I only work at the end of the term.

There isn't much to do." Eugene's perplexity was little decreased, and a tinkle of the door-bell afforded him obvious relief.

"It's my foreman," he said, looking at his watch.

"I'll take him out in the yard to talk.

This is no place for a foreman." And he departed, leaving the "living room" to Lucy and George.
It was a pretty room, white panelled and blue curtained--and no place for a foreman, as Eugene said.