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the hard, hawk-like features and the steely, deep-set eyes of her employer.
    As she followed Mrs. Creed along a subterranean corridor she determined to work diligently so as not to win his disapproval, but mainly she resolved to keep as much out of the way of her imperious employer as possible.
    Mrs. Creed stopped before a large cupboard that contained all sorts of cleaning materials including an electric vacuum cleaner and a floor polisher. She took out a selection of dusters and instructing Caroline to follow her with the polisher, she led her up a narrow stairway to a further corridor off which lay bedrooms. “In future,” Mrs. Creed informed her, “you’ll use the back stairs. It’s all very well for you to use the main staircase, seeing it’s your first day, but it wouldn’t do at all to make a habit of it.”
    To Caroline, lugging the heavy polisher, it seemed as if they traversed miles before Mrs. Creed stopped and pointed out where Caroline could insert the plug. “Now get on with it,” she instructed briskly, “I want to be able to give Mr. Craig a good account of you and I’ll have enough to do myself, without having to keep an eye on you.”
    As the housekeeper bustled away along the corridor, Caroline set to work with a will. She plugged into the points, as instructed, then set the machine going and with a whirring sound it sprang into life.
    She moved slowly along the corridor, making sure that each patch of floor was a gleaming golden amber before going on to the next.
    Now that she was alone she felt her spirits rise somewhat. Some time, no doubt, she decided, these rooms had been occupied. In former generations, children had scurried and laughed about these corridors, but now they lay deserted. Some of the doors were ajar and she peeped cautiously in. The rooms were enormous with high, elaborately ornamented plaster ceilings, the furniture massive and old-fashioned, but although the furniture glittered and was obviously kept spick and span under the care of the competent Mrs. Creed, there was the unmistakable air of desertion about this part of the house, the faint, musty, nostalgic scent of rooms that had been long out of use.
    But then Randall Craig was a bachelor! Perhaps some day these corridors would once again resound to children’s laughter and the sound of their feet as they scurried up and down the polished floors.
    As always when she was aware that she was completely alone Caroline began to sing softly to herself. In her thin, sweet voice she sang “Oh, that We Two were Maying. ” Effortlessly as a bird her voice rose above the hum of the polisher and Caroline began to daydream.
    She could visualize herself on the concert platform. She was wearing a beautiful pale blue dress with touches of pink at the shoulder and waist. Her hair was piled high and fell in glowing profusion upon her shoulders. The accompanist was just playing the concluding notes and now the vast audience was applauding her. She was moving forward to receive the bouquet of crimson roses and freesia handed up to her by her admiring fans: she was bowing graciously while the applause rose to a storm, but in spite of her efforts her delighted audience wouldn’t let her leave Caroline, in her dream world, had stepped forward and was curtsying again and again when a deep voice said behind her “So now that your song is ended, you’re bowing to the plaudits of the audience, no doubt! ”
    With a little squeal of alarm Caroline returned to the present. She spun around and blundered into the polisher. It slid across the corridor and struck against the wall, fell over, gave out a loud, rasping sound, then abruptly became silent.
    She looked up to find the tall figure of Randall Craig regarding her sardonically.
    “Oh, you did startle me,” she said confusedly. “I didn’t see you come along the corridor.”
    “Obviously! ” he rejoined dryly. “You were too engaged in your daydreams, acknowledging the storms of applause