<strong>Roger</strong><br/><br/>Miriam walked in, very strikingly even by her standards, and I raised my glass with a broad grin. I finished the short prelude I was playing with a small flourish and rose to my feet, clicking my heels together and standing to attention, with the rest of my body for once, before raising my glass to her. Sipping my mojito, I sashayed over to the lady of the manor in the adjacent dining room, taking and kissing her hand with a wink and a bow.<strong>"Madame Baudelaire, have I wandered into a Miss World competition? Nice dress!"</strong><br/><br/>Rising from my bow, I inspected the table of canapés, assorted nibbles and bites, and Twiglets. I chose something rather fancy looking with a big tiger prawn on it and munched thoughtfully, dispatching the small morsel in two well savoured bites. My eyes trailed lazily around the dining room, looking out for more delightful maids, the pupils or Arnold.<br/><br/><strong>"I take it Mio's still running errands? Does the world ever offer your flogging arm a rest?"</strong>I remarked sympathetically to Miriam, not devouring her<em>too</em>much with my eyes out of politeness. Speaking of devouring, the canapé had only spiked my appetite, my other one. It had been a busy day and I could use some of the school chef's gourmet cuisine. We teachers need to keep our strength up, the rigorous education we hand out can be very labour-intensive. We don't put up with lateness either. I stepped up to the large Chinese gong by the wall and hit it hard with the fuzzy drumstick.<br/><br/>(http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3465/3222519345_54c025d2f2_o.jpg)<br/><br/>If they hadn't heard me playing piano, they'd hear that. And especially in the young ladies' case, they'd know what kind of inventive punishment to expect for letting us wait too much longer.<br/><br/>