Nothing in particular

Observe the scene in the big house at the end of the lane. The master of the house paces the floor of a palacious front parlour. His elegant wife sits motionless considering the issues of the day. Wildfowl for dinner, perhaps. I must talk to Jeeves about tomorrow's shoot.

"Winifred", says the master. "Throw another peasant on the fire, I'm cold".

Down in the basement it's hard to tell if they have hired a job lot from "You Rang M'Lord" or "Upstairs Downstairs". Nothing really changes. Jeeves polishes his black leather boots in his inimitable way. Mrs Fridgid, cold as ever, just cannot make up her mind whether to boil or steam the peas for dinner.

Nothing really changes.

If you send in the next part of the story, I will publish it. Just use your imagination.