Jones stood respectfully behind her. He thought she ate her food quite daintily.
‘Mrs Gandell has gone off to do her duty, Miss Vaughan,’ he said. ‘And as usual,’ he continued, ‘with sails aloft, and a fine wind blowing, and I call that optimism with a star at its head, Miss.’ He bent lower, closer still, and in conspiratorial whispers went on. ‘She is always doing her duty, in the rooms and out of the rooms, counting the halfpence in the basement, counting the crumbs that are left, and watching and listening, and watching those that watch, and listening again, and wondering, and hoping all the time. Think of that, Miss Vaughan. Ah! Poor Mrs Gandell! How she feels the weight of the world on her back, yes indeed, and what a weight it is, but I expect you know that, dear.’
Miss Vaughan frowned, and Jones cringed. ‘So sorry,’ he said. ‘But Iesu mawr! She is as sharp as a razor blade, Miss Vaughan, and cuts time to shreds.’
Suddenly there was a loud thud in the hall, followed by Prothero roaring, ‘Papers, Jones,’ and he rushed off to collect them, and the mail. He handed one to Prothero, saying, ‘And no mail again for Mr Prothero. Dear dear!’
Prothero immediately vanished behind the spread pages, though not before calling across the room, ‘And how is Miss Vaughan today?’
‘Quite well, thank you,’ Miss Vaughan replied, and nibbled her toast.
Prothero’s head appeared over the paper.
‘I’ve an uncle over at Derwen that’s almost too well,’ and with a loud chortle vanished behind the paper.
‘More toast, Mr Jones.’
‘Certainly Miss Vaughan.’
Jones preened, and Jones was fulsome.
‘Thank you.’
‘Will there be anything else, Miss?’
‘Nothing really,’ and Miss Vaughan gave him her first smile of the day.
He grinned from ear to ear. ‘There should always be something,’ he said. ‘Tell me, do you like your room?’
‘It is very nice,’ she replied, paused, then asked, ‘and you, Mr Jones, you like being here?’
Jones came erect, threw out his chest, clapped hands.
‘Like it? Me? I just love that, Miss Vaughan. Course I do. I’m the fish-flesh man that likes everything,’ and slowly rocked on his heels.
‘Sometimes, Mr Jones, you are very funny.’
Miss Vaughan began folding her napkin.
‘You astound me, Miss. Why, everything’s funny. Didn’t you know that?’
‘You may be right.’
‘I am. And how is Miss Vaughan liking Garthmeilo?’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Good. Good.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And everything as you wish, I hope,’ Jones said.
‘Not too close, please,’ Miss Vaughan said, preparing to rise, and Jones drew back.
‘I did hear,’ he began slowly, groping, ‘I did hear that you came from a place called Melin. I remember Melin myself, especially that row of six cottages beside the post office, always looked like a row of badger’s teeth to me,’ and the Decent Hotel echoed with Jones’s first outright laugh of the day.
He watched her examine minutely the entire contents of her handbag, and later a leisurely powdering of her nose. Abruptly she said, between dabs, ‘I hope Mrs Gandell will…’ but Jones cut in.
‘She will,’ he said, grinning.
‘You don’t even know what I was going to say, Mr Jones,’ and Miss Vaughan closed her handbag and slowly dusted herself down.
‘What I don’t know, Miss Vaughan, always excites me more than what I do. Yes indeed.’
Miss Vaughan pushed in her chair, then walked slowly towards the hall.
‘Off into the great big world,’ he said, following slowly after.
Miss Vaughan stopped dead, turned, and glared at Jones. ‘What world?’
Jones didn’t know, but he rushed forward and opened the door for her. He banged it loudly behind her.
‘Jones!’
When the call came he jumped, swung round, and there was Mrs Gandell sailing across the room.
‘Get Mr Prothero’s luggage,’ she said, and rushed off to her little office, tapping Prothero as she passed. ‘Come along, Mr Prothero,’ and he followed her in.
