His aunt stood there, a gentle smile on her face. “Won’t you come down for tea, Blackie? Your uncle was asking where you were when he got in. And I’ve a lovely bite of tea for you both today. The pork pies you like from the bakery and a sponge cake with cream.”

Blackie smiled at her; his aunt was so kind, and he knew it would upset her if he missed his meal. He nodded and went out onto the landing. “I’ll just wash my hands and come right down, sure and I will, Aunt Eileen.”

Although he expected his uncle to still be angry with him, Blackie knew he had to put up a warm front and take the flak if necessary. But Patrick greeted him in a kindly voice when he went into the parlor a few minutes later.

As usual, Patrick Kennedy was standing in front of the fire, warming his back. Even though it was summer, it had turned cool in the late afternoon, and Eileen had put a match to the fire. Blackie knew she always felt cold.

“Mrs. Wilson asked me if you had finished your plans for her conservatory when I took Moira there,” Patrick announced. “I told her I thought you had, almost anyway. So what stage are they at?”

“They’re more or less ready. I was hoping ter show them ter her this week. After ye’ve given me the go-ahead, Uncle Pat.”

“I’m impressed, lad, and I know you’ve worked hard on them. You can show them to me whenever you’re ready.”

Blackie nodded and went into the kitchen to help his aunt bring the food to the table, knowing he was back in his uncle’s good books. But he would be careful in the future not to ask people too many questions about themselves and to watch his manners in general. His uncle was a stickler about that, after all his years in the military, and expected no less from his nephew. Blackie knew that Pat held manners, politeness and courtesy to be the way you got on in life.

Moira Aherne and Mrs. Wilson took to each other at once. Moira, observant, quick-witted and highly intelligent, knew at once that Patrick Kennedy had chosen just the right employer for her. And without having met her until today. Good luck, perhaps.

The house in the Towers was a mansion, but small, and it had been well kept. Mrs. Wilson, who looked to be in her early fifties, was attractive, well dressed, and had a pleasant demeanor, welcomed her warmly.

Almost at once, Patrick Kennedy had explained that Moira was happy to be employed as a parlormaid, but that she had actually been trained to be a lady’s maid.