Dear had her face in the soft delicious lather of the rainwater, and didn’t reply.
“But”—at this point transformation came over the black and white plaid—“I’ve only just noticed it! This is a _double_ bed! Look, dear, it’s a DOUBLE bed! And I most distinctly said in my letter it was imperative that we have two single beds; the same room would do, I said—no need to go to the expense of two rooms—but on no account a double bed. As I can’t possibly rest unless I have the bed to myself—I’m a _very_ light sleeper, whereas my friend sleeps rather heavily, not to say—er—sonorously, don’t you, dear?—I must simply insist that you have this bed taken down and two single ones put up in its place. Had I _seen_ the rooms before I engaged them I shouldn’t have taken a place with such a desolate outlook; but as we’ve had the expense of coming here, I don’t mind staying if you undertake to have the beds changed; and they must both be feather beds, too. Now, can you do this?”
“There can be no ifs; I put everything quite clearly in my letter. I’ve got a copy of it here. I wrote——”
“My dear lady, if you will sit down in that easy-chair, we’ll make everything still clearer.” She was beginning to prance around the room.
Dear, unmoved, was having a very thorough wash. So the light sleeper sank into the chair and rummaged in her hand-bag, presumably for the copy of the letter in question.
I tried to speak as lightly and soothingly as possible, for she was fairly bursting with indignation! “Now, please understand that I am delighted to give a meal to any wayfarer who, like yourself, arrives hungry and tired at my door. I’m glad for them to come in and have a rest, and even a wash and brush up, if they want it. But, when an absolute stranger, of whom I know nothing, demands my own bed, and my feather bed into the bargain, then I must protest! That feather bed is one of my most cherished possessions!”
“But you expected me?”—sitting bolt upright.
“Didn’t I write and tell you we would arrive to-day?”
“I’ve neither heard of you, nor from you, in my life before!”
“Then you _must_ be Miss Flabbers!”—with an air of finality.
At this, Dear dropped the soap with a sudden splosh into the water and looked round in frozen astonishment. (The merest wraith of it remained two hours later when Abigail emptied the water. It was a new cake, too!)