Go
she would, at once; and she would make no promises as to the exact
date of her return. But on the morning before she went she had
worked superhumanly to put things in order, whether for her typist,
or Captain Dell, or Pamela, who must at least take over the
housekeeping. The relations between her and Miss Bremerton that
morning had struck Mrs. Gaddesden as odd--certainly not cordial. But
there was nothing to complain of in Pamela's conduct. She would do
her best, she said, and sat listening while Elizabeth gave her
instructions about food cards, and servants, and the rest.
Then, when the taxi had driven away with the Dictator, what temper
on the Squire's part! Mrs. Gaddesden had very nearly gone home to
London--but for the fact of raids, and the fact that two of her most
necessary servants had joined the W.A.A.C.'s. Pamela, on the other
hand, had gone singing about the house. And really the child had
done her best. But how could any one expect her to manage her father
and the house, especially on the scraps of time left her by her
V.
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