But Pamela scarcely heard a word she said. She had stopped just inside the threshold, and stood gaping.
'Is something wrong, Miss? You look like you've seen a ghost.'
A ghost, no, but what she beheld was so much like her old recurring dream that for a moment she felt she had forgotten to breathe. On the far wall was a leaded-glass door which opened onto a balcony that faced northeast. To her left, just past the overstuffed bed was a walk-in closet. To the right was a door which led to a shared bathroom. The furniture stood as she remembered it- beyond her overpowering sense of déjà vu, it occurred to her that she could only have dreamt that she would ever have the use of anything like the dark mahogany dressing table, the cherry wood cedar chest, the matching mahogany dresser, the magnificent roll-top oak desk and Tiffany lamps and-
'Perhaps you'd better lie down for a moment,' Susan said, taking her arm. 'You look like you're about to faint.'
'No,' Pamela muttered, thinking of the sinister silhouette of a man at the door of the balcony, who had come to her, had come for her. 'Thanks, but I'll be okay. It's just that the trip, and the change, have taken a lot out of me. It'll pass.'
'If you say so,' Mrs. Pascoe said, looking anything but convinced. 'Well, if you're sure you're up to it, take off your coat and follow me.'
They stopped at a closet before reaching the kitchen. In it were uniforms, linen and other items used by the mansion's staff. Mrs. Pascoe selected a couple of uniforms for Pamela to try on and took her to the kitchen. At the sight of it Pamela sighed with relief. Unlike the rest of the mansion, which looked as though it were made to be seen rather than touched, the kitchen was as battered and utilitarian as that in the Catholic Mission she had worked in.
'And through here,' said Mrs. Pascoe, leading her through the kitchen to the back door, 'is the staff dining room.' The long, narrow room was an obvious add-on built of heavy, crude wooden planks; it was a drafty, pleasantly musty and cool room, heated by a wood-stove. The room was dominated by an appropriately crude but sturdy-looking wooden table which looked as though it could seat at least twenty, or at need serve as a heavy workbench. Around the perimeter of the room were wooden benches, and at various points, between windows and to either side of the back door, were mounted sturdy clothes' hooks from which an assortment of outdoor clothing hung. Through the tiny panes of each window Pamela could see the fields and farm buildings beyond. She found that she instinctively liked this room, and it must have shown because Mrs. Pascoe said, 'It's not much, but we like it just the way it is. Young Mr. Dewhurst- Theo, that is- wanted to tear it down and build something more modern. You should have seen the look on his face when we started squawking!' Her laughter prompted Pamela to smile, and to feel good about herself for no apparent reason. 'All right, then,' she told Pamela, 'hurry upstairs and change into one your new uniforms. It's about time we set ourselves to making supper. An extra pair of hands is always welcome. There'll be company coming tonight, six or seven guests, with the seventh an open question. Which, as it turns out, works out perfectly because you'll be able to meet all the household staff in one go. That includes the outdoor staff who mind the animals. I hope you're not offended by the smell of sweat and muddy boots- I'm afraid we're rather a rustic lot around here.'