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they all looked startled at his audacity. Then just as Grace was about to reply Jane broke in, her words tumbling over themselves, "You ... oh, Stephen, I don't know how you can say such things. Father did like Andrew, he did. As for George' she glared at Beatrice now 'if I wanted him to meet anyone it would be Andrew, and if he felt he was above meeting Andrew he wouldn't be the one for me ... so there. You are nothing but a lot of silly ... silly snobs. And snob isn't the right word either.... Oh, I don't know...."
    "Be quiet, Jane, it's all right." Grace's hand was on her arm. Then she turned and looked at Stephen and her voice was very low, even gentle, as she said, "What you seem to forget, what everybody seems to forget, is that I am still mistress of this house, and if I want Andrew to dinner I'll have him to dinner. Andrew is ... Her voice was trembling now. Her lids began to blink rapidly as she looked from one to the other, and when no-one spoke she turned away and made for the door. Having passed into the hall and closed the door behind her, she held on to the knob for some seconds, for her legs were shaking so that she felt she would drop, and to her dismay the sickly feeling of dread and anxiety was blocking her chest once more.
    As she made her way to the foot of the staircase her walk became slightly erratic and she looked down at her legs. As she did so the expression on her face changed;
    the look of deep pain and anxiety seeping from her eyes was replaced by one of desperate urgency, and after supporting herself for a moment with a hand on the balustrade she. did not mount the stairs to her room but crossed the hall towards the dining-room. It was imperative that she followed up the stand she had made in the drawing-room with a test. She would open the hatch to the kitchen and say to Peggy, "Is everything going well, Peggy?" That alone would be a strengthener of courage.
    When she opened the dining-room door Peggy Mather was bending over the table moving a cruet to a new position. Grace had spent most of the afternoon setting the table and now the voice of courage said, "Tell her to put that back where it was," but she wasn't brave enough to comply. And she walked into the room as if she hadn't noticed what Peggy was doing. Then she went and stood some way behind her, for it was easier to address her from behind.
    The woman at the table was broad hipped, and as she bent forward her buttocks pressed themselves out of her print skirt bringing it up into a peak showing a pair of hard, fleshy calves. Even her bulk was intimidating. She had always stood a little in awe of this woman right from the very start, yet it was nothing compared with the feeling Peggy Mather had aroused in her these past few weeks.
    She tried to speak now as mistress to maid, as if there was nothing more between them than that, but her voice failed her as she said, "Is everything going all right, Peggy?"
    "Why shouldn't it be? It isn't the first time we've had a dinner at seven instead of one ... it's all the same thing."
    Grace watched the broad back straighten up. She watched her walk with her heavy step towards the service door, and when it had swung to behind her she sat down. Then, joining her hands together, she did a very unusual thing:
    she began to pray.
    Less than half an hour later Stephen and Beatrice came to her room.
    Stephen came first. He looked slightly crestfallen and more youthful than she had seen him for some time, and when he apologised for his behaviour, saying, "I'm sorry, nothing like that will ever happen again', she wanted not only to put out her hands to him but to take him in her arms. Yet all she did was to look at him kindly and say, " It's all right, I understand," and she did understand. She understood a little how he was feeling at this moment of contrition, for was he not her son.
    When a few minutes later Beatrice came into the room and exclaimed,
    "Oh, Mammy, I do like you in that grey, it looks super,