tell me," he said. "Tell me all you know. I feel as though I had
escaped a frightful disaster."
"You probably have. I don't suppose there is anything so terrible
as a snub from a butler."
"If there is I can't think of it. When I was at Oxford I used to
go and stay with a friend of mine who had a butler that looked
like a Roman emperor in swallowtails. He terrified me. I used to
grovel to the man. Please give me all the pointers you can."
"Well, as Mr. Peters' valet, I suppose you will be rather a big
man."
"I shan't feel it."
"However large the house party is, Mr. Peters is sure to be the
principal guest; so your standing will be correspondingly
magnificent. You come after the butler, the housekeeper, the
groom of the chambers, Lord Emsworth's valet, Lady Ann
Warblington's lady's maid--"
"Who is she?"
"Lady Ann? Lord Emsworth's sister. She has lived with him since
his wife died. What was I saying? Oh, yes! After them come the
honorable Frederick Threepwood's valet and myself--and then you."
"I'm not so high up then, after all?"
"Yes, you are. There's a whole crowd who come after you. It all
depends on how many other guests there are besides Mr. Peters."
"I suppose I charge in at the head of a drove of housemaids and
scullery maids?"
"My dear Mr. Marson, if a housemaid or a scullery maid tried to
get into the steward's room and have her meals with us, she would
be--"
"Rebuked by the butler?"
"Lynched, I should think. Kitchen maids and scullery maids eat in
the kitchen. Chauffeurs, footmen, under-butler, pantry boys, hall
boy, odd man and steward's-room footman take their meals in the
servants' hall, waited on by the hall boy. The stillroom maids
have breakfast and tea in the stillroom, and dinner and supper in
the hall. The housemaids and nursery maids have breakfast and tea
in the housemaid's sitting-room, and dinner and supper in the
hall. The head housemaid ranks next to the head stillroom maid.
The laundry maids have a place of their own near the laundry, and
the head laundry maid ranks above the head housemaid. The chef
has his meals in a room of his own near the kitchen. Is there
anything else I can tell you, Mr. Marson?"
Ashe was staring at her with vacant eyes. He shook his head
dumbly.
"We stop at Swindon in half an hour," said Joan softly. "Don't
you think you would be wise to get out there and go straight back
to London, Mr. Marson? Think of all you would avoid!"
Ashe found speech.
"It's a nightmare!"
"You would be far happier in Arundell Street. Why don't you get
out at Swindon and go back?"
Ashe shook his head.
"I can't. There's--there's a reason."
Joan picked up her magazine again. Hostility had come out from
the corner into which she had tucked it away and was once more
filling her mind. She knew it was illogical, but she could not
help it. For a moment, during her revelations of servants'
etiquette, she had allowed herself to hope that she had
frightened her rival out of the field, and the disappointment
made her feel irritable. She buried herself in a short story, and
countered Ashe's attempts at renewing the conversation with cold
monosyllables, until he ceased his efforts and fell into a moody
silence.
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