Explore "The Nether Millstone" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. George Dashwood was of opinion that things at the Hall were not as they used to be in the old days. In the first place he had been compelled to walk up from the station after ordering a trap to meet him on his return from Longtown, and now he could see no sign of dinner. He had come downstairs in a temper, and had looked into the dining-room as he passed.
It was eight o'clock to the moment; there was no sign of dinner. The banks of ferns and the great silver bowls of roses were there, but nothing else. Dashwood forgot for the moment that he was no longer master of the house, and rang the bell. Slight came in presently. He was still wearing his morning coat.