fire, as a regular feature of it. Mrs.
Orgreave had a fire in the parental bedroom, when she could not
reasonably do without it, but Osmond Orgreave suffered the fire rather
than enjoyed it. As for Tom, though of a shivery disposition, he would
have dithered to death before admitting that a bedroom fire might
increase his comfort. Johnnie and Jimmie genuinely liked to be cold in
their bedroom. Alicia pined for a fire, but Mrs. Orgreave, imitating the
contrariety of fate, forbade a fire to Alicia, and one consequence of
this was that Alicia sometimes undressed in Janet's bedroom, making
afterwards a dash for the Pole. The idea of a bedroom was always, during
nearly half the year, associated with the idea of discomfort in Hilda's
mind. And now, in Janet's bedroom, impressed as she was by the
strangeness of the fact that the prime reason for hurrying at top-speed
into bed had been abolished, she yet positively could not linger, the
force of habit being too strong for her. And she was in bed, despite
efforts to dawdle, while Janet was still brushing her hair.

As she lay and watched Janet's complex unrobing, she acquired knowledge.
And once more, she found herself desiring to be like Janet--not only in
appearance, but in soft manner and tone. She thought: "How shall I dress
to-morrow afternoon?" All the operations of her brain related themselves
somehow to to-morrow afternoon. The anticipation of the visit to the
printing-works burned in her heart like a steady lamp that shone through
the brief, cloudy interests of the moment. And Edwin Clayhanger was
precisely the topic which Janet seemed, as it were, expressly to avoid.
Janet inquired concerning life at Brighton and the health of Sarah
Gailey; Janet even mentioned George Cannon; Hilda steadied her voice in
replying, though she was not really apprehensive, for Janet's questions,
like the questions of the whole family, were invariably discreet and
respectful of the individual's privacy. But of Edwin Clayhanger, whose
visit nevertheless had been recounted to her in the drawing-room on her
return, Janet said not a word.

And then, when she had extinguished the gas, and the oriental sleeve of
her silk nightgown delicately brushed Hilda's face, as she got into bed,
she remarked:

"Strange that Edwin Clayhanger should call just to-night!"

Hilda's cheek warmed.

"He asked me to go and look over their printing-works to-morrow," said
she quickly.

Janet was taken aback.