Mr. Wilkins, however, was a man, and would be sure to want a big
bath. Having it, Scrap calculated, would keep him busy for a long
while. Then he would unpack, and then, after his night in the train,
he would probably sleep till the evening. So would he be provided for
the whole of that day, and not be let loose on them till dinner.
Therefore Scrap came to the conclusion she would be quite safe in
the garden that day, and got up as usual after breakfast, and dawdled
as usual through her dressing, listening with a slight cocked ear to
the sounds of Mr. Wilkins's arrival, of his luggage being carried into
Lotty's room on the other side of the landing, of his educated voice as
he inquired of Lotty, first, "Do I give this fellow anything?" and
immediately afterwards, "Can I have a hot bath?"--of Lotty's voice
cheerfully assuring him that he needn't give the fellow anything
because he was the gardener, and that yes, he could have a hot bath;
and soon after this the landing was filled with the familiar noises of
wood being brought, of water being brought, of feet running, of tongues
vociferating---in fact, with the preparation of the bath.
Scrap finished dressing, and then loitered at her window, waiting
till she should hear Mr. Wilkins go into the bathroom.
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