the house as
far as her ignorance would permit. It could hardly be expected that she
would be as proficient in household work as a person who had done it all
her life. She was more than willing to concede her sister-in-law's
superiority in all such matters. And she was perfectly ready to learn
all that Gertie would teach her. She had, in everything, been prepared
to meet her half-way; further she would not go. For the rest, it was her
brother's place to protect her.

Sadly Nora confessed to herself that Eddie had deteriorated in a degree
that she could not have believed possible. The first shock had come when
they sat down to supper the night of her arrival. To her amazed disgust,
they had all eaten at the same table, hired men and all. And then, to
see her brother, a gentleman by birth, breeding, and training, sitting
down at his own table in his shirt-sleeves!

Her own seat was on the right of her sister-in-law, next Reginald
Hornby. All the men except Eddie wore overalls. He had replaced his with
an old black waistcoat and a pair of grubby dark trousers. Nora wondered
sarcastically if his more formal costume was in honor of her arrival,
but quickly remembered that he had had to drive to Dyer. It was cold
outside; probably these festive garments were warmer. She found herself
speculating as to whether any of the men owned anything but outer coats.

There hadn't been much general conversation at that first meal.
Naturally, Eddie had had many questions to ask about old acquaintances
in England. Nora had given her first impressions of travel in the New
World, addressing many of her remarks to Gertie, who had been noticeably
silent. Through all her bright talk the thought would obtrude itself:
"What can Reggie Hornby think of my brother?"

She had an angry consciousness, too, that she was unwittingly furnishing
much amusement to that objectionable person opposite, whose name she
learned was Frank Taylor. She meant to speak to Eddie about him later.
He was an entirely new type to her. His fellow servant, whose name was
Trotter, on the contrary, could be seen about London any day, an
ordinary, ignorant Cockney. He, at least, had the merit of seeming to
know his place and how to conduct himself in the presence of his
betters, and except when asking for more syrup, of which he seemed
inordinately fond, kept discreetly silent.

But the idea that there was any difference in their stations was not
betrayed in Taylor's look