Queen Lucia

by E. F. Benson

Chapter ONE

Though the sun was hot on this July morning Mrs Lucas preferred tocover the half-mile that lay between the station and her house on herown brisk feet, and sent on her maid and her luggage in the fly thather husband had ordered to meet her. After those four hours in thetrain a short walk would be pleasant, but, though she veiled it fromher conscious mind, another motive, sub-consciously engineered, prompted her action. It would, of course, be universally known to allher friends in Riseholme that she was arriving today by the 12. 26, andat that hour the village street would be sure to be full of them. Theywould see the fly with luggage draw up at the door of The Hurst, andnobody except her maid would get out. 

That would be an interesting thing for them: it would cause one ofthose little thrills of pleasant excitement and conjectural exercisewhich supplied Riseholme with its emotional daily bread. They would allwonder what had happened to her, whether she had been taken ill at thevery last moment before leaving town and with her well-known fortitudeand consideration for the feelings of others, had sent her maid on toassure her husband that he need not be anxious. That would clearly beMrs Quantock's suggestion, for Mrs Quantock's mind, devoted as it wasnow to the study of Christian Science, and the determination to denythe existence of pain, disease and death as regards herself, was alwaysfull of the gloomiest views as regards her friends, and on theslightest excuse, pictured that they, poor blind things, were sufferingfrom false claims. Indeed, given that the fly had already arrived atThe Hurst, and that its arrival had at this moment been seen by orreported to Daisy Quantock, the chances were vastly in favour of thatlady's having already started in to give Mrs Lucas absent treatment. Very likely Georgie Pillson had also seen the anticlimax of the fly'sarrival, but he would hazard a much more probable though erroneoussolution of her absence. He would certainly guess that she had sent onher maid with her luggage to the station in order to take a seat forher, while she herself, oblivious of the passage of time, was spendingher last half hour in contemplation of the Italian masterpieces at theNational Gallery, or the Greek bronzes at the British Museum. Certainlyshe would not be at the Royal Academy, for the culture of Riseholme, led by herself, rejected as valueless all artistic efforts later thanthe death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and a great deal of what went before. Her husband with his firm grasp of the obvious, on the other hand, would be disappointingly capable even before her maid confirmed hisconjecture, of concluding that she had merely walked from the station. 

The motive, then, that made her send her cab on, though subconsciouslygenerated, soon penetrated into her consciousness, and these guesses atwhat other people would think when they saw it arrive without her, sprang from the dramatic element that formed so large a part of hermentality, and made her always take, as by right divine, the leadingpart in the histrionic entertainments with which the cultured ofRiseholme beguiled or rather strenuously occupied such moments as couldbe spared from their studies of art and literature, and their socialengagements. Indeed she did not usually stop at taking the leadingpart, but, if possible, doubled another character with it, as well asbeing stage-manager and adapter, if not designer of scenery. Whatevershe did--and really she did an incredible deal--she did it with all themight of her dramatic perception, did it in fact with such earnestnessthat she had no time to have an eye to the gallery at all, she simplycontemplated herself and her own vigorous accomplishment. When sheplayed the piano as she frequently did, (reserving an hour for practiceevery day), she cared not in the smallest degree for what anybody whopassed down the road outside her house might be thinking of theroulades that poured from her open window: she was simply EmmelineLucas, absorbed in glorious Bach or dainty Scarletti, or nobleBeethoven. The latter perhaps was her favorite composer, and many werethe evenings when with lights quenched and only the soft effulgence ofthe moon pouring in through the uncurtained windows, she sat with herprofile, cameo-like (or like perhaps to the head on a postage stamp)against the dark oak walls of her music-room, and entranced herself andher listeners, if there were people to dinner, with the exquisitepathos of the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. Devotedly as sheworshipped the Master, whose picture hung above her Steinway Grand, shecould never bring herself to believe that the two succeeding movementswere on the same sublime level as the first, and besides they "went"very much faster. But she had seriously thought, as she came down inthe train today and planned her fresh activities at home of trying tomaster them, so that she could get through their intricacies withtolerable accuracy. Until then, she would assuredly stop at the end ofthe first movement in these moonlit seances, and say that the other twowere more like morning and afternoon. Then with a sigh she would softlyshut the piano lid, and perhaps wiping a little genuine moisture fromher eyes, would turn on the electric light and taking up a book fromthe table, in which a paper-knife marked the extent of her penetration, say:

"Georgie, you must really promise me to read this life of AntoninoCaporelli the moment I have finished it. I never understood the rise ofthe Venetian School before. As I read I can smell the salt tidecreeping up over the lagoon, and see the campanile of dear Torcello. "

And Georgie would put down the tambour on which he was working his copyof an Italian cope and sigh too. 

"You are too wonderful!" he would say. "How do you find time foreverything?"

She rejoined with the apophthegm that made the rounds of Riseholme nextday. 

"My dear, it is just busy people that have time for everything. "

It might be thought that even such activities as have here beenindicated would be enough to occupy anyone so busily that he wouldpositively not have time for more, but such was far from being the casewith Mrs Lucas. Just as the painter Rubens amused himself with beingthe ambassador to the Court of St. James--a sufficient career in itselffor most busy men--so Mrs Lucas amused herself, in the intervals of herpursuit of Art for Art's sake, with being not only an ambassador but amonarch. Riseholme might perhaps according to the crude materialism ofmaps, be included in the kingdom of Great Britain, but in a more realand inward sense it formed a complete kingdom of its own, and its queenwas undoubtedly Mrs Lucas, who ruled it with a secure autocracypleasant to contemplate at a time when thrones were toppling, andimperial crowns whirling like dead leaves down the autumn winds. Theruler of Riseholme, happier than he of Russia, had no need to fear thefinger of Bolshevism writing on the wall, for there was not in thewhole of that vat which seethed so pleasantly with culture, one bubbleof revolutionary ferment. Here there was neither poverty nor discontentnor muttered menace of any upheaval: Mrs Lucas, busy and serene, workedharder than any of her subjects, and exercised an autocratic controlover a nominal democracy. 

Something of the consciousness of her sovereignty was in her mind, asshe turned the last hot corner of the road and came in sight of thevillage street that constituted her kingdom. Indeed it belonged to her, as treasure trove belongs to the Crown, for it was she who had been thefirst to begin the transformation of this remote Elizabethan villageinto the palace of culture that was now reared on the spot where tenyears ago an agricultural population had led bovine and unilluminatedlives in their cottages of grey stone or brick and timber. Before that, while her husband was amassing a fortune, comfortable in amount andrespectable in origin, at the Bar, she had merely held up a small dimlamp of culture in Onslow Gardens. But both her ambition and his hadbeen to bask and be busy in artistic realms of their own when thematerialistic needs were provided for by sound investments, and so whenthere were the requisite thousands of pounds in secure securities shehad easily persuaded him to buy three of these cottages that stoodtogether in a low two-storied block. Then, by judicious removal ofpartition-walls, she had, with the aid of a sympathetic architect, transmuted them into a most comfortable dwelling, subsequently buildingon to them a new wing, that ran at right angles at the back, which was, if anything, a shade more inexorably Elizabethan than the stem ontowhich it was grafted, for here was situated the famous smoking-parlour, with rushes on the floor, and a dresser ranged with pewter tankards, and leaded lattice-windows of glass so antique that it was practicallyimpossible to see out of them. It had a huge open fireplace framed inoak-beams with a seat on each side of the iron-backed hearth within thechimney, and a genuine spit hung over the middle of the fire. Here, though in the rest of the house she had for the sake of convenienceallowed the installation of electric light, there was no suchconcession made, and sconces on the walls held dim iron lamps, so thatonly those of the most acute vision were able to read. Even thenreading was difficult, for the book-stand on the table containednothing but a few crabbed black-letter volumes dating from not laterthan the early seventeenth century, and you had to be in a franticallyElizabethan frame of mind to be at ease there. But Mrs Lucas oftenspent some of her rare leisure moments in the smoking-parlour, playingon the virginal that stood in the window, or kippering herself in thefumes of the wood-fire as with streaming eyes she deciphered an ElzevirHorace rather late for inclusion under the rule, but an undoubtedbargain. 

The house stood at the end of the village that was nearest the station, and thus, when the panorama of her kingdom opened before her, she hadbut a few steps further to go. A yew-hedge, bought entire from aneighboring farm, and transplanted with solid lumps of earth andindignant snails around its roots, separated the small oblong of gardenfrom the road, and cast monstrous shadows of the shapes into which itwas cut, across the little lawns inside. Here, as was only right andproper, there was not a flower to be found save such as were mentionedin the plays of Shakespeare; indeed it was called Shakespeare's garden, and the bed that ran below the windows of the dining room was Ophelia'sborder, for it consisted solely of those flowers which that distraughtmaiden distributed to her friends when she should have been in alunatic asylum. Mrs Lucas often reflected how lucky it was that suchinstitutions were unknown in Elizabeth's day, or that, if known, Shakespeare artistically ignored their existence. Pansies, naturally, formed the chief decoration--though there were some very flourishingplants of rue. Mrs Lucas always wore a little bunch of them when inflower, to inspire her thoughts, and found them wonderfullyefficacious. Round the sundial, which was set in the middle of one ofthe squares of grass between which a path of broken paving-stone led tothe front door, was a circular border, now, in July, sadly vacant, forit harboured only the spring-flowers enumerated by Perdita. But thefirst day every year when Perdita's border put forth its earliestblossom was a delicious anniversary, and the news of it spread likewild-fire through Mrs Lucas's kingdom, and her subjects were veryjoyful, and came to salute the violet or daffodil, or whatever it was. 

The three cottages dexterously transformed into The Hurst, presented acharmingly irregular and picturesque front. Two were of the grey stoneof the district and the middle one, to the door of which led the pavedpath, of brick and timber; latticed windows with stone mullions gavelittle light to the room within, and certain new windows had beenadded; these could be detected by the observant eye for they had amarkedly older appearance than the rest. The front-door, similarly, seemed as if it must have been made years before the house, the factbeing that the one which Mrs Lucas had found there was too dilapidatedto be of the slightest service in keeping out wind or wet or undesiredcallers. She had therefore caused to be constructed an even older onemade from the oak-planks of a dismantled barn, and had it studded withlarge iron nails of antique pattern made by the village blacksmith. Hehad arranged some of them to look as if they spelled A. D. 1603. Overthe door hung an inn-sign, and into the space where once the sign hadswung was now inserted a lantern, in which was ensconced, well hiddenfrom view by its patinated glass sides, an electric light. This was oneof the necessary concessions to modern convenience, for no lampnurtured on oil would pierce those genuinely opaque panes, andilluminate the path to the gate. Better to have an electric light thancause your guests to plunge into Perdita's border. By the side of thisfortress-door hung a heavy iron bell-pull, ending in a mermaid. Whenfirst Mrs Lucas had that installed, it was a bell-pull in the sensethat an extremely athletic man could, if he used both hands and plantedhis feet firmly, cause it to move, so that a huge bronze bell swung inthe servants' passage and eventually gave tongue (if the athletecontinued pulling) with vibrations so sonorous that the white-wash fromthe ceiling fell down in flakes. She had therefore made anotherconcession to the frailty of the present generation and theinconveniences of having whitewash falling into salads and puddings ontheir way to the dining room, and now at the back of the mermaid's tailwas a potent little bone button, coloured black and practicallyinvisible, and thus the bell-pull had been converted into an electricbell-push. In this way visitors could make their advent known withoutviolent exertion, the mermaid lost no visible whit of her Elizabethanvirginity, and the spirit of Shakespeare wandering in his garden wouldnot notice any anachronism. He could not in fact, for there was none tonotice. 

Though Mrs Lucas's parents had bestowed the name of Emmeline on her, itwas not to be wondered at that she was always known among the moreintimate of her subjects as Lucia, pronounced, of course, in theItalian mode--La Lucia, the wife of Lucas; and it was as "Lucia mia"that her husband hailed her as he met her at the door of The Hurst. 

He had been watching for her arrival from the panes of the parlourwhile he meditated upon one of the little prose poems which formed sodelectable a contribution to the culture of Riseholme, for though, ashad been hinted, he had in practical life a firm grasp of the obvious, there were windows in his soul which looked out onto vague and etherealprospects which so far from being obvious were only dimly intelligible. In form these odes were cast in the loose rhythms of Walt Whitman, buttheir smooth suavity and their contents bore no resemblance whatever tothe productions of that barbaric bard, whose works were quite unknownin Riseholme. Already a couple of volumes of these prose-poems had beenpublished, not of course in the hard business-like establishment ofLondon, but at "Ye Sign of ye Daffodil, " on the village green, wheretype was set up by hand, and very little, but that of the best, wasprinted. The press had only been recently started at Mr Lucas'sexpense, but it had put forth a reprint of Shakespeare's sonnetsalready, as well as his own poems. They were printed in blunt type onthick yellowish paper, the edges of which seemed as if they had beencut by the forefinger of an impatient reader, so ragged and irregularwere they, and they were bound in vellum, the titles of these two slimflowers of poetry, "Flotsam" and "Jetsam, " were printed in black lettertype and the covers were further adorned with a sort of embossed sealand with antique looking tapes so that you could tie it all up with twobows when you had finished with Mr Lucas's "Flotsam" for the timebeing, and turned to untie the "Jetsam. "

Today the prose-poem of "Loneliness" had not been getting on very well, and Philip Lucas was glad to hear the click of the garden-gate, whichshowed that his loneliness was over for the present, and looking up hesaw his wife's figure waveringly presented to his eyes through thetwisted and knotty glass of the parlour window, which had taken so longto collect, but which now completely replaced the plain, commonplaceunrefracting stuff which was there before. He jumped up with analacrity remarkable in so solid and well-furnished a person, and hadthrown open the nail-studded front-door before Lucia had traversed thepath of broken paving-stones, for she had lingered for a sad moment atPerdita's empty border. 

"_Lucia mia_!" he exclaimed. "_Ben arrivata_! So you walkedfrom the station?"

"_Si, Peppino, mio caro_, " she said. "_Sta bene_?"

He kissed her and relapsed into Shakespeare's tongue, for theirItalian, though firm and perfect as far as it went, could not beconsidered as going far, and was useless for conversational purposes, unless they merely wanted to greet each other, or to know the time. Butit was interesting to talk Italian, however little way it went. 

"_Molto bene_, " said he, "and it's delightful to have you homeagain. And how was London?" he asked in the sort of tone in which hemight have enquired after the health of a poor relation, who was notlikely to recover. She smiled rather sadly. 

"Terrifically busy about nothing, " she said. "All this fortnight I havescarcely had a moment to myself. Lunches, dinners, parties of allkinds; I could not go to half the gatherings I was bidden to. Dear goodSouth Kensington! Chelsea too!"

"_Carissima_, when London does manage to catch you, it is nowonder it makes the most of you, " he said. "You mustn't blame Londonfor that. "

"No, dear, I don't. Everyone was tremendously kind and hospitable; theyall did their best. If I blame anyone, I blame myself. But I think thisRiseholme life with its finish and its exquisiteness spoils one forother places. London is like a railway-junction: it has no true life ofits own. There is no delicacy, no appreciation of fine shades. Individualism has no existence there; everyone gabbles together, gabbles and gobbles: am not I naughty? If there is a concert in aprivate house--you know my views about music and the impossibility ofhearing music at all if you are stuck in the middle of a row ofpeople--even then, the moment it is over you are whisked away to supper, or somebody wants to have a few words. There is always a crowd, there isalways food, you cannot be alone, and it is only in loneliness, asGoethe says, that your perceptions put forth their flowers. No one inLondon has time to listen: they are all thinking about who is there andwho isn't there, and what is the next thing. The exquisite present, asyou put it in one of your poems, has no existence there: it is alwaysthe feverish future. "

"Delicious phrase! I should have stolen that gem for my poor poems, ifyou had discovered it before. "

She was too much used to this incense to do more than sniff it inunconsciously, and she went on with her tremendous indictment. 

"It isn't that I find fault with London for being so busy, " she saidwith strict impartiality, "for if being busy was a crime, I am surethere are few of us here who would escape hanging. But take my lifehere, or yours for that matter. Well, mine if you like. Often and oftenI am alone from breakfast till lunch-time, but in those hours I getthrough more that is worth doing than London gets through in a day anda night. I have an hour at my music not looking about and wondering whomy neighbours are, but learning, studying, drinking in divine melody. Then I have my letters to write, and you know what that means, and Istill have time for an hour's reading so that when you come to tell melunch is ready, you will find that I have been wandering throughVenetian churches or sitting in that little dark room at Weimar, or wasit Leipsic? How would those same hours have passed in London?

"Sitting perhaps for half an hour in the Park, with dearest Aggiepointing out to me, with thrills of breathless excitement, a woman whowas in the divorce court, or a coroneted bankrupt. Then she would dragme off to some terrible private view full of the same people allstaring at and gabbling to each other, or looking at pictures that madepoor me gasp and shudder. No, I am thankful to be back at my own sweetRiseholme again. I can work and think here. "

She looked round the panelled entrance-hall with a glow of warm contentat toeing at home again that quite eclipsed the mere physical heatproduced by her walk from the station. Wherever her eyes fell, thosesharp dark eyes that resembled buttons covered with shiny Americancloth, they saw nothing that jarred, as so much in London jarred. Therewere bright brass jugs on the window sill, a bowl of pot-pourri on theblack table in the centre, an oak settee by the open fireplace, acouple of Persian rugs on the polished floor. The room had itsquaintness, too, such as she had alluded to in her memorable essay readbefore the Riseholme Literary Society, called "Humour in Furniture, "and a brass milkcan served as a receptacle for sticks and umbrellas. Equally quaint was the dish of highly realistic stone fruit that stoodbeside the pot-pourri and the furry Japanese spider that sprawled in asilk web over the window. 

Such was the fearful verisimilitude of this that Lucia's new housemaidhad once fled from her duties in the early morning, to seek theassistance of the gardener in killing it. The dish of stone fruit hadscored a similar success, for once she had said to Georgie Pillson, "Ah, my gardener has sent in some early apples and pears, won't youtake one home with you?" It was not till the weight of the pear (heswiftly selected the largest) betrayed the joke that he had any notionthat they were not real ones. But then Georgie had had his revenge, forwaiting his opportunity he had inserted a real pear among those stonyspecimens and again passing through with Lucia, he picked it out, andwith lips drawn back had snapped at it with all the force of his jaws. For the moment she had felt quite faint at the thought of his teethcrashing into fragments. .. . These humorous touches were altered fromtime to time; the spider for instance might be taken down and replacedby a china canary in a Chippendale cage, and the selection of theentrance hall for those whimsicalities was intentional, for guestsfound something to smile at, as they took off their cloaks and enteredthe drawing room with a topic on their lips, something light, somethingamusing about what they had seen. For the gong similarly was sometimessubstituted a set of bells that had once decked the collar of theleading horse in a waggoner's team somewhere in Flanders; in fact whenLucia was at home there was often a new little quaintness for quite asequence of days, and she had held out hopes to the Literary Societythat perhaps some day, when she was not so rushed, she would jot downmaterial for a sequel to her essay, or write another covering a ratherlarger field on "The Gambits of Conversation Derived from Furniture. "

On the table there was a pile of letters waiting for Mrs Lucas, foryesterday's post had not been forwarded her, for fear of its missingher--London postmen were probably very careless and untrustworthy--andshe gave a little cry of dismay as she saw the volume of hercorrespondence. 

"But I shall be very naughty, " she said "and not look at one of themtill after lunch. Take them away, _Caro_, and promise me to lockthem up till then, and not give them me however much I beg. Then I willget into the saddle again, such a dear saddle, too, and tackle them. Ishall have a stroll in the garden till the bell rings. What is it thatNietzsche says about the necessity to _mediterranizer_ yourselfevery now and then? I must _Riseholme_ myself. "

Peppino remembered the quotation, which had occurreded in a review of somework of that celebrated author, where Lucia had also seen it, and wentback, with the force of contrast to aid him, to his prose-poem of"Loneliness, " while his wife went through the smoking-parlour into thegarden, in order to soak herself once more in the cultured atmosphere. 

In this garden behind the house there was no attempt to construct aShakespearian plot, for, as she so rightly observed, Shakespeare, wholoved flowers so well, would wish her to enjoy every conceivablehorticultural treasure. But furniture played a prominent part in theplace, and there were statues and sundials and stone-seats scatteredabout with almost too profuse a hand. Mottos also were in greatevidence, and while a sundial reminded you that "_Tempus fugit, _"an enticing resting-place somewhat bewilderingly bade you to "Bide awee. " But then again the rustic seat in the pleached alley of laburnumshad carved on its back, "Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, "so that, meditating on Keats, you could bide a wee with a clearconscience. Indeed so copious was the wealth of familiar andstimulating quotations that one of her subjects had once said that tostroll in Lucia's garden was not only to enjoy her lovely flowers, butto spend a simultaneous half hour with the best authors. There was adovecote of course, but since the cats always killed the doves, MrsLucas had put up round the desecrated home several pigeons ofCopenhagen china, which were both imperishable as regards cats, andalso carried out the suggestion of humour in furniture. The humour hadattained the highest point of felicity when Peppino concealed amechanical nightingale in a bush, which sang "Jug-jug" in the mostrealistic manner when you pulled a string. Georgie had not yet seen theCopenhagen pigeons, or being rather short-sighted thought they werereal. Then, oh then, Peppino pulled the string, and for quite a longtime Georgie listened entranced to their melodious cooings. That servedhim out for his "trap" about the real pear introduced among the stonespecimens. For in spite of the rarefied atmosphere of culture atRiseholme, Riseholme knew how to "_desipere in loco_, " and itsstrenuous culture was often refreshed by these light refined touches. 

Mrs Lucas walked quickly and decisively up and down the paths as shewaited for the summons to lunch, for the activity of her mind reactedon her body, making her brisk in movement. On each side of her foreheadwere hard neat undulations of black hair that concealed the tips of herears. She had laid aside her London hat, and carried a red cottonContadina's umbrella, which threw a rosy glow onto the oval of her thinface and its colourless complexion. She bore the weight of her fortyyears extremely lightly, and but for the droop of skin at the cornersof her mouth, she might have passed as a much younger woman. Her facewas otherwise unlined and bore no trace of the ravages of emotionalliving, which both ages and softens. Certainly there was nothing softabout her, and very little of the signs of age, and it would have beenreasonable to conjecture that twenty years later she would look butlittle older than she did today. For such emotions as she was victim ofwere the sterile and ageless emotions of art; such desires as beset herwere not connected with her affections, but her ambitions. Dynasty shehad none, for she was childless, and thus her ambitions were limited tothe permanence and security of her own throne as queen of Riseholme. Shereally asked nothing more of life than the continuance of such harvestsas she had so plenteously reaped for these last ten years. As long asshe directed the life of Riseholme, took the lead in its culture andentertainment, and was the undisputed fountain-head of all itsinspirations, and from time to time refreshed her memory as to theutter inferiority of London she wanted nothing more. But to securethat she dedicated all that she had of ease, leisure and income. Being practically indefatigable the loss of ease and leisure troubledher but little and being in extremely comfortable circumstances, shehad no need to economise in her hospitalities. She might easily lookforward to enjoying an unchanging middle-aged activity, whilegenerations of youth withered round her, and no star, remotely rising, had as yet threatened to dim her unrivalled effulgence. Thoughessentially autocratic, her subjects were allowed and even encouragedto develop their own minds on their own lines, provided always thatthose lines met at the junction where she was station-master. Withregard to religion finally, it may be briefly said that she believedin God in much the same way as she believed in Australia, for she hadno doubt whatever as to the existence of either, and she went to churchon Sunday in much the same spirit as she would look at a kangaroo in theZoological Gardens, for kangaroos come from Australia. 

A low wall separated the far end of her garden from the meadow outside;beyond that lay the stream which flowed into the Avon, and it oftenseemed wonderful to her that the water which wimpled by would (unless acow happened to drink it) soon be stealing along past the church atStratford where Shakespeare lay. Peppino had written a very movinglittle prose-poem about it, for she had royally presented him with theidea, and had suggested a beautiful analogy between the earthly dewthat refreshed the grasses, and was drawn up into the fire of the Sun, and Thought the spiritual dew that refreshed the mind and thereafter, rather vaguely, was drawn up into the Full-Orbed Soul of the World. 

At that moment Lucia's eye was attracted by an apparition on the roadwhich lay adjacent to the further side of the happy stream which flowedinto the Avon. There was no mistaking the identity of the stout figureof Mrs Quantock with its short steps and its gesticulations, but why inthe name of wonder should that Christian Scientist be walking with thedraped and turbaned figure of a man with a tropical complexion and ablack beard? His robe of saffron yellow with a violently green girdlewas hitched up for ease in walking, and unless he had chocolatecoloured stockings on, Mrs Lucas saw human legs of the same shade. Nextmoment that debatable point was set at rest for she caught sight ofshort pink socks in red slippers. Even as she looked Mrs Quantock sawher (for owing to Christian Science she had recaptured the quick visionof youth) and waggled her hand and kissed it, and evidently called hercompanion's attention, for the next moment he was salaaming to her insome stately Oriental manner. There was nothing to be done for themoment except return these salutations, as she could not yell an asideto Mrs Quantock, screaming out "Who is that Indian"? for if MrsQuantock heard the Indian would hear too, but as soon as she could, sheturned back towards the house again, and when once the lilac busheswere between her and the road she walked with more than her usualspeed, in order to learn with the shortest possible delay from Peppinowho this fresh subject of hers could be. She knew there were someIndian princes in London; perhaps it was one of them, in which case itwould be necessary to read up Benares or Delhi in the Encyclopaediawithout loss of time. 

Chapter TWO

As she traversed the smoking-parlour the cheerful sounds that had oncetinkled from the collar of a Flemish horse chimed through the house, and simultaneously she became aware that there would be _macaroni augratin_ for lunch, which was very dear and remembering of Peppino. But before setting fork to her piled-up plate, she had to question him, for her mental craving for information was far keener than her appetitefor food. 

"_Caro_, who is an Indian, " she said, "whom I saw just now withDaisy Quantock? They were the other side of il piccolo Avon. "

Peppino had already begun his macaroni and must pause to shovel theoutlying strings of it into his mouth. But the haste with which he didso was sufficient guaranty for his eagerness to reply as soon as it washumanly possible to do so. 

"Indian, my dear?" he asked with the greatest interest. 

"Yes; turban and burnous and calves and slippers, " she said ratherimpatiently, for what was the good of Peppino having remained inRiseholme if he could not give her precise and certain information onlocal news when she returned. His prose-poems were all very well, butas prince-consort he had other duties of state which must not beneglected for the calls of Art. 

This slight asperity on her part seemed to sharpen his wits. 

"Really, I don't know for certain, Lucia, " he said, "for I have not setmy eyes on him. But putting two and two together, I might make aguess. "

"Two and two make four, " she said with that irony for which she wasfeared and famous. "Now for your guess. I hope it is equally accurate. "

"Well, as I told you in one of my letters, " said he, "Mrs Quantockshowed signs of being a little off with Christian Science. She had acold, and though she recited the True Statement of Being just asfrequently as before, her cold got no better. But when I saw her onTuesday last, unless it was Wednesday, no, it couldn't have beenWednesday, so it must have been Tuesday--"

"Whenever it was then, " interrupted his wife, brilliantly summing uphis indecision. 

"Yes; whenever it was, as you say, on that occasion Mrs Quantock wasvery full of some Indian philosophy which made you quite well at once. What did she call it now? Yoga! Yes, that was it!"

"And then?" asked Lucia. 

"Well, it appears you must have a teacher in Yoga or else you mayinjure yourself. You have to breathe deeply and say 'Om'----"

"Say what?"

"Om. I understand the ejaculation to be Om. And there are very curiousphysical exercises; you have to hold your ear with one hand and yourtoes with the other, and you may strain yourself unless you do itproperly. That was the general gist of it. "

"And shall we come to the Indian soon?" said Lucia. 

"_Carissima_, you have come to him already. I suggest that MrsQuantock has applied for a teacher and got him. _Ecco!_"

Mrs Lucas wore a heavily corrugated forehead at this news. Peppino hada wonderful _flair_ in explaining unusual circumstances in thelife of Riseholme and his conjectures were generally correct. But if hewas right in this instance, it struck Lucia as being a very irregularthing that anyone should have imported a mystical Indian into Riseholmewithout consulting her. It is true that she had been away, but stillthere was the medium of the post. 

"_Ecco_ indeed!" she said. "It puts me in rather a difficultposition, for I must send out my invitations to my garden-party today, and I really don't know whether I ought to be officially aware of thisman's existence or not. I can't write to Daisy Quantock and say 'Praybring your black friend Om or whatever his names proves to be, and onthe other hand, if he is the sort of person whom one would be sorry tomiss, I should not like to have passed over him. "

"After all, my dear, you have only been back in Riseholme half anhour, " said her husband. "It would have been difficult for MrsQuantock to have told you yet. "

Her face cleared. 

"Perhaps Daisy has written to me about him, " she said. "I may find afull account of it all when I open my letters. "

"Depend upon it you will. She would hardly have been so wanting inproper feeling as not to have told you. I think, too, that her visitormust only have just arrived, or I should have been sure to see himabout somewhere. "

She rose. 

"Well, we will see, " she said. "Now I shall be very busy all afternoon, but by tea-time I shall be ready to see anyone who calls. Give me myletters, _Caro_, and I will find out if Daisy has written to me. "

She turned them over as she went to her room, and there among them wasa bulky envelope addressed in Mrs Quantock's great sprawling hand, which looked at first sight so large and legible, but on closerexamination turned out to be so baffling. You had to hold it at somedistance off to make anything out of it, and look at it in an abstractedgeneral manner much as you would look at a view. Treated thus, scatteredwords began to leap into being, and when you had got a sufficiency ofthese, like glimpses of the country seen by flashes of lightning, youcould hope to get a collective idea of it all. The procedure led to themost promising results as Mrs Lucas sat with the sheets at arm's length, occasionally altering the range to try the effect of a different focus. "Benares" blinked at her, also "Brahmin"; also "highest caste";"extraordinary sanctity, " and "Guru. " And when the meaning of thislatter was ascertained from the article on "Yoga" in her Encyclopaedia, she progressed very swiftly towards a complete comprehension of theletter. 

When fully pieced together it was certainly enough to rivet her wholeattention, and make her leave unopened the rest of the correspondence, for such a prelude to adventure had seldom sounded in Riseholme. Itappeared, even as her husband had told her at lunch, that Mrs Quantockfound her cold too obstinate for all the precepts of Mrs Eddy; theTrue Statement of Being, however often repeated, only seemed to inflameit further, and one day, when confined to the house, she had taken abook "quite at random" from the shelves in her library, under, shesupposed, the influence of some interior compulsion. This then wasclearly a "leading. "

Mrs Lucas paused a moment as she pieced together these first sentences. She seemed to remember that Mrs Quantock had experienced a similarleading when first she took up Christian Science. It was a leading fromthe sight of a new church off Sloane Street that day; Mrs Quantock hadentered (she scarcely knew why) and had found herself in a TestimonyMeeting, where witness after witness declared the miraculous healingsthey had experienced. One had had a cough, another cancer, another afractured bone, but all had been cured by the blessed truths conveyedin the Gospel according to Mrs Eddy. However, her memories on thissubject were not to the point now; she burned to arrive at the story ofthe new leading. 

Well, the book that Mrs Quantock had taken down in obedience to thelast leading proved to be a little handbook of Oriental Philosophies, and it opened, "all of its own accord, " at a chapter called Yoga. Instantly she perceived, as by the unclosing of an inward eye, that Yogawas what she wanted and she instantly wrote to the address from whichthis book was issued asking for any guidance on the subject. She hadread in "Oriental Philosophies" that for the successful practice ofYoga, it was necessary to have a teacher, and did they know of anyteacher who could give her instruction? A wonderful answer came to that, for two days afterwards her maid came to her and said that an Indiangentleman would like to see her. He was ushered in, and with a profoundobeisance said: "Beloved lady, I am the teacher you asked for; I am yourGuru. Peace be to this house! Om!"

Mrs Lucas had by this time got her view of Mrs Quantock's letter intoperfect focus, and she read on without missing a word. "Is it notwonderful, dearest Lucia, " it ran, "that my desire for light shouldhave been so instantly answered? And yet my Guru tells me that italways happens so. I was sent to him, and he was sent to me, just likethat! He had been expecting some call when my letter asking forguidance came, and he started at once because he knew he was sent. Fancy! I don't even know his name, and his religion forbids him to tellit me. He is just my Guru, my guide, and he is going to be with me aslong as he knows I need him to show me the True Path. He has the sparebedroom and the little room adjoining where he meditates and doesPostures and Pranyama which is breathing. If you persevere in themunder instruction, you have perfect health and youth, and my cold isgone already. He is a Brahmin of the very highest caste, indeed castemeans nothing to him any longer, just as a Baronet and an Honourablemust seem about the same thing to the King. He comes from Benares wherehe used to meditate all day by the Ganges, and I can see for myselfthat he is a person of the most extraordinary sanctity. But he canmeditate just as well in my little room, for he says he was never inany house that had such a wonderful atmosphere. He has no money at allwhich is so beautiful of him, and looked so pained and disappointedwhen I asked him if I might not give him some. He doesn't even know howhe got here from London; he doesn't think he came by train, so perhapshe was wafted here in some astral manner. He looked so bewildered toowhen I said the word 'money, ' and evidently he had to think what itwas, because it is so long since it has meant anything to him. So if hewants anything, I have told him to go into any shop and ask that itshall be put down to me. He has often been without food or sleep fordays together when he is meditating. Just think!

"Shall I bring him to see you, or will you come here? He wants to meetyou, because he feels you have a beautiful soul and may help him inthat way, as well as his helping you. I am helping him too he says, which seems more wonderful than I can believe. Send me a line as soonas you get back. _Tante salute_!

 "Your own, "DAISY. "

The voluminous sheets had taken long in reading and Mrs Lucas foldedthem up slowly and thoughtfully. She felt that she had to make a swiftdecision that called into play all her mental powers. On the one handit was "up to her" to return a frigid reply, conveying, without makingany bones about the matter, that she had no interest in nameless Guruswho might or might not be Brahmins from Benares and presentedthemselves at Daisy's doors in a penniless condition without clearknowledge whether they had come by train or not. In favour of suchprudent measures was the truly Athenian character of Daisy's mind, forshe was always enquiring into "some new thing, " which was the secret oflife when first discovered, and got speedily relegated to thedust-heap. But against such a course was the undoubted fact that Daisydid occasionally get hold of somebody who subsequently proved to be ofinterest, and Lucia would never forget to her dying day the advent inRiseholme of a little Welsh attorney, in whom Daisy had discovered awonderful mentality. Lucia had refused to extend her queenlyhospitality to him, or to recognise his existence in any way during thefortnight when he stayed with Daisy, and she was naturally very muchannoyed to find him in a prominent position in the Government not manyyears later. Indeed she had snubbed him so markedly on his firstappearance at Riseholme that he had refused on subsequent visits tocome to her house at all, though he several times visited Mrs Quantockagain, and told her all sorts of political secrets (so she said) whichshe would not divulge for anything in the world. There must never be arepetition of so fatal an error. 

Another thing inclined the wavering balance. She distinctly wanted somefresh element at her court, that should make Riseholme know that shewas in residence again. August would soon be here with its languors andabsence of stimulus, when it was really rather difficult in the drowsywindless weather to keep the flag of culture flying strongly from herown palace. The Guru had already said that he felt sure she had abeautiful soul, and-- The outline of the scheme flashed upon her. Shewould have Yoga evenings in the hot August weather, at which, as theheat of the day abated, graceful groups should assemble among themottos in the garden and listen to high talk on spiritual subjects. They would adjourn to delicious moonlit suppers in the pergola, or ifthe moon was indisposed--she could not be expected to regulate theaffairs of the moon as well as of Riseholme--there would be dim seancesand sandwiches In the smoking-parlour. The humorous furniture should beput in cupboards, and as they drifted towards the front hall again, when the clocks struck an unexpectedly late hour, little whisperedcolloquies of "How wonderful he was tonight" would be heard, and therewould be faraway looks and sighs, and the notings down of the titles ofbooks that conducted the pilgrim on the Way. Perhaps as they softlyassembled for departure, a little music would be suggested to round offthe evening, and she saw herself putting down the soft pedal as peoplerustled into their places, for the first movement of the "MoonlightSonata. " Then at the end there would be silence, and she would get upwith a sigh, and someone would say "Lucia mia"! and somebody else"Heavenly Music, " and perhaps the Guru would say "Beloved lady, " as hehad _apparently_ said to poor Daisy Quantock. Flowers, music, addresses from the Guru, soft partings, sense of refreshment. .. . Withthe memory of the Welsh attorney in her mind, it seemed clearly wiserto annex rather than to repudiate the Guru. She seized a pen and drew apile of postcards towards her, on the top of which was printed her nameand address. 

"Too wonderful, " she wrote, "pray bring him yourself to my littlegarden-party on Friday. There will be only a few. Let me know if hewants a quiet room ready for him. "

All this had taken time, and she had but scribbled a dozen postcards tofriends bidding them come to her garden party on Friday, when tea wasannounced. These invitations had the mystic word "Hightum" written atthe bottom left hand corner, which conveyed to the enlightened recipientwhat sort of party it was to be, and denoted the standard of dress. Forone of Lucia's quaint ideas was to divide dresses into three classes, "Hightum, " "Tightum" and "Scrub. " "Hightum" was your very best dress, the smartest and newest of all, and when "Hightum" was written on acard of invitation, it implied that the party was a very resplendentone. "Tightum" similarly indicated a moderately smart party, "Scrub"carried its own significance on the surface. These terms applied tomen's dress as well and as regards evening parties: a dinner party"Hightum" would indicate a white tie and a tail coat; a dinner party"Tightum" a black tie and a short coat, and a dinner "Scrub" would meanmorning clothes. 

With tea was announced also the advent of Georgie Pillson who was hergentleman-in-waiting when she was at home, and her watch-dog when shewas not. In order to save subsequent disappointment, it may be at oncestated that there never has been, was, or ever would be the smallestapproach to a flirtation between them. Neither of them, she with herforty respectable years and he with his blameless forty-five years, hadever flirted, with anybody at all. But it was one of the polite andpleasant fictions of Riseholme that Georgie was passionately attachedto her and that it was for her sake that he had settled in Riseholmenow some seven years ago, and that for her sake he remained stillunmarried. She never, to do her justice, had affirmed anything of thesort, but it is a fact that sometimes when Georgie's name came up inconversation, her eyes wore that "far-away" look that only themasterpieces of art could otherwise call up, and she would sigh andmurmur "Dear Georgie"! and change the subject, with the tact thatcharacterized her. In fact their mutual relations were among the mostBeautiful Things of Riseholme, and hardly less beautiful was Peppino'sattitude towards it all. That large hearted man trusted them both, andhis trust was perfectly justified. Georgie was in and out of the houseall day, chiefly in; and not only did scandal never rear its hissinghead, but it positively had not a head to hiss with, or a foot to standon. On his side again Georgie had never said that he was in love withher (nor would it have been true if he had), but by his completesilence on the subject coupled with his constancy he seemed to admitthe truth of this bloodless idyll. They talked and walked and read themasterpieces of literature and played duets on the piano together. Sometimes (for he was the more brilliant performer, though as he said"terribly lazy about practising, " for which she scolded him) he wouldgently slap the back of her hand, if she played a wrong note, and say"Naughty!" And she would reply in baby language "Me vewy sowwy! Oonaughty too to hurt Lucia!" That was the utmost extent of their carnalfamiliarities, and with bright eyes fixed on the music they would breakinto peals of girlish laughter, until the beauty of the music soberedthem again. 

Georgie (he was Georgie or Mr Georgie, never Pillson to the whole ofRiseholme) was not an obtrusively masculine sort of person. Suchmasculinity as he was possessed of was boyish rather than adult, andthe most important ingredients in his nature were womanish. He had, incommon with the rest of Riseholme, strong artistic tastes, and inaddition to playing the piano, made charming little water-coloursketches, many of which he framed at his own expense and gave tofriends, with slightly sentimental titles, neatly printed in giltletters on the mount. "Golden Autumn Woodland, " "Bleak December, ""Yellow Daffodils, " "Roses of Summer" were perhaps his most notableseries, and these he had given to Lucia, on the occasion of foursuccessive birthdays. He did portraits as well in pastel; these were oftwo types, elderly ladies in lace caps with a row of pearls, and boysin cricket shirts with their sleeves rolled up. He was not very good ateyes, so his sitters always were looking down, but he was excellent atsmiles, and the old ladies smiled patiently and sweetly, and the boysgaily. But his finest accomplishment was needlework and his house wasfull of the creations of his needle, wool-work curtains, petit-pointchair seats, and silk embroideries framed and glazed. Next to Lucia hewas the hardest worked inhabitant of Riseholme but not being so strongas the Queen, he had often to go away for little rests by the sea-side. Travelling by train fussed him a good deal, for he might not be able toget a corner seat, or somebody with a pipe or a baby might get into hiscarriage, or the porter might be rough with his luggage, so he alwayswent in his car to some neighbouring watering-place where they knewhim. Dicky, his handsome young chauffeur, drove him, and by Dicky'sside sat Foljambe, his very pretty parlour-maid who valetted him. IfDicky took the wrong turn his master called "Naughty boy" through thetube, and Foljambe smiled respectfully. For the month of August, histwo plain strapping sisters (Hermione and Ursula alas!) always came tostay with him. They liked pigs and dogs and otter-hunting andmutton-chops, and were rather a discordant element in Riseholme. ButGeorgie had a kind heart, and never even debated whether he should askHermy and Ursy or not, though he had to do a great deal of tidying upafter they had gone. 

There was always a playful touch between the meetings of these two wheneither of them had been away from Riseholme that very prettilyconcealed the depth of Georgie's supposed devotion, and when she cameout into the garden where her Cavalier and her husband were waiting fortheir tea under the pergola, Georgie jumped up very nimbly and took afew chassee-ing steps towards her with both hands outstretched inwelcome. She caught at his humour, made him a curtsey, and next momentthey were treading a little improvised minuet together with hands heldhigh, and pointed toes. Georgie had very small feet, and it was areally elegant toe that he pointed, encased in cloth-topped boots. Hehad on a suit of fresh white flannels and over his shoulders, for fearof the evening air being chilly after this hot day, he had a littlecape of a military cut, like those in which young ladies at music-hallsenact the part of colonels. He had a straw-hat on, with a blue riband, a pink shirt and a red tie, rather loose and billowy. His face was pinkand round, with blue eyes, a short nose and very red lips. An almostcomplete absence of eyebrow was made up for by a firm little brownmoustache clipped very short, and brushed upwards at its extremities. Contrary to expectation he was quite tall and fitted very neatly intohis clothes. 

The dance came to an end with a low curtsey on Lucia's part, anobeisance hat in hand from Georgie (this exposure shewing a crop ofhair grown on one side of his head and brushed smoothly over the topuntil it joined the hair on the other side) and a clapping of the handsfrom Peppino. 

"Bravo, bravo, " he cried from the tea-table. "Capital!"

Mrs Lucas blew him a kiss in acknowledgment of this compliment andsmiled on her partner. "_Amico!_" she said. "It is nice to see youagain. How goes it?"

"_Va bene_, " said Georgie to show he could talk Italian too. "_Va_ very _bene_ now that you've come back. "

"_Grazie!_ Now tell us all the news. We'll have a good gossip. "

Georgie's face beamed with a "solemn gladness" at the word, like adrunkard's when brandy is mentioned. 

"Where shall we begin?" he said. "Such a lot to tell you. I think wemust begin with a great bit of news. Something really mysterious. "

Lucia smiled inwardly. She felt that she knew for dead certain what themysterious news was, and also that she knew far more about it thanGeorgie. This superiority she completely concealed. Nobody could haveguessed it. 

"_Presto, presto!_" she said. "You excite me. "

"Yesterday morning I was in Rush's, " said Georgie, "seeing about some_Creme de menthe_, which ought to have been sent the day before. Rush is very negligent sometimes--and I was just saying a sharp wordabout it, when suddenly I saw that Rush was not attending at all, butwas looking at something behind my back, and so I looked round. Guess!"

"Don't be tantalising, _amico_, " said she. "How can I guess? Apink elephant with blue spots!"

"No, guess again!"

"A red Indian in full war paint. "

"Certainly not! Guess again, " said Georgie, with a little sigh ofrelief. (It would have been awful if she had guessed. ) At this momentPeppino suddenly became aware that Lucia had guessed and was up to somegame. 

"Give me your hand, Georgie, " she said, "and look at me. I'm going toread your thoughts. Think of what you saw when you turned round. "

She took his hand and pressed it to her forehead, closing her eyes. 

"But I do seem to see an Indian, " she said. "Ah, not red Indian, otherIndian. And--and he has slippers on and brown stockings--no, not brownstockings; it's legs. And there's a beard, and a turban. "

She gave a sigh. 

"That's all I can see, " she said. 

"My dear, you're marvellous, " said he. "You're quite right. "

A slight bubbling sound came from Peppino, and Georgie began tosuspect. 

"I believe you've seen him!" he said. "How tarsome you are. .. . "

When they had all laughed a great deal, and Georgie had been assuredthat Lucia really, word of honour, had no idea what happened next, thenarrative was resumed. 

"So there stood the Indian, bowing and salaaming most politely and whenRush had promised me he would send my _Creme de menthe_ that verymorning, I just looked through a wine list for a moment, and the Indianwith quantities more bows came up to the counter and said, 'If you willhave the great goodness to give me a little brandy bottle. ' So Rushgave it him, and instead of paying for it, what do you think he said?Guess. "

Mrs Lucas rose with the air of Lady Macbeth and pointed her finger atGeorgie. 

"He said 'Put it down to Mrs Quantock's account, '" she hissed. 

Of course the explanation came now, and Lucia told the two men thecontents of Mrs Quantock's letter. With that her cards were on thetable, and though the fact of the Brahmin from Benares was news toGeorgie, he had got many interesting things to tell her, for his houseadjoined Mrs Quantock's and there were plenty of things which MrsQuantock had not mentioned in her letter, so that Georgie was soon inthe position of informant again. His windows overlooked Mrs Quantock'sgarden, and since he could not keep his eyes shut all day, it followedthat the happenings there were quite common property. Indeed that was ageneral rule in Riseholme: anyone in an adjoining property could say, "What an exciting game of lawn-tennis you had this afternoon!" havingfollowed it from his bedroom. That was part of the charm of Riseholme;it was as if it contained just one happy family with common interestsand pursuits. What happened in the house was a more private matter, andMrs Quantock, for instance, would never look from the rising ground atthe end of her garden into Georgie's dining-room or, if she did shewould never tell anyone how many places were laid at table on thatparticular day when she had asked if he could give her lunch, and hehad replied that to his great regret his table was full. But nobodycould help seeing into gardens from back windows: the "view" belongedto everybody. 

Georgie had had wonderful views. 

"That very day, " he said, "soon after lunch, I was looking for a letterI thought I had left in my bedroom, and happening to glance out, I sawthe Indian sitting under Mrs Quantock's pear-tree. He was swaying alittle backwards and forwards. "

"The brandy!" said Lucia excitedly. "He has his meals in his own room. "

"No, _amica_, it was not the brandy. In fact I don't suppose thebrandy had gone to Mrs Quantock's then, for he did not take it fromRush's, but asked that it should be sent. .. . " He paused a moment--"Ordid he take it away? I declare I can't remember. But anyhow when heswayed backwards and forwards, he wasn't drunk, for presently he stoodon one leg, and crooked the other behind it, and remained there withhis hands up, as if he was praying, for quite a long time withoutswaying at all. So he couldn't have been tipsy. And then he sat downagain, and took off his slippers, and held his toes with one hand, while his legs were quite straight out, and put his other hand roundbehind his head, and grasped his other ear with it. I tried to do it onmy bedroom floor, but I couldn't get near it. Then he sat up again andcalled 'Chela! Chela!' and Mrs Quantock came running out. "

"Why did he say 'Chela'?" asked Lucia. 

"I wondered too. But I knew I had some clue to it, so I looked throughsome books by Rudyard Kipling, and found that Chela meant 'Disciple. 'What you have told me just now about 'Guru' being 'teacher, ' seems topiece the whole thing together. "

"And what did Daisy do?" asked Mrs Lucas breathlessly. 

"She sat down too, and put her legs out straight in front of her likethe Guru, and tried to hold the toe of her shoe in her fingers, andnaturally she couldn't get within yards of it. I got nearer than shedid. And he said, 'Beloved lady, not too far at first. '"

"So you could hear too, " said Lucia. 

"Naturally, for my window was open, and as you know Mrs Quantock'spear-tree is quite close to the house. And then he told her to stop upone nostril with her finger and inhale through the other, and then holdher breath, while he counted six. Then she breathed it all out again, and started with the other side. She repeated that several times and hewas very much pleased with her. Then she said, 'It is quite wonderful;I feel so light and vigorous. '"

"It would be very wonderful indeed if dear Daisy felt light, " remarkedLucia. "What next?"

"Then they sat and swayed backwards and forwards again and mutteredsomething that sounded like Pom!"

"That would be 'Om', and then?"

"I couldn't wait any longer for I had some letters to write. "

She smiled at him. 

"I shall give you another cup of tea to reward you for your report, "she said. "It has all been most interesting. Tell me again about thebreathing in and holding your breath. "

Georgie did so, and illustrated in his own person what had happened. Next moment Lucia was imitating him, and Peppino came round in order toget a better view of what Georgie was doing. Then they all sat, inhaling through one nostril, holding their breath, and then expellingit again. 

"Very interesting, " said Lucia at the end. "Upon my word, it does giveone a sort of feeling of vigour and lightness. I wonder if there issomething in it. "

Chapter THREE

Though "The Hurst" was, as befitted its Chatelaine, the mostElizabethanly complete abode in Riseholme, the rest of the village inits due degree, fell very little short of perfection. It had but itsone street some half mile in length but that street was a gem ofmediaeval domestic architecture. For the most part the houses thatlined it were blocks of contiguous cottages, which had been convertedeither singly or by twos and threes into dwellings containing thecomforts demanded by the twentieth century, but externally theypreserved the antiquity which, though it might be restored orsupplemented by bathrooms or other conveniences, presented a trulyElizabethan appearance. There were, of course, accretions such as oldinn signs above front-doors and old bell-pulls at their sides, but thedoors were uniformly of inconveniently low stature, roofs were of stoneslabs or old brick, in which a suspiciously abundant crop ofantirrhinums and stone crops had anchored themselves, and there washardly a garden that did not contain a path of old paving-stones, amulberry-tree and some yews cut into shape. 

Nothing in the place was more blatantly mediaeval than the villagegreen, across which Georgie took his tripping steps after leaving thepresence of his queen. Round it stood a row of great elms, and in itscentre was the ducking-pond, according to Riseholme tradition, thoughperhaps in less classical villages it might have passed merely for aduck-pond. But in Riseholme it would have been rank heresy to dream, even in the most pessimistic moments, of its being anything but aducking-pond. Close by it stood a pair of stocks, about which there wasno doubt whatever, for Mr Lucas had purchased them from a neighbouringiconoclastic village, where they were going to be broken up, and, afterhaving them repaired, had presented them to the village-green, andchosen their site close to the ducking pond. Round the green weregrouped the shops of the village, slightly apart from the residentialstreet, and at the far end of it was that undoubtedly Elizabethanhostelry, the Ambermere Arms, full to overflowing of ancient tables andbible-boxes, and fire-dogs and fire-backs, and bottles and chests andsettles. These were purchased in large quantities by the Americantourists who swarmed there during the summer months, at a high profitto the nimble proprietor, who thereupon purchased fresh antiquities totake their places. The Ambermere Arms in fact was the antique furnitureshop of the place, and did a thriving trade, for it was much moreinteresting to buy objects out of a real old Elizabethan inn, than outof a shop. 

Georgie had put his smart military cape over his arm for his walk, andat intervals applied his slim forefinger to one nostril, while hebreathed in through the other, continuing the practice which he hadobserved going on in Mrs Quantock's garden. Though it made him a littledizzy, it certainly produced a sort of lightness, but soon heremembered the letter from Mrs Quantock which Lucia had read out, warning her that these exercises ought to be taken under instruction, and so desisted. He was going to deliver Lucia's answer at MrsQuantock's house, and with a view to possibly meeting the Guru, andbeing introduced to him, he said over to himself "Guru, Guru, Guru"instead of doing deep breathing, in order to accustom himself to theunusual syllables. 

It would, of course, have been very strange and un-Riseholme-like tohave gone to a friend's door, even though the errand was so impersonala one as bearing somebody else's note, without enquiring whether thefriend was in, and being instantly admitted if she was, and as a matterof fact, Georgie caught a glimpse, when the knocker was answered (MrsQuantock did not have a bell at all), through the open door of thehall, of Mrs Quantock standing in the middle of the lawn on one leg. Naturally, therefore, he ran out into the garden without any furtherformality. She looked like a little round fat stork, whose legs had notgrown, but who preserved the habits of her kind. 

"Dear lady, I've brought a note for you, " he said, "it's from Lucia. "

The other leg went down, and she turned on him the wide firm smile thatshe had learned in the vanished days of Christian Science. 

"Om, " said Mrs Quantock, expelling the remainder of her breath. "Thankyou, my dear Georgie. It's extraordinary what Yoga has done for mealready. Cold quite gone. If ever you feel out of sorts, or depressedor cross you can cure yourself at once. I've got a visitor staying withme. "

"Have you indeed?" asked Georgie, without alluding to the thrillingexcitements which had trodden so close on each other's heels sinceyesterday morning when he had seen the Guru in Rush's shop. 

"Yes; and as you've just come from dear Lucia's perhaps she may havesaid something to you about him, for I wrote to her about him. He's aGuru of extraordinary sanctity from Benares, and he's teaching me theWay. You shall see him too, unless he's meditating. I will call to him;if he's meditating he won't hear me, so we shan't be interrupting him. He wouldn't hear a railway accident if he was meditating. "

She turned round towards the house. 

"Guru, dear!" she called. 

There was a moment's pause, and the Indian's face appeared at a window. 

"Beloved lady!" he said. 

"Guru dear, I want to introduce a friend of mine to you, " she said. "This is Mr Pillson, and when you know him a little better you willcall him Georgie. "

"Beloved lady, I know him very well indeed. I see into his clear whitesoul. Peace be unto you, my friend. "

"Isn't he marvellous? Fancy!" said Mrs Quantock, in an aside. 

Georgie raised his hat very politely. 

"How do you do?" he said. (After his quiet practice he would have said"How do you do Guru?" but it rhymed in a ridiculous manner and his redlips could not frame the word. )

"I am always well, " said the Guru, "I am always young and well becauseI follow the Way. "

"Sixty at least he tells me, " said Mrs Quantock in a hissing aside, probably audible across the channel, "and he thinks more, but the yearsmake no difference to him. He is like a boy. Call him 'Guru. '"

"Guru, --" began Georgie. 

"Yes, my friend. "

"I am very glad you are well, " said Georgie wildly. He was greatlyimpressed, but much embarrassed. Also it was so hard to talk at asecond-story window with any sense of ease, especially when you had toaddress a total stranger of extraordinary sanctity from Benares. 

Luckily Mrs Quantock came to the assistance of his embarrassment. 

"Guru dear, are you coming down to see us?" she asked. 

"Beloved lady, no!" said the level voice. "It is laid on me to waithere. It is the time of calm and prayer when it is good to be alone. Iwill come down when the guides bid me. But teach our dear friend what Ihave taught you. Surely before long I will grasp his earthly hand, butnot now. Peace! Peace! and Light!"

"Have you got some Guides as well?" asked Georgie when the Gurudisappeared from the window. "And are they Indians too?"

"Oh, those are his spiritual guides, " said Mrs Quantock, "He sees themand talks to them, but they are not in the body. "

She gave a happy sigh. 

"I never have felt anything like it, " she said. "He has brought such anatmosphere into the house that even Robert feels it, and doesn't mindbeing turned out of his dressing-room. There, he has shut the window. Isn't it all marvellous?"

Georgie had not seen anything particularly marvellous yet, except thephenomenon of Mrs Quantock standing on one leg in the middle of thelawn, but presumably her emotion communicated itself to him by thesubtle infection of the spirit. 

"And what does he do?" he asked. 

"My dear, it is not what he does, but what he is, " said she. "Why, evenmy little bald account of him to Lucia has made her ask him to hergarden-party. Of course I can't tell whether he will go or not. Heseems so very much--how shall I say it?--so very much sent to Me. But Ishall of course ask him whether he will consent. Trances and meditationall day! And in the intervals such serenity and sweetness. You know, for instance, how tiresome Robert is about his food. Well, last nightthe mutton, I am bound to say, was a little underdone, and Robert wasbeginning to throw it about his plate in the way he has. Well, my Gurugot up and just said, 'Show me the way to kitchen'--he leaves outlittle words sometimes, because they don't matter--and I took him down, and he said 'Peace!' He told me to leave him there, and in ten minuteshe was up again with a little plate of curry and rice and what had beenunderdone mutton, and you never ate anything so good. Robert had mostof it and I had the rest, and my Guru was so pleased at seeing Robertpleased. He said Robert had a pure white soul, just like you, only Iwasn't to tell him, because for him the Way ordained that he must findit out for himself. And today before lunch again, the Guru went down inthe kitchen, and my cook told me he only took a pinch of pepper and atomato and a little bit of mutton fat and a sardine and a bit ofcheese, and he brought up a dish that you never saw equalled. Delicious! I shouldn't a bit wonder if Robert began breathing-exercisessoon. There is one that makes you lean and young and exercises theliver. "

This sounded very entrancing. 

"Can't you teach me that?" asked Georgie eagerly. He had been ratherdistressed about his increasing plumpness for a year past, and abouthis increasing age for longer than that. As for his liver he always hadto be careful. 

She shook her head. 

"You cannot practise it except under tuition from an expert, " she said. 

Georgie rapidly considered what Hermy's and Ursy's comments would beif, when they arrived tomorrow, he was found doing exercises under thetuition of a Guru. Hermy, when she was not otter-hunting, could be verysarcastic, and he had a clear month of Hermy in front of him, withoutany otter-hunting, which, so she had informed him, was not possible inAugust. This was mysterious to Georgie, because it did not seem likelythat all otters died in August, and a fresh brood came in likecaterpillars. If Hermy was here in October, she would otter-hunt allmorning and snore all afternoon, and be in the best of tempers, but theAugust visit required more careful steering. Yet the prospect of beinglean and young and internally untroubled was wonderfully tempting. 

"But couldn't he be my Guru as well?" he asked. 

Quite suddenly and by some demoniac possession, a desire that had beenonly intermittently present in Mrs Quantock's consciousness took fullpossession of her, a red revolutionary insurgence hoisted its banner. Why with this stupendous novelty in the shape of a Guru shouldn't shelead and direct Riseholme instead of Lucia? She had long wondered whydarling Lucia should be Queen of Riseholme, and had, by momentaryillumination, seen herself thus equipped as far more capable ofexercising supremacy. After all, everybody in Riseholme knew Lucia'sold tune by now, and was in his secret consciousness quite aware thatshe did not play the second and third movements of the MoonlightSonata, simply because they "went faster, " however much she might cloakthe omission by saying that they resembled eleven o'clock in themorning and 3 p. M. And Mrs Quantock had often suspected that she didnot read one quarter of the books she talked about, and that she got upsubjects in the Encyclopaedia, in order to make a brave show thatcovered essential ignorance. Certainly she spent a good deal of moneyover entertaining, but Robert had lately made twenty times daily whatLucia spent annually, over Roumanian oils. As for her acting, had shenot completely forgotten her words as Lady Macbeth in the middle of thesleep-walking scene?

But here was Lucia, as proved by her note, and her A. D. C. Georgie, wildly interested in the Guru. Mrs Quantock conjectured that Lucia'splan was to launch the Guru at her August parties, as her owndiscovery. He would be a novelty, and it would be Lucia who gaveOm-parties and breathing-parties and standing-on-one-leg parties, whileshe herself, Daisy Quantock, would be bidden to these as a humbleguest, and Lucia would get all the credit, and, as likely as not, invite the discoverer, the inventress, just now and then. MrsQuantock's Guru would become Lucia's Guru and all Riseholme would flockhungrily for light and leading to The Hurst. She had written to Luciain all sincerity, hoping that she would extend the hospitality of hergarden-parties to the Guru, but now the very warmth of Lucia's replycaused her to suspect this ulterior motive. She had been tooprecipitate, too rash, too ill-advised, too sudden, as Lucia would say. She ought to have known that Lucia, with her August parties coming on, would have jumped at a Guru, and withheld him for her own parties, taking the wind out of Lucia's August sails. Lucia had already subornedGeorgie to leave this note, and begin to filch the Guru away. MrsQuantock saw it all now, and clearly this was not to be borne. Beforeshe answered, she steeled herself with the triumph she had once scoredin the matter of the Welsh attorney. 

"Dear Georgie, " she said, "no one would be more delighted than I if myGuru consented to take you as a pupil. But you can't tell what he willdo, as he said to me today, apropos of myself, 'I cannot come unlessI'm sent. ' Was not that wonderful? He knew at once he had been sent tome. "

By this time Georgie was quite determined to have the Guru. The measureof his determination may be gauged from the fact that he forgot allabout Lucia's garden-party. 

"But he called me his friend, " he said. "He told me I had a clean whitesoul. "

"Yes; but that is his attitude towards everybody, " said Mrs Quantock. "His religion makes it impossible for him to think ill of anybody. "

"But he didn't say that to Rush, " cried Georgie, "when he asked forsome brandy, to be put down to you. "

Mrs Quantock's expression changed for a moment, but that moment was tooshort for Georgie to notice it. Her face instantly cleared again. 

"Naturally he cannot go about saying that sort of thing, " she observed. "Common people--he is of the highest caste--would not understand him. "

Georgie made the direct appeal. 

"Please ask him to teach me, " he said. 

For a moment Mrs Quantock did not answer, but cocked her head sidewaysin the direction of the pear-tree where a thrush was singing. It fluteda couple of repeated phrases and then was silent again. 

Mrs Quantock gave a great smile to the pear-tree. 

"Thank you, little brother, " she said. 

She turned to Georgie again. 

"That comes out of St. Francis, " she said, "but Yoga embraces all thatis true in every religion. Well, I will ask my Guru whether he willtake you as a pupil, but I can't answer for what he will say. "

"What does he--what does he charge for his lesson?" asked Georgie. 

The Christian Science smile illuminated her face again. 

"The word 'money' never passes his lips, " she said. "I don't think hereally knows what it means. He proposed to sit on the green with abeggar's bowl but of course I would not permit that, and for thepresent I just give him all he wants. No doubt when he goes away, whichI hope will not be for many weeks yet, though no one can tell when hewill have another call, I shall slip something suitably generous intohis hand, but I don't think about that. Must you be going? Good night, dear Georgie. Peace! Om!"

His last backward glance as he went out of the front door revealed herstanding on one leg again, just as he had seen her first. He remembereda print of a fakir at Benares, standing in that attitude; and if thestream that flowed into the Avon could be combined with the Ganges, andthe garden into the burning ghaut, and the swooping swallows into thekites, and the neat parlour-maid who showed him out, into a Brahmin, and the Chinese gong that was so prominent an object in the hall into apiece of Benares brassware, he could almost have fancied himself asstanding on the brink of the sacred river. The marigolds in the gardenrequired no transmutation. .. . 

Georgie had quite "to pull himself together, " as he stepped round MrsQuantock's mulberry tree, and ten paces later round his own, before hecould recapture his normal evening mood, on those occasions when he wasgoing to dine alone. Usually these evenings were very pleasant and muchoccupied, for they did not occur very often in this whirl of Riseholmelife, and it was not more than once a week that he spent a solitaryevening, and then, if he got tired of his own company, there were halfa dozen houses, easy of access where he could betake himself in hismilitary cloak, and spend a post-prandial hour. But oftener than notwhen these occasions occurred, he would be quite busy at home, dustinga little china, and rearranging ornaments on his shelves, and, afterputting his rings and handkerchief in the candle-bracket of the piano, spending a serious hour (with the soft pedal down, for fear ofirritating Robert) in reading his share of such duets as he would belikely to be called upon to play with Lucia during the next day or two. Though he read music much better than she did, he used to "go over" thepart alone first, and let it be understood that he had not seen itbefore. But then he was sure that she had done precisely the same, sothey started fair. Such things whiled away very pleasantly the hourstill eleven, when he went to bed, and it was seldom that he had to setout Patience-cards to tide him over the slow minutes. 

But every now and then--and tonight was one of those occasions--thereoccurred evenings when he never went out to dinner even if he wasasked, because he "was busy indoors. " They occurred about once a month(these evenings that he was "busy indoors")--and even an invitationfrom Lucia would not succeed in disturbing them. Ages ago Riseholme haddecided what made Georgie "busy indoors" once a month, and so none ofhis friends chatted about the nature of his engagements to anyone else, simply because everybody else knew. His business indoors, in fact, wasa perfect secret, from having been public property for so long. 

June had been a very busy time, not "indoors, " but with otherengagements, and as Georgie went up to his bedroom, having been told byFoljambe that the hair-dresser was waiting for him, and had beenwaiting "this last ten minutes, " he glanced at his hair in theCromwellian mirror that hung on the stairs, and was quite aware that itwas time he submitted himself to Mr Holroyd's ministrations. There wascertainly an undergrowth of grey hair visible beneath his chestnutcrop, that should have been attended to at least a fortnight ago. Alsothere was a growing thinness in the locks that crossed his head; MrHolroyd had attended to that before, and had suggested a certainremedy, not in the least inconvenient, unless Georgie proposed to beathletic without a cap, in a high wind, and even then not necessarilyso. But as he had no intention of being athletic anywhere, with orwithout a cap, he determined as he went up the stairs that he wouldfollow Mr Holroyd's advice. Mr Holroyd's procedure, without this addedformula, entailed sitting "till it dried, " and after that he would havedinner, and then Mr Holroyd would begin again. He was a very cleverperson with regard to the face and the hands and the feet. Georgie hadbeen conscious of walking a little lamely lately; he had been even moreconscious of the need of hot towels on his face and the "tap-tap" of MrHolroyd's fingers, and the stretchings of Mr Holroyd's thumb acrossrather slack surfaces of cheek and chin. In the interval between thehair and the face, Mr Holroyd should have a good supper downstairs withFoljambe and the cook. And tomorrow morning, when he met Hermy andUrsy, Georgie would be just as spick and span and young as ever, if notmore so. 

Georgie (happy innocent!) was completely unaware that the whole ofRiseholme knew that the smooth chestnut locks which covered the top ofhis head, were trained like the tendrils of a grapevine from the roots, and flowed like a river over a bare head, and consequently when MrHolroyd explained the proposed innovation, a little central wig, theedges of which would mingle in the most natural manner with his ownhair, it seemed to Georgie that nobody would know the difference. Inaddition he would be spared those risky moments when he had to take offhis hat to a friend in a high wind, for there was always the danger ofhis hair blowing away from the top of his head, and hanging down, likethe tresses of a Rhine-maiden over one shoulder. So Mr Holroyd wascommissioned to put that little affair in hand at once, and when thegreyness had been attended to, and Georgie had had his dinner, therecame hot towels and tappings on his face, and other ministrations. Allwas done about half past ten, and when he came downstairs again for ashort practice at the bass part of Beethoven's fifth symphony, ingeniously arranged for two performers on the piano, he looked withsincere satisfaction at his rosy face in the Cromwellian mirror, andhis shoes felt quite comfortable again, and his nails shone like pinkstars, as his hands dashed wildly about the piano in the quickerpassages. But all the time the thought of the Guru next door, underwhose tuition he might be able to regain his youth without recourse tothose expensive subterfuges (for the price of the undetectable_toupet_ astonished him) rang in his head with a melody morehaunting than Beethoven's. What he would have liked best of all wouldhave been to have the Guru all to himself, so that he should remainperpetually young, while all the rest of Riseholme, including Hermy andUrsy, grew old. Then, indeed, he would be king of the place, instead ofserving the interests of its queen. 

He rose with a little sigh, and after adjusting the strip of flannelover the keys, shut his piano and busied himself for a little with asoft duster over his cabinet of bibelots which not even Foljambe wasallowed to touch. It was generally understood that he had inheritedthem, though the inheritance had chiefly passed to him through themedium of curiosity shops, and there were several pieces ofconsiderable value among them. There were a gold Louis XVI snuff box, aminiature by Karl Huth, a silver toy porringer of the time of QueenAnne, a piece of Bow china, an enamelled cigarette case by Faberge. Buttonight his handling of them was not so dainty and delicate as usual, and he actually dropped the porringer on the floor as he was dustingit, for his mind still occupied itself with the Guru and the practicesthat led to permanent youth. How quick Lucia had been to snap him upfor her garden-party. Yet perhaps she would not get him, for he mightsay he was not sent. But surely he would be sent to Georgie, whom heknew, the moment he set eyes on him to have a clean white soul. .. . 

The clock struck eleven, and, as usual on warm nights Georgie openedthe glass door into his garden and drew in a breath of the night air. There was a slip of moon in the sky which he most punctiliouslysaluted, wondering (though he did not seriously believe in itssuperstition) how Lucia could be so foolhardy as to cut the new moon. She had seen it yesterday, she told him, in London, and had taken nonotice whatever of it. .. . The heavens were quickly peppered with prettystars, which Georgie after his busy interesting day enjoyed looking at, though if he had had the arrangement of them, he would certainly haveput them into more definite patterns. Among them was a very red planet, and Georgie with recollections of his classical education, easilyremembered that Mars, the God of War, was symbolized in the heavens bya red star. Could that mean anything to peaceful Riseholme? Wasinternal warfare, were revolutionary movements possible in so serene arealm?

Chapter FOUR

Pink irascible Robert, prone to throw his food about his plate, if itdid not commend itself to him, felt in an extremely good natured moodthat same night after dinner, for the Guru had again made a visit tothe kitchen with the result that instead of a slab of pale dead codfishbeing put before him after he had eaten some tepid soup, there appeareda delicious little fish-curry. The Guru had behaved with great tact; hehad seen the storm gathering on poor Robert's face, as he sipped thecool effete concoction and put down his spoon again with a splash inhis soup plate, and thereupon had bowed and smiled and scurried away tothe kitchen to intercept the next abomination. Then returning with thelittle curry he explained that it was entirely for Robert, since thosewho sought the Way did not indulge in hot sharp foods, and so he hadgobbled it up to the very last morsel. 

In consequence when the Guru salaamed very humbly, and said that withgracious permission of beloved lady and kind master he would go andmeditate in his room, and had shambled away in his red slippers, thediscussion which Robert had felt himself obliged to open with his wife, on the subject of having an unknown Indian staying with them for anindefinite period, was opened in a much more amicable key than it wouldhave been on a slice of codfish. 

"Well, now, about this Golliwog--haha--I should say Guru, my dear, " hebegan, "what's going to happen?"

Daisy Quantock drew in her breath sharply and winced at thisirreverence, but quickly remembered that she must always be sending outmessages of love, north, east, south, and west. So she sent a ratherspiky one in the direction of her husband who was sitting due east, sothat it probably got to him at once, and smiled the particular hardfirm smile which was an heirloom inherited from her last rule of life. 

"No one knows, " she said brightly. "Even the Guides can't tell whereand when a Guru may he called. "

"Then do you propose he should stop here till he's called somewhereelse?"

She continued smiling. 

"I don't propose anything, " she said. "It's not in my hands. "

Under the calming influence of the fish curry, Robert remained stillplacid. 

"He's a first-rate cook anyhow, " he said. "Can't you engage him asthat? Call to the kitchen, you know. "

"Darling!" said Mrs Quantock, sending out more love. But she had aquick temper, and indeed the two were outpoured together, like hot andcold taps turned on in a bath. The pellucid stream of love served tokeep her temper moderately cool. 

"Well, ask him, " suggested Mr Quantock, "as you say, you never can tellwhere a Guru may be called. Give him forty pounds a year and beermoney. "

"Beer!" began Mrs Quantock, when she suddenly remembered Georgie'sstory about Rush and the Guru and the brandy-bottle, and stopped. 

"Yes, dear, I said 'beer, '" remarked Robert a little irritably, "and inany case I insist that you dismiss your present cook. You only took herbecause she was a Christian Scientist, and you've left that littlesheep-fold now. You used to talk about false claims I remember. Wellher claim to be a cook is the falsest I ever heard of. I'd sooner takemy chance with an itinerant organ grinder. But that fish-curry tonightand that other thing last night, that's what I mean by good eating. "

The thought even of good food always calmed Robert's savage breast; itblew upon him as the wind on an AEolian harp hung in the trees, evokingfaint sweet sounds. 

"I'm sure, my dear, " he said, "that I shall be willing to fall in withany pleasant arrangement about your Guru, but it really isn'tunreasonable in me to ask what sort of arrangement you propose. Ihaven't a word to say against him, especially when he goes to thekitchen; I only want to know if he is going to stop here a night or twoor a year or two. Talk to him about it tomorrow with my love. I wonderif he can make bisque soup. "

Daisy Quantock carried quite a quantity of material for reflectionupstairs with her, then she went to bed, pausing a moment opposite theGuru's door, from inside of which came sounds of breathing so deep thatit sounded almost like snoring. But she seemed to detect a timbre ofspirituality about it which convinced her that he was holding highcommunion with the Guides. It was round him that her thoughts centred, he was the tree through the branches of which they scamperedchattering. 

Her first and main interest in him was sheer Guruism, for she was oneof those intensely happy people who pass through life in ecstaticpursuit of some idea which those who do not share it call a fad. Wellmight poor Robert remember the devastation of his home when Daisy, after the perusal of a little pamphlet which she picked up on abook-stall called "The Uric Acid Monthly, " came to the shatteringconclusion that her buxom frame consisted almost entirely ofwaste-products which must be eliminated. For a greedy man the situationwas frankly intolerable, for when he continued his ordinary diet (thiswas before the cursed advent of the Christian Science cook) she keptpointing to his well-furnished plate, and told him that every atom ofthat beef or mutton and potatoes, turned from the moment he swallowed itinto chromogens and toxins, and that his apparent appetite was merely theresult of fermentation. For herself her platter was an abominable messof cheese and protein-powder and apples and salad-oil, while round her, like saucers of specimen seeds were ranged little piles of nuts andpine-branches, which supplied body-building material, and which sheweighed out with scrupulous accuracy, in accordance with the directionsof the "Uric Acid Monthly. " Tea and coffee were taboo, since theyflooded the blood with purins, and the kitchen boiler rumbled day andnight to supply the rivers of boiling water with which (taken in sips)she inundated her system. Strange gaunt females used to come down fromLondon, with small parcels full of tough food that tasted oftravelling-bags and contained so much nutrition that a port-manteaufull of it would furnish the daily rations of any army. Luckily evenher iron constitution could not stand the strain of such ideal livingfor long, and her growing anaemia threatened to undermine aconstitution seriously impaired by the precepts of perfect health. Acourse of beef-steaks and other substantial viands loaded with uricacid restored her to her former vigour. 

Thus reinforced, she plunged with the same energy as she had devoted torepelling uric acid into the embrace of Christian Science. Theinhumanity of that sect towards both herself and others took completepossession of her, and when her husband complained on a bitter Januarymorning that his smoking-room was like an icehouse, because thehousemaid had forgotten to light the fire, she had no touch of pity forhim, since she knew that there was no such thing as cold or heat orpain, and therefore you could not feel cold. But now, since, accordingto the new creed, such things as uric acid, chromogens and purins hadno existence, she could safely indulge in decent viands again. But herunhappy husband was not a real gainer in this respect, for while heate, she tirelessly discoursed to him on the new creed, and asked himto recite with her the True Statement of Being. And on the top of thatshe dismissed the admirable cook, and engaged the miscreant from whomhe suffered still, though Christian Science, which had allowed her coldto make so long a false claim on her, had followed the uric-acid fadinto the limbo of her discarded beliefs. 

But now once more she had temporarily discovered the secret of life inthe teachings of the Guru, and it was, as has been mentioned, sheerGuruism that constituted the main attraction of the new creed. Thatthen being taken for granted, she turned her mind to certainside-issues, which to a true Riseholmite were of entrancing interest. She felt a strong suspicion that Lucia contemplated annexing her Gurualtogether, for otherwise she would not have returned so enthusiastic aresponse to her note, nor have sent Georgie to deliver it, nor haveprofessed so violent an interest in the Guru. What then was thecorrectly diabolical policy to pursue? Should Daisy Quantock refuse totake him to Mrs Lucas altogether, with a message of regret that he didnot feel himself sent? Even if she did this, did she feel herselfstrong enough to throw down the gauntlet (in the shape of the Guru)and, using him as the attraction, challenge darling Lucia to mutualcombat, in order to decide who should be the leader of all that wasadvanced and cultured in Riseholme society? Still following thatramification of this policy, should she bribe Georgie over to her ownrevolutionary camp, by promising him instruction from the Guru? Orfollowing a less dashing line, should she take darling Lucia andGeorgie into the charmed circle, and while retaining her own right oftreasure trove, yet share it with them in some inner ring, dispensingthe Guru to them, if they were good, in small doses?

Mrs Quantock's mind resembled in its workings the manoeuvres of a mothdistracted by the glory of several bright lights. It dashed at one, gotslightly singed, and forgetting all about that turned its attention tothe second, and the third, taking headers into each in turn, withoutdeciding which, on the whole, was the most enchanting of thoseluminaries. So, in order to curb the exuberance of these frenziedexcursions she got a half sheet of paper, and noted down thealternatives that she must choose from. 

"(I) Shall I keep him entirely to myself?

"(II) Shall I run him for all he is worth, and leave out L?

"(III) Shall I get G on my side?

"(IV) Shall I give L and G bits?"

She paused a moment: then remembering that he had voluntarily helpedher very pretty housemaid to make the beds that morning, saying thathis business (like the Prince of Wales's) was to serve, she added:

"(V) Shall I ask him to be my cook?"

For a few seconds the brightness of her eager interest was dimmed asthe unworthy suspicion occurred to her that perhaps the prettiness ofher housemaid had something to do with his usefulness in the bedrooms, but she instantly dismissed it. There was the bottle of brandy, too, which he had ordered from Rush's. When she had begged him to orderanything he wanted and cause it to be put down to her account, she hadnot actually contemplated brandy. Then remembering that one of the mostnecessary conditions for progress in Yoga, was that the disciple shouldhave complete confidence in the Guru, she chased that also out of hermind. But still, even when the lines of all possible policies werewritten down, she could come to no decision, and putting her paper byher bed, decided to sleep over it. The rhythmical sounds of hallowedbreathing came steadily from next door, and she murmured "Om, Om, " intime with them. 

The hours of the morning between breakfast and lunch were the timewhich the inhabitants of Riseholme chiefly devoted to spying on eachother. They went about from shop to shop on household businesses, occasionally making purchases which they carried away with them inlittle paper parcels with convenient loops of string, but the realobject of these excursions was to see what everybody else was doing, and learn what fresh interests had sprung up like mushrooms during thenight. Georgie would be matching silks at the draper's, and verynaturally he would carry them from the obscurity of the interior to thedoor in order to be certain about the shades, and keep his eye on thecomings and goings in the street, and very naturally Mr Lucas on hisway to the market gardener's to enquire whether he had yet received thebulbs from Holland, would tell him that Lucia had received thepiano-arrangement of the Mozart trio. Georgie for his part would mentionthat Hermy and Ursy were expected that evening, and Peppino enriched bythis item would "toddle on, " as his phrase went, to meet and exchangeconfidences with the next spy. He had noticed incidentally that Georgiecarried a small oblong box with hard corners, which, perfectlycorrectly, he conjectured to be cigarettes for Hermy and Ursy, sinceGeorgie never smoked. 

"Well, I must be toddling on, " he said, after identifying Georgie's boxof cigarettes, and being rather puzzled by a bulge in Georgie's pocket. "You'll be looking in some time this morning, perhaps. "

Georgie had not been quite sure that he would (for he was very busyowing to the arrival of his sisters, and the necessity of going to MrHolroyd's, in order that that artist might accurately match the shadeof his hair with a view to the expensive toupet), but the mention ofthe arrival of the Mozart now decided him. He intended anyhow before hewent home for lunch to stroll past The Hurst, and see if he did nothear--to adopt a mixed metaphor--the sound of the diligent practice ofthat classical morsel going on inside. Probably the soft pedal would bedown, but he had marvellously acute hearing, and he would be very muchsurprised if he did not hear the recognisable chords, and even moresurprised if, when they came to practise the piece together, Lucia didnot give him to understand that she was reading it for the first time. He had already got a copy, and had practised his part last night, butthen he was in the superior position of not having a husband who wouldinadvertently tell on him! Meantime it was of the first importance toget that particular shade of purple silk that had none of that"tarsome" magenta-tint in it. Meantime also, it was of even greaterimportance to observe the movements of Riseholme. 

Just opposite was the village green, and as nobody was quite close tohim Georgie put on his spectacles, which he could whisk off in amoment. It was these which formed that bulge in his pocket whichPeppino had noticed, but the fact of his using spectacles at all was asecret that would have to be profoundly kept for several years yet. Butas there was no one at all near him, he stealthily adjusted them on hissmall straight nose. The morning train from town had evidently come in, for there was a bustle of cabs about the door of the Ambermere Arms, and a thing that thrilled him to the marrow was the fact that LadyAmbermere's motor was undoubtedly among them. That must surely meanthat Lady Ambermere herself was here, for when poor thin Miss Lyall, her companion, came in to Riseholme to do shopping, or transact suchbusiness as the majestic life at The Hall required, she always came onfoot, or in very inclement weather in a small two-wheeled cart like ahip-bath. At this moment, steeped in conjecture, who should appear, walking stiffly, with her nose in the air, as if suspecting, and notchoosing to verify, some faint unpleasant odour, but Lady Ambermereherself, coming from the direction of The Hurst. .. . Clearly she musthave got there after Peppino had left, or he would surely havementioned the fact that Lady Ambermere had been at The Hurst, if she_had_ been at The Hurst. It is true that she was only coming fromthe direction of The Hurst, but Georgie put into practice, in hismental processes Darwin's principle, that in order to observe usefully, you must have a theory. Georgie's theory was that Lady Ambermere hadbeen at The Hurst just for a minute or two, and hastily put hisspectacles in his pocket. With the precision of a trained mind he alsoformed the theory that some business had brought Lady Ambermere intoRiseholme, and that taking advantage of her presence there, she hadprobably returned a verbal answer to Lucia's invitation to hergarden-party, which she would have received by the first post thismorning. He was quite ready to put his theory to the test when LadyAmbermere had arrived at the suitable distance for his convenientlyobserving her, and for taking off his hat. She always treated him likea boy, which he liked. The usual salutation passed. 

"I don't know where my people are, " said Lady Ambermere majestically. "Have you seen my motor?"

"Yes, dear lady, it's in at your own arms, " said Georgie brightly. "Happy motor!"

If Lady Ambermere unbent to anybody, she unbent to Georgie. He was ofquite good family, because his mother had been a Bartlett and a secondcousin of her deceased husband. Sometimes when she talked to Georgieshe said "we, " implying thereby his connection with the aristocracy, and this gratified Georgie nearly as much as did her treatment of himas being quite a boy still. It was to him, as a boy still, that sheanswered. 

"Well, the happy motor, you little rascal, must come to my arms insteadof being at them, " she said with the quick wit for which Riseholmepronounced her famous. "Fancy being able to see my motor at thatdistance. Young eyes!"

It was really young spectacles, but Georgie did not mind that. In fact, he would not have corrected the mistake for the world. 

"Shall I run across and fetch it for you?" he asked. 

"In a minute. Or whistle on your fingers like a vulgar street boy, "said Lady Ambermere. "I'm sure you know how to. "

Georgie had not the slightest idea, but with the courage of youth, presuming, with the prudence of middle-age, that he would not really becalled upon to perform so unimaginable a feat, he put two fingers up tohis mouth. 

"Here goes then!" he said, greatly daring. (He knew perfectly well thatthe dignity of Lady Ambermere would not permit rude vulgar whistling, of which he was hopelessly incapable, to summon her motor. She made afeint of stopping her ears with her hands. )

"Don't do anything of the kind, " she said. "In a minute you shall walkwith me across to the Arms, but tell me this first. I have just been tosay to our good Mrs Lucas that very likely I will look in at hergarden-party on Friday, if I have nothing else to do. But who is thiswonderful creature she is expecting? Is it an Indian conjurer? If so, Ishould like to see him, because when Ambermere was in Madras I rememberone coming to the Residency who had cobras and that sort of thing. Itold her I didn't like snakes, and she said there shouldn't be any. Infact, it was all rather mysterious, and she didn't at present know ifhe was coming or not. I only said, 'No snakes: I insist on no snakes. '"

Georgie relieved her mind about the chance of there being snakes, andgave a short _precis_ of the ascertained habits of the Guru, laying special stress on his high-caste. 

"Yes, some of these Brahmins are of very decent family, " admitted LadyAmbermere. "I was always against lumping all dark-skinned peopletogether and calling them niggers. When we were at Madras I was famedfor my discrimination. "

They were walking across the green as Lady Ambermere gave vent to theseliberal sentiments, and Georgie even without the need of his spectaclescould see Peppino, who had spied Lady Ambermere from the door of themarket-gardener's, hurrying down the street, in order to get a wordwith her before "her people" drove her back to The Hall. 

"I came into Riseholme today to get rooms at the Arms for OlgaBracely, " she observed. 

"The prima-donna?" asked Georgie breathless with excitement. 

"Yes; she is coming to stay at the Arms for two nights with MrShuttleworth. "

"Surely--" began Georgie. 

"No, it is all right, he is her husband, they were married last week, "said Lady Ambermere. "I should have thought that Shuttleworth was agood enough name, as the Shuttleworths are cousins of the late lord, but she prefers to call herself Miss Bracely. I don't dispute her rightto call herself what she pleases: far from it, though who the Bracelyswere, I have never been able to discover. But when George Shuttleworthwrote to me saying that he and his wife were intending to stay here fora couple of days, and proposing to come over to The Hall to see me, Ithought I would just look in at the Arms myself, and see that they werepromised proper accommodation. They will dine with me tomorrow. I havea few people staying, and no doubt Miss Bracely will sing afterwards. My Broadwood was always considered a remarkably fine instrument. It wasvery proper of George Shuttleworth to say that he would be in theneighbourhood, and I daresay she is a very decent sort of woman. "

They had come to the motor by this time--the rich, the noble motor, asMr Pepys would have described it--and there was poor Miss Lyall hungwith parcels, and wearing a faint sycophantic smile. This miserablespinster, of age so obvious as to be called not the least uncertain, was Lady Ambermere's companion, and shared with her the glories of TheHall, which had been left to Lady Ambermere for life. She was providedwith food and lodging and the use of the cart like a hip-bath when LadyAmbermere had errands for her to do in Riseholme, so what could a womanwant more? In return for these bounties, her only duty was to devoteherself body and mind to her patroness, to read the paper aloud, to setLady Ambermere's patterns for needlework, to carry the little Chinesedog under her arm, and wash him once a week, to accompany LadyAmbermere to church, and never to have a fire in her bedroom. She had amelancholy wistful little face: her head was inclined with a backwardslope on her neck, and her mouth was invariably a little open shewinglong front teeth, so that she looked rather like a roast hare sent upto table with its head on. Georgie always had a joke ready for MissLyall, of the sort that made her say, "Oh, Mr Pillson!" and caused herto blush. She thought him remarkably pleasant. 

Georgie had his joke ready on this occasion. 

"Why, here's Miss Lyall!" he said. "And what has Miss Lyall been doingwhile her ladyship and I have been talking? Better not ask, perhaps. "

"Oh, Mr Pillson!" said Miss Lyall, as punctually as a cuckoo clock whenthe hands point to the hour. 

Lady Ambermere put half her weight onto the step of the motor, causingit to creak and sway. 

"Call on the Shuttleworths, Georgie, " she said. "Say I told you to. Home!"

Miss Lyall effaced herself on the front seat of the motor, like a mousehiding in a corner, after Lady Ambermere had got in, and the footmanmounted onto the box. At that moment Peppino with his bag of bulbs, alittle out of breath, squeezed his way between two cabs by the side ofthe motor. He was just too late, and the motor moved off. It was veryimprobable that Lady Ambermere saw him at all. 

Georgie felt very much like a dog with a bone in his mouth, who onlywants to get away from all the other dogs and discuss it quietly. It issafe to say that never in twenty-four hours had so many exciting thingshappened to him. He had ordered a toupet, he had been looked on withfavour by a Guru, all Riseholme knew that he had had quite a longconversation with Lady Ambermere and nobody in Riseholme, excepthimself, knew that Olga Bracely was going to spend two nights here. Well he remembered her marvellous appearance last year at Covent Gardenin the part of Brunnhilde. He had gone to town for a rejuvenating visitto his dentist, and the tarsomeness of being betwixt and between hadbeen quite forgotten by him when he saw her awake to Siegfried's lineon the mountain-top. "_Das ist keine mann_, " Siegfried had said, and, to be sure, that was very clever of him, for she looked like someslim beardless boy, and not in the least like those great fat Fraus atBaireuth, whom nobody could have mistaken for a man as they bulged andheaved even before the strings of the breastplate were uncut by hissword. And then she sat up and hailed the sun, and Georgie felt for amoment that he had quite taken the wrong turn in life, when he settledto spend his years in this boyish, maidenly manner with his embroideryand his china-dusting at Riseholme. He ought to have been Siegfried. .. . He had brought a photograph of her in her cuirass and helmet, and oftenlooked at it when he was not too busy with something else. He had evenchampioned his goddess against Lucia, when she pronounced that Wagnerwas totally lacking in knowledge of dramatic effects. To be sure shehad never seen any Wagner opera, but she had heard the overture toTristram performed at the Queen's Hall, and if that was Wagner, well----

Already, though Lady Ambermere's motor had not yet completely vanishedup the street, Riseholme was gently closing in round him, in order todiscover by discreet questions (as in the game of Clumps) what he andshe had been talking about. There was Colonel Boucher with his twosnorting bull-dogs closing in from one side, and Mrs Weston in herbath-chair being wheeled relentlessly towards him from another, and thetwo Miss Antrobuses sitting playfully in the stocks, on the third, andPeppino at close range on the fourth. Everyone knew, too, that he didnot lunch till half past one, and there was really no reason why heshould not stop and chat as usual. But with the eye of the truegeneral, he saw that he could most easily break the surrounding cordonby going off in the direction of Colonel Boucher, because ColonelBoucher always said "Haw, hum, by Jove, " before he descended intocoherent speech, and thus Georgie could forestall him with "Goodmorning, Colonel, " and pass on before he got to business. He did notlike passing close to those slobbering bull-dogs, but something had tobe done . .. Next moment he was clear and saw that the other spies bytheir original impetus were still converging on each other and walkedbriskly down towards Lucia's house, to listen for any familiar noisesout of the Mozart trio. The noises were there, and the soft pedal wasdown just as he expected, so, that business being off his mind, hecontinued his walk for a few hundred yards more, meaning to make ashort circuit through fields, cross the bridge, over the happy streamthat flowed into the Avon, and regain his house by the door at thebottom of the garden. Then he would sit and think . .. The Guru, OlgaBracely . .. What if he asked Olga Bracely and her husband to dine, andpersuaded Mrs Quantock to let the Guru come? That would be three menand one woman, and Hermy and Ursy would make all square. Six for dinnerwas the utmost that Foljambe permitted. 

He had come to the stile that led into the fields, and sat there for amoment. Lucia's tentative melodies were still faintly audible, but soonthey stopped, and he guessed that she was looking out of the window. She was too great to take part in the morning spying that went on roundabout the Green, but she often saw a good deal from her window. Hewondered what Mrs Quantock was meaning to do. Apparently she had notpromised the Guru for the garden-party, or else Lady Ambermere wouldnot have said that Lucia did not know whether he was coming or not. Perhaps Mrs Quantock was going to run him herself, and grant himneither to Lucia nor Georgie. In that case he would certainly ask OlgaBracely and her husband to dine, and should he or should he not askLucia?

The red star had risen in Riseholme: Bolshevism was treading in itspeaceful air, and if Mrs Quantock was going to secrete her Guru, andset up her own standard on the strength of him, Georgie felt muchinclined to ask Olga Bracely to dinner, without saying anythingwhatever to Lucia about it, and just see what would happen next. Georgie was a Bartlett on his mother's side, and he played the pianobetter than Lucia, and he had twenty-four hours' leisure every day, which he could devote to being king of Riseholme. .. . His nature flaredup, burning with a red revolutionary flame, that was fed by his secretknowledge about Olga Bracely. Why should Lucia rule everyone with herrod of iron? Why, and again why?

Suddenly he heard his name called in the familiar alto, and there wasLucia in her Shakespeare's garden. 

"Georgino! Georgino mio!" she cried. "Gino!"

Out of mere habit Georgie got down from his stile, and tripped up theroad towards her. The manly seething of his soul's insurrection rebukedhim, but unfortunately his legs and his voice surrendered. Habit wasstrong. .. . 

"Amica!" he answered. "Buon Giorno. " ("And why do I say it in Italian?"he vainly asked himself. )

"Geordie, come and have ickle talk, " she said. "Me want 'oo wise man toadvise ickle Lucia. "

"What 'oo want?" asked Georgie, now quite quelled for the moment. 

"Lots-things. Here's pwetty flower for button-holie. Now tell me aboutblack man. Him no snakes have? Why Mrs Quantock say she thinks he nocome to poo' Lucia's party-garden?"

"Oh, did she?" asked Georgie relapsing into the vernacular. 

"Yes, oh, and by the way there's a parcel come which I think must bethe Mozart trio. Will you come over tomorrow morning and read it withme? Yes? About half-past eleven, then. But never mind that. "

She fixed him with her ready, birdy eye. 

"Daisy asked me to ask him, " she said, "and so to oblige poor Daisy Idid. And now she says she doesn't know if he'll come. What does thatmean? Is it possible that she wants to keep him to herself? She hasdone that sort of thing before, you know. "

This probably represented Lucia's statement of the said case about theWelsh attorney, and Georgie taking it as such felt rather embarrassed. Also that bird-like eye seemed to gimlet its way into his very soul, and divine the secret disloyalty that he had been contemplating. If shehad continued to look into him, he might not only have confessed to thegloomiest suspicions about Mrs Quantock, but have let go of his secretabout Olga Bracely also, and suggested the possibility of her and herhusband being brought to the garden-party. But the eye at this momentunscrewed itself from him again and travelled up the road. 

"There's the Guru, " she said. "Now we will see!"

Georgie, faint with emotion, peered out between the form of the peacockand the pine-apple on the yew-hedge, and saw what followed. Lucia wentstraight up to the Guru, bowed and smiled and clearly introducedherself. In another moment he was showing his white teeth andsalaaming, and together they walked back to The Hurst, where Georgiepalpitated behind the yew-hedge. Together they entered and Lucia's eyewore its most benignant aspect. 

"I want to introduce to you, Guru, " she said without a stumble, "agreat friend of mine. This is Mr Pillson, Guru; Guru, Mr Pillson. TheGuru is coming to tiffin with me, Georgie. Cannot I persuade you tostop?"

"Delighted!" said Georgie. "We met before in a sort of way, didn't we?"

"Yes, indeed. So pleased, " said the Guru. 

"Let us go in, " said Lucia, "It is close on lunch-time. "

Georgie followed, after a great many bowings and politenesses from theGuru. He was not sure if he had the makings of a Bolshevist. Lucia wasso marvellously efficient. 

Chapter FIVE

One of Lucia's greatnesses lay in the fact that when she found anybodyout in some act of atrocious meanness, she never indulged in any idlethreats of revenge: it was sufficient that she knew, and would takesuitable steps on the earliest occasion. Consequently when it appeared, from the artless conversation of the Guru at lunch that the perfidiousMrs Quantock had not even asked him whether he would like to go toLucia's garden party or not (pending her own decision as to what shewas meaning to do with him) Lucia received the information with theutmost good-humour, merely saying, "No doubt dear Mrs Quantock forgotto tell you, " and did not announce acts of reprisal, such as strikingDaisy off the list of her habitual guests for a week or two, just togive her a lesson. She even, before they sat down to lunch, telephonedover to that thwarted woman to say that she had met the Guru in thestreet, and they had both felt that there was some wonderful bond ofsympathy between them, so he had come back with her, and they were justsitting down to tiffin. She was pleased with the word "tiffin, " andalso liked explaining to Daisy what it meant. 

Tiffin was a great success, and there was no need for the Guru to visitthe kitchen in order to make something that could be eaten withoutstruggle. He talked quite freely about his mission here, and Lucia andGeorgie and Peppino who had come in rather late, for he had beenobliged to go back to the market-gardener's about the bulbs, listenedentranced. 

"Yes, it was when I went to my friend who keeps the book-shop, " hesaid, "that I knew there was English lady who wanted Guru, and I knew Iwas called to her. No luggage, no anything at all: as I am. Such a kindlady, too, and she will get on well, but she will find some of thepostures difficult, for she is what you call globe, round. "

"Was that postures when I saw her standing on one leg in the garden?"asked Georgie, "and when she sat down and tried to hold her toes?"

"Yes, indeed, quite so, and difficult for globe. But she has whitesoul. "

He looked round with a smile. 

"I see many white souls here, " he said. "It is happy place, when thereare white souls, for to them I am sent. "

This was sufficient: in another minute Lucia, Georgie and Peppino wereall accepted as pupils, and presently they went out into the garden, where the Guru sat on the ground in a most complicated attitude whichwas obviously quite out of reach of Mrs Quantock. 

"One foot on one thigh, other foot on other thigh, " he explained. "Andthe head and back straight: it is good to meditate so. "

Lucia tried to imagine meditating so, but felt that any meditation sowould certainly be on the subject of broken bones. 

"Shall I be able to do that?" she asked. "And what will be the effect?"

"You will be light and active, dear lady, and ah--here is other dearlady come to join us. "

Mrs Quantock had certainly made one of her diplomatic errors on thisoccasion. She had acquiesced on the telephone in her Guru going totiffin with Lucia, but about the middle of her lunch, she had beenunable to resist the desire to know what was happening at The Hurst. She could not bear the thought that Lucia and her Guru were togethernow, and her own note, saying that it was uncertain whether the Guruwould come to the garden party or not filled her with the most uneasyapprehensions. She would sooner have acquiesced in her Guru going tofifty garden-parties, where all was public, and she could keep an eyeand a control on him, rather than that Lucia should have "enticed himin, "--that was her phrase--like this to tiffin. The only consolationwas that her own lunch had been practically inedible, and Robert hadlanguished lamentably for the Guru to return, and save his stomach. Shehad left him glowering over a little mud and water called coffee. Robert, at any rate, would welcome the return of the Guru. 

She waddled across the lawn to where this harmonious party was sitting, and at that moment Lucia began to feel vindictive. The calm of victorywhich had permeated her when she brought the Guru in to lunch, withoutany bother at all, was troubled and broken up, and darling Daisy'snote, containing the outrageous falsity that the Guru would notcertainly accept an invitation which had never been permitted to reachhim at all, assumed a more sinister aspect. Clearly now Daisy hadintended to keep him to herself, a fact that she already suspected andhad made a hostile invasion. 

"Guru, dear, you naughty thing, " said Mrs Quantock playfully, after theusual salutations had passed, "why did you not tell your Chela youwould not be home for tiffin?"

The Guru had unwound his legs, and stood up. 

"But see, beloved lady, " he said, "how pleasant we all are! Take nottoo much thought, when it is only white souls who are together. "

Mrs Quantock patted his shoulder. 

"It is all good and kind Om, " she said. "I send out my message of love. There!"

It was necessary to descend from these high altitudes, and Luciaproceeded to do so, as in a parachute that dropped swiftly at first, and then floated in still air. 

"And we're making such a lovely plan, dear Daisy, " she said. "The Guruis going to teach us all. Classes! Aren't you?"

He held his hands up to his head, palms outwards, and closed his eyes. 

"I seem to feel call, " he said. "I am sent. Surely the Guides tell methere is a sending of me. What you call classes? Yes? I teach: youlearn. We all learn. .. . I leave all to you. I will walk a little wayoff to arbour, and meditate, and then when you have arranged, you willtell Guru, who is your servant. Salaam! Om!"

With the Guru in her own house, and with every intention to annex him, it was no wonder that Lucia took the part of chairman in this meetingthat was to settle the details of the esoteric brotherhood that was tobe formed in Riseholme. Had not Mrs Quantock been actually present, Luciain revenge for her outrageous conduct about the garden-party invitationwould probably have left her out of the classes altogether, but with hersitting firm and square in a basket chair, that creaked querulously asshe moved, she could not be completely ignored. But Lucia took the leadthroughout, and suggested straightaway that the smoking-parlour would bethe most convenient place to hold the classes in. 

"I should not think of invading your house, dear Daisy, " she said, "andhere is the smoking-parlour which no one ever sits in, so quiet andpeaceful. Yes. Shall we consider that settled, then?"

She turned briskly to Mrs Quantock. 

"And now where shall the Guru stay?" she said. "It would be too bad, dear Daisy, if we are all to profit by his classes, that you shouldhave all the trouble and expense of entertaining him, for in your sweetlittle house he must be a great inconvenience, and I think you saidthat your husband had given up his dressing room to him. "

Mrs Quantock made a desperate effort to retain her property. 

"No inconvenience at all, " she said, "quite the contrary in fact, dear. It is delightful having him, and Robert regards him as a most desirableinmate. "

Lucia pressed her hand feelingly. 

"You and your husband are too unselfish, " she said. "Often have I said, 'Daisy and Mr Robert are the most unselfish people I know. ' Haven't I, Georgie? But we can't permit you to be so crowded. Your only spareroom, you know, _and_ your husband's dressing room! Georgie, Iknow you agree with me; we must not permit dear Daisy to be sounselfish. "

The bird-like eye produced its compelling effect on Georgie. So short atime ago he had indulged in revolutionary ideas, and had contemplatedhaving the Guru and Olga Bracely to dinner, without even asking Lucia:now the faint stirrings of revolt faded like snow in summer. He knewquite well what Lucia's next proposition would be: he knew, too, thathe would agree to it. 

"No, that would never do, " he said. "It is simply trespassing on MrsQuantock's good-nature, if she is to board and lodge him, while heteaches all of us. I wish I could take him in, but with Hermy and Ursycoming tonight, I have as little room as Mrs Quantock. "

"He shall come here, " said Lucia brightly, as if she had just thatmoment thought of it. "There are Hamlet and Othello vacant"--all herrooms were named after Shakespearian plays--"and it will not be theleast inconvenient. Will it, Peppino? I shall really like having himhere. Shall we consider that settled, then?"

Daisy made a perfectly futile effort to send forth a message of love toall quarters of the compass. Bitterly she repented of having evermentioned her Guru to Lucia: it had never occurred to her that shewould annex him like this. While she was cudgelling her brains as tohow she could arrest this powerful offensive, Lucia went sublimely on. 

"Then there's the question of what we shall pay him, " she said. "DearDaisy tells us that he scarcely knows what money is, but I for onecould never dream of profiting by his wisdom, if I was to pay nothingfor it. The labourer is worthy of his hire, and so I suppose theteacher is. What if we pay him five shillings each a lesson: that willmake a pound a lesson. Dear me! I shall be busy this August. Now howmany classes shall we ask him to give us? I should say six to beginwith, if everybody agrees. One every day for the next week exceptSunday. That is what you all wish? Yes? Then shall we consider thatsettled?"

Mrs Quantock, still impotently rebelling, resorted to the most direweapon in her armoury, namely, sarcasm. 

"Perhaps, darling Lucia, " she said, "it would be well to ask my Guru ifhe has anything to say to your settlings. England is a free countrystill, even if you happen to have come from India. "

Lucia had a deadlier weapon than sarcasm, which was the apparentunconsciousness of there having been any. For it is no use plunging adagger into your enemy's heart, if it produces no effect whatever onhim. She clapped her hands together, and gave her peal of silverylaughter. 

"What a good idea!" she said. "Then you would like me to go and tellhim what we propose? Just as you like. I will trot away, shall I, andsee if he agrees. Don't think of stirring, dear Daisy, I know how youfeel the heat. Sit quiet in the shade. As you know, I am a realsalamander, the sun is never _troppo caldo_ for me. "

She tripped off to where the Guru was sitting in that wonderfulposition. She had read the article in the encyclopaedia about Yogaright through again this morning, and had quite made up her mind, asindeed her proceedings had just shown, that Yoga was, to put itirreverently, to be her August stunt. He was still so deep inmeditation that he could only look dreamily in her direction as sheapproached, but then with a long sigh he got up. 

"This is beautiful place, " he said. "It is full of sweet influences andI have had high talk with Guides. "

Lucia felt thrilled. 

"Ah, do tell me what they said to you, " she exclaimed. 

"They told me to follow where I was led: they said they would settleeverything for me in wisdom and love. "

This was most encouraging, for decidedly Lucia had been settling forhim, and the opinion of the Guides was thus a direct personaltestimonial. Any faint twitchings of conscience (they were of the veryfaintest) that she had grabbed dear Daisy's property were once and forever quieted, and she proceeded confidently to unfold the settlementsof wisdom and love, which met with the Guru's entire approval. He shuthis eyes a moment and breathed deeply. 

"They give peace and blessing, " he said. "It is they who ordered thatit should be so. Om!"

He seemed to sink into profound depths of meditation, and Lucia hurriedback to the group she had left. 

"It is all too wonderful, " she said. "The Guides have told him thatthey were settling everything for him in wisdom and love, so we may besure we were right in our plans. How lovely to think that we have beenguided by them! Dear Daisy, how wonderful he is! I will send across forhis things, shall I, and I will have Hamlet and Othello made ready forhim!"

Bitter though it was to part with her Guru, it was impious to rebelagainst the ordinances of the Guides, but there was a trace of humanresentment in Daisy's answer. 

"Things!" she exclaimed. "He hasn't got a thing in the world. Everymaterial possession chains us down to earth. You will soon come tothat, darling Lucia. "

It occurred to Georgie that the Guru had certainly got a bottle ofbrandy, but there was no use in introducing a topic that might lead todiscord, and indeed, even as Lucia went indoors to see about Hamlet andOthello, the Guru himself having emerged from meditation, joined themand sat down by Mrs Quantock. 

"Beloved lady, " he said, "all is peace and happiness. The Guides havespoken to me so lovingly of you, and they say it is best your Gurushould come here. Perhaps I shall return later to your kind house. Theysmiled when I asked that. But just now they send me here: there is moreneed of me here, for already you have so much light. "

Certainly the Guides were very tactful people, for nothing could havesoothed Mrs Quantock so effectually as a message of that kind, whichshe would certainly report to Lucia when she returned from seeing aboutHamlet and Othello. 

"Oh, do they say I have much light already, Guru, dear?" she asked. "That is nice of them. "

"Surely they said it, and now I shall go back to your house, and leavesweet thoughts there for you. And shall I send sweet thoughts to thehome of the kind gentleman next door?"

Georgie eagerly welcomed this proposition, for with Hermy and Ursycoming that evening, he felt that he would have plenty of use for sweetthoughts. He even forebore to complete in his own mind the conjecturethat was forming itself there, namely, that though the Guru would beleaving sweet thoughts for Mrs Quantock, he would probably be takingaway the brandy bottle for himself. But Georgie knew he was only tooapt to indulge In secret cynicisms and perhaps there was no brandy totake away by this time . .. And lo and behold, he was being cynicalagain. 

The sun was still hot when, half an hour afterwards, he got into theopen cab which he had ordered to take him to the station to meet Hermyand Ursy, and he put up his umbrella with its white linen cover, toshield him from it. He did not take the motor, because either Hermy orUrsy would have insisted on driving it, and he did not choose to puthimself in their charge. In all the years that he had lived atRiseholme, he never remembered a time when social events--"work, " hecalled it--had been so exciting and varied. There were Hermy and Ursycoming this evening, and Olga Bracely and her husband (Olga Bracely andMr Shuttleworth sounded vaguely improper: Georgie rather liked that)were coming tomorrow, and there was Lucia's garden-party the day after, and every day there was to be a lesson from the Guru, so that God aloneknew when Georgie would have a moment to himself for his embroidery orto practise the Mozart trio. But with his hair chestnut-coloured to thevery roots, and his shining nails, and his comfortable boots, he feltextremely young and fit for anything. Soon, under the influence of thenew creed with its postures and breathings, he would feel younger andmore vigorous yet. 

But he wished that it had been he who had found this pamphlet onEastern philosophies, which had led Mrs Quantock to make the inquiriesthat had resulted in the epiphany of the Guru. Of course when onceLucia had heard about it, she was certain to constitute herself headand leader of the movement, and it was really remarkable how completelyshe had done that. In that meeting in the garden just now she had justsailed through Mrs Quantock as calmly as a steamer cuts through thewaters of the sea, throwing her off from her penetrating bows like aspent wave. But baffled though she was for the moment, Georgie had beenaware that Mrs Quantock seethed with revolutionary ideas: she deeplyresented this confiscation of what was certainly her property, thoughshe was impotent to stop it, and Georgie knew just what she felt. Itwas all very well to say that Lucia's schemes were entirely in accordwith the purposes of the Guides. That might be so, but Mrs Quantockwould not cease to think that she had been robbed. .. . 

Yet nothing mattered if all the class found themselves getting youngand active and loving and excellent under this tuition. It was thatnotion which had taken such entire command of them all, and for hispart Georgie did not really care who owned the Guru, so to speak, ifonly he got the benefit of his teachings. For social purposes Lucia hadannexed him, and doubtless with him in the house she could get littleinstructions and hints that would not count as a lesson, but after all, Georgie had still got Olga Bracely to himself, for he had not breatheda word of her advent to Lucia. He felt rather like one who, whenrevolutionary ideas are in the air, had concealed a revolver in hispocket. He did not formulate to himself precisely what he was going todo with it, but it gave him a sense of power to know it was there. 

The train came in, but he looked in vain for his sisters. They haddistinctly said they were arriving by it, but in a couple of minutes itwas perfectly clear that they had done nothing of the kind, for theonly person who got out was Mrs Weston's cook, who as all the worldknew went into Brinton every Wednesday to buy fish. At the rear of thetrain, however, was an immense quantity of luggage being taken out, which could not all be Mrs Weston's fish, and indeed, even at thatdistance there was something familiar to Georgie about a very largegreen hold-all which was dumped there. Perhaps Hermy and Ursy hadtravelled in the van, because "it was such a lark, " or for some othertomboy reason, and he went down the platform to investigate. There werebags of golf clubs, and a dog, and portmanteaux, and even as theconviction dawned on him that he had seen some of these objects before, the guard, to whom Georgie always gave half-a-crown when he travelledby this train, presented him with a note scrawled in pencil. It ran--

 "Dearest Georgie, "It was such a lovely day that when we got to Paddington Ursy and I decided to bicycle down instead, so for a lark we sent our things on, and we may arrive tonight, but probably tomorrow. Take care of Tiptree: and give him plenty of jam. He loves it. 

 "Yours, "HERMY. 

 "P. S. --Tipsipoozie doesn't really bite: it's only his fun. "

Georgie crumpled up this odious epistle, and became aware thatTipsipoozie, a lean Irish terrier, was regarding him with peculiardisfavour, and shewing all his teeth, probably in fun. In pursuance ofthis humorous idea, he then darted towards Georgie, and would have beenextremely funny, if he had not been handicapped by the bag of golf-clubsto which he was tethered. As it was, he pursued him down the platform, towing the clubs after him, till he got entangled in them and fell down. 

Georgie hated dogs at any time, though he had never hated one so muchas Tipsipoozie, and the problems of life became more complicated thanever. Certainly he was not going to drive back with Tipsipoozie in hiscab, and it became necessary to hire another for that abominable houndand the rest of the luggage. And what on earth was to happen when hearrived home, if Tipsipoozie did not drop his fun and become serious?Foljambe, it is true, liked dogs, so perhaps dogs liked her . .. "But itis most tarsome of Hermy!" thought Georgie bitterly. "I wonder what theGuru would do. " There ensued a very trying ten minutes, in which thestation-master, the porters, Georgie and Mrs Weston's maid all calledTipsipoozie a good dog as he lay on the ground snapping promiscuouslyat those who praised him. Eventually a valiant porter picked up the bagof clubs, and by holding them out in front of him at the extreme lengthof his arms, in the manner of a fishing rod, with Tipsipoozie on ashort chain at the other end of the bag, like a savage fish, cursingand swearing, managed to propel him into the cab, and there was anotherhalf-crown gone. Georgie thereupon got into his cab and sped homewardsin order to arrive there first, and consult with Foljambe. Foljambeusually thought of something. 

Foljambe came out at the noise of the arriving wheels and Georgieexplained the absence of his sisters and the advent of an atrociousdog. 

"He's very fierce, " he said, "but he likes jam. "

Foljambe gave that supreme smile which sometimes Georgie resented. Nowhe hailed it, as if it was "an angel-face's smile. "

"I'll see to him, sir, " she said. "I've brought up your tea. "

"But you'll take care, Foljambe won't you?" he asked. 

"I expect he'd better take care, " returned the intrepid woman. 

Georgie, as he often said, trusted Foljambe completely, which mustexplain why he went into his drawing-room, shut the door, and lookedout of the window when the second cab arrived. She opened the door, puther arms inside, and next moment emerged again with Tipsipoozie on theend of the chain, making extravagant exhibitions of delight. Then toGeorgie's horror, the drawing-room door opened, and in came Tipsipooziewithout any chain at all. Rapidly sending a message of love in alldirections like a S. O. S. Call, Georgie put a small chair in front ofhim, to shield his legs. Tipsipoozie evidently thought it was a game, and hid behind the sofa to rush out again from ambush. 

"Just got snappy being tied to those golf-clubs, " remarked Foljambe. 

But Georgie, as he put some jam into his saucer, could not helpwondering whether the message of love had not done it. 

He dined alone, for Hermy and Ursy did not appear, and had a greatpolishing of his knick-knacks afterwards, while waiting for them. Noone ever felt anxious at the non-arrival of those sisters, for theyalways turned up from their otter-hunting or their golf sooner orlater, chiefly later, in the highest spirits at the larks they had had, with amazingly dirty hands and prodigious appetite. But when twelveo'clock struck, he decided to give up all idea of their appearance thatnight, and having given Tipsipoozie some more jam and a comfortable bedin the woodshed, he went upstairs to his room. Though he knew it wasstill possible that he might be roused by wild "Cooees!" and showers ofgravel at his window, and have to come down and minister to their grossappetites, the prospect seemed improbable and he soon went to sleep. 

Georgie awoke with a start some hours later, wondering what haddisturbed him. There was no gravel rattling on his window, no violentringing of bicycle bells, nor loud genial shouts outraging the decorouscalm of Riseholme, but certainly he had heard something. Next moment, the repeated noise sent his heart leaping into his throat, for quitedistinctly he heard a muffled sound in the room below, which heinstantly diagnosed with fatal certainty as burglars. The first emotionthat mingled itself with the sheer terror, was a passionate regret thatHermy and Ursy had not come. They would have thought it tremendouslarks, and would have invented some wonderful offensive with fire-ironsand golf-clubs and dumb-bells. Even Tipsipoozie, the lately-abhorred, would have been a succour in this crisis, and why, oh why, had notGeorgie had him to sleep in his bedroom instead of making him cosy inthe woodshed? He would have let Tipsipoozie sleep on his lovely bluequilt for the remainder of his days, if only Tipsipoozie could havebeen with him now, ready to have fun with the burglar below. As it was, the servants were in the attics at the top of the house, Dicky sleptout, and Georgie was all alone, with the prospect of having to defendhis property at risk of his life. Even at this moment, as he sat up inbed, blanched with terror, these miscreants might be putting histreasure into their pockets. The thought of the Faberge cigarette case, and the Louis XVI snuff box, and the Queen Anne toy-porringer which hehad inherited all these years, made even life seem cheap, for lifewould be intolerable without them, and he sprang out of bed, groped forhis slippers, since until he had made a plan it was wiser not to shew alight, and shuffled noiselessly towards the door. 

Chapter SIX

The door-handle felt icy to fingers already frozen with fright, but hestood firmly grasping it, ready to turn it noiselessly when he hadquite made up his mind what to do. The first expedient that suggesteditself with an overpowering sweetness of relief, was that of lockinghis door, going back to bed again, and pretending that he had heardnothing. But apart from the sheer cowardice of that, which he did notmind so much, as nobody else would ever know his guilt, the thought ofthe burglar going off quite unmolested with his property wasintolerable. Even if he could not summon up enough courage to getdownstairs with his life and a poker in his hand, he must at least givethem a good fright. They had frightened him, and so he would frightenthem. They should not have it all their own way, and if he decided notto attack them (or him) single-handed, he could at least thump on thefloor, and call out "Burglars!" at the top of his voice, or shout"Charles! Henry! Thomas!" as if summoning a bevy of stalwart footmen. The objection to this course, however, would be that Foljambe orsomebody else might hear him, and in this case, if he did not then godownstairs to mortal combat, the knowledge of his cowardice would bethe property of others beside himself. .. . And all the time hehesitated, they were probably filling their pockets with his dearestpossessions. 

He tried to send out a message of love, but he was totally unable to doso. 

Then the little clock in his mantelpiece struck two, which was amiserable hour, sundered so far from dawn. 

Though he had lived through years of agony since he got out of bed, theactual passage of time, as he stood frozen to the door-handle, was butthe duration of a few brief seconds, and then making a tremendous callon his courage he felt his way to his fireplace, and picked up thepoker. The tongs and shovel rattled treacherously, and he hoped thathad not been heard, for the essence of his plan (though he had yet noidea what that plan was) must be silence till some awful surprise brokeupon them. If only he could summon the police, he could come rushingdownstairs with his poker, as the professional supporters of the lawgained an entrance to his house, but unfortunately the telephone wasdownstairs, and he could not reasonably hope to carry on a conversationwith the police station without being overheard by the burglars. 

He opened his door with so masterly a movement that there was no soundeither from the hinges nor from the handle as he turned it, and peeredout. The hall below was dark, but a long pencil of light came from thedrawing room, which showed where the reckless brutes must be, andthere, too, alas! was his case of treasures. Then suddenly he heard thesound of a voice, speaking very low, and another voice answered it. Atthat Georgie's heart sank, for this proved that there must be at leasttwo burglars, and the odds against him were desperate. After that camea low, cruel laugh, the unmistakable sound of the rattle of knives andforks, and the explosive uncorking of a bottle. At that his heart sankeven lower yet, for he had read that cool habitual burglars always hadsupper before they got to work, and therefore he was about to deal witha gang of professionals. Also that explosive uncorking clearlyindicated champagne, and he knew that they were feasting on his best. And how wicked of them to take their unhallowed meal in hisdrawing-room, for there was no proper table there, and theywould be making a dreadful mess over everything. 

A current of cool night air swept up the stairs, and Georgie saw thepanel of light from the open drawing-room door diminish in width, andpresently the door shut with a soft thud, leaving him in the dark. Atthat his desperation seemed pressed and concentrated into a moment offictitious courage, for he unerringly reasoned that they had left thedrawing-room window open, and that perhaps in a few moments now theywould have finished their meal and with bulging pockets would stepforth unchallenged into the night. Why had he never had bolts put onhis shutters, like Mrs Weston, who lived in nightly terror of burglars?But it was too late to think of that now, for it was impossible to askthem to step out till he had put bolts up, and then when he was readybegin again. 

He could not let them go gorged with his champagne and laden with histreasures without reprisals of some sort, and keeping his thoughtssteadily away from revolvers and clubs and sandbags, walked straightdownstairs, threw open the drawing-room door, and with his pokergrasped in his shaking hand, cried out in a faint, thin voice:

"If you move I shall fire. "

There was a moment of dead silence, and a little dazzled with the lighthe saw what faced him. 

At opposite ends of his Chippendale sofa sat Hermy and Ursy. Hermy hadher mouth open and held a bun in her dirty hands. Ursy had her mouthshut and her cheeks were bulging. Between them was a ham and a loaf ofbread, and a pot of marmalade and a Stilton cheese, and on the floorwas the bottle of champagne with two brimming bubbling tea cups full ofwine. The cork and the wire and the tin-foil they had, with some showof decency, thrown into the fireplace. 

Hermy put down her bun, and gave a great shout of laughter; Ursy'smouth was disgustingly full and she exploded. Then they lay backagainst the arms of the sofa and howled. 

Georgie was very much vexed. 

"Upon my word, Hermy!" he said, and then found it was not nearly astrong enough expression. And in a moment of ungovernable irritation hesaid:

"Damn it all!"

Hermy showed signs of recovery first, and as Georgie came back aftershutting the window, could find her voice, while Ursy collected smallfragments of ham and bread which she had partially chewed. 

"Lord! What a lark!" she said. "Georgie, it's _the_ most rippinglark. "

Ursy pointed to the poker. 

"He'll fire if we move, " she cried. "Or poke the fire, was it?"

"Ask another!" screamed Hermy. "Oh, dear, he thought we were burglars, and came down with a poker, brave boy! It's positively the limit. Havea drink, Georgie. "

Suddenly her eyes grew round and awestruck, and pointing with herfinger to Georgie's shoulder, she went off into another yell oflaughter. 

"Ursy! His hair!" she said, and buried her face in a soft cushion. 

Naturally Georgie had not put his hair in order when he camedownstairs, for nobody thinks about things like that when he is goingto encounter burglars single-handed, and there was his bald pate andhis long tresses hanging down one side. 

It was most annoying, but when an irremediable annoyance has absolutelyoccurred, the only possible thing for a decent person to do is to takeit as lightly as possible. Georgie rose gallantly to the occasion, gavea little squeal and ran from the room. 

"Down again presently, " he called out, and had a heavy fall on thestairs, as he went up to his bedroom. There he had a short argumentwith himself. It was possible to slam his door, go to bed, and be verypolite in the morning. But that would never do: Hermy and Ursy wouldhave a joke against him forever. It was really much better to share inthe joke, identifying himself with it. So he brushed his hair in theorthodox fashion, put on a very smart dressing-gown, and came trippingdownstairs again. 

"My dears, what fun!" he said. "Let's all have supper. But let's moveinto the dining-room, where there's a table, and I'll get anotherbottle of wine, and some glasses, and we'll bring Tipsipoozie in. Younaughty girls, fancy arriving at a time like this. I suppose your planwas to go very quietly to bed, and come down to breakfast in themorning, and give me a fine surprise. Tell me about it now. "

So presently Tipsipoozie was having his marmalade, which did just aswell as jam, and they were all eating slices off the ham, and stuffingthem into split buns. 

"Yes, we thought we might as well do it all in one go, " said Hermy, "and it's a hundred and twenty miles, if it's a yard. And then it wasso late when we got here, we thought we wouldn't disturb you, speciallyas the drawing-room window wasn't bolted. "

"Bicycles outside, " said Ursy, "they'll just have to be out at grasstill morning. Oh, Tipsi-ipsi-poozie-woozy, how is you? Hope he behavedlike the good little Tiptree that he is, Georgie?"

"O yes, we made great friends, " said Georgie sketchily. "He was wee bitupset at the station, but then he had a good tea with his Uncle Georgieand played hide and seek. "

Rather rashly, Georgie made a face at Tiptree, the sort of face whichamuses children. But it didn't amuse Tiptree, who made another face, inwhich teeth played a prominent part. 

"Fool-dog, " said Hermy, carelessly smacking him across the nose. "Always hit him if he shows his teeth, Georgie. Pass the fizz. "

"Well, so we got through the drawing-room window, " continued Ursy, "andgolly, we were hungry. So we foraged, and there we were! Jolly pluckyof you, Georgie, to come down and beard us. "

"Real sport, " said Hermy. "And how's old Fol-de-rol-de-ray? Why didn'tshe come down and fight us, too?"

Georgie guessed that Hermy was making a humourous allusion to Foljambe, who was the one person in Riseholme whom his two sisters seemed to holdin respect. Ursy had once set a booby-trap for Georgie, but the mixedbiscuits and Brazil nuts had descended on Foljambe instead. On thatoccasion Foljambe, girt about in impenetrable calm, had behaved as ifnothing had happened and trod on biscuits and Brazil nuts without asmile, unaware to all appearance that there was anything whatevercrunching and exploding beneath her feet. That had somehow quelled thetwo, who, as soon as she left the room again, swept up the mess, andput the uninjured Brazil nuts back into the dessert dish. .. . It wouldnever do if Foljambe lost her prestige and was alluded to by someoutrageously slangy name. 

"If you mean Foljambe, " said Georgie icily, "it was because I didn'tthink it worth while to disturb her. "

In spite of their ride, the indefatigable sisters were up early nextmorning, and the first thing Georgie saw out of his bathroom window wasthe pair of them practising lifting shots over the ducking pond on thegreen till breakfast was ready. He had given a short account of lastnight's adventure to Foljambe when she called him, omitting the episodeabout his hair, and her disapproval was strongly indicated by hersilence then, and the studied contempt of her manner to the sisterswhen they came in to breakfast. 

"Hullo, Foljambe, " said Hermy. "We had a rare lark last night. "

"So I understand, miss, " said Foljambe. 

"Got in through the drawing-room window, " said Hermy, hoping to makeher smile. 

"Indeed, miss, " said Foljambe. "Have you any orders for the car, sir?"

"Oh, Georgie, may we run over to the links this morning?" asked Hermy. "Mayn't Dickie-bird take us there?"

She glanced at Foljambe to see whether this brilliant wit afforded herany amusement. Apparently it didn't. 

"Tell Dicky to be round at half-past ten, " said Georgie. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Hurrah!" said Ursy. "Come, too, Foljambe, and we'll have a three-ballmatch. "

"No, thank you, miss, " said Foljambe, and sailed from the room, lookingdown her nose. 

"Golly, what an iceberg!" said Hermy when the door was quite shut. 

Georgie was not sorry to have the morning to himself, for he wanted tohave a little quiet practice at the Mozart trio, before he went over toLucia's at half-past eleven, the hour when she had arranged to runthrough it for the first time. He would also have time to do a fewposturing exercises before the first Yoga-class, which was to takeplace in Lucia's smoking-parlour at half-past twelve. That would make apretty busy morning, and as for the afternoon, there would be sure tobe some callers, since the arrival of his sisters had been expected, and after that he had to go to the Ambermere Arms for his visit to OlgaBracely. .. . And what was he to do about her with regard to Lucia?Already he had been guilty of disloyalty, for Lady Ambermere had warnedhim of the prima-donna's arrival yesterday, and he had not instantlycommunicated that really great piece of news to Lucia. Should he makesuch amends as were in his power for that omission, or, greatly daring, should he keep her to himself, as Mrs Quantock so fervently wished thatshe had done with regard to the Guru? After the adventure of lastnight, he felt he ought to be able to look any situation in the face, but he found himself utterly unable to conceive himself manly and erectbefore the bird-like eyes of the Queen, if she found out that OlgaBracely had been at Riseholme for the day of her garden-party, and thatGeorgie, knowing it and having gone to see her, had not informed theCourt of that fact. 

The spirit of Bolshevism, the desire to throw off all authority and actindependently, which had assailed him yesterday returned now withredoubled force. If he had been perfectly certain that he would not befound out, there is no doubt he would have kept it from her, and yet, after all, what was the glory of going to see Olga Bracely (and perhapseven entertaining her here) if all Riseholme did not turn green withjealousy? Moreover there was every chance of being found out, for LadyAmbermere would be at the garden party tomorrow, and she would be sureto wonder why Lucia had not asked Olga. Then it would come out thatLucia didn't know of that eminent presence, and Lady Ambermere would beastonished that Georgie had not told her. Thus he would be in thesituation which his imagination was unable to face, although he hadthrown the drawing room door open in the middle of the night, andannounced that he would fire with his poker. 

No; he would have to tell Lucia, when he went to read the Mozart triowith her for the first time, and very likely she would call on OlgaBracely herself, though nobody had asked her to, and take all the windout of Georgie's sails. Sickening though that would be, he could notface the alternative, and he opened his copy of the Mozart trio with asigh. Lucia _did_ push and shove, and have everything her own way. Anyhow he would _not_ tell her that Olga and her husband weredining at The Hall tonight; he would not even tell her that herhusband's name was Shuttleworth, and Lucia might make a dreadfulmistake, and ask Mr and Mrs Bracely. That would be jam for Georgie, and he could easily imagine himself saying to Lucia, "My dear, I thoughtyou must have known that she had married Mr Shuttleworth and kept hermaiden name! How tarsome for you! They are so touchy about that sort ofthing. "

Georgie heard the tinkle of the treble part of the Mozart trio (Luciaalways took the treble, because it had more tune in it, though shepretended that she had not Georgie's fine touch, which made the basseffective) as he let himself in to Shakespeare's garden a few minutesbefore the appointed time. Lucia must have seen him from the window, for the subdued noise of the piano ceased even before he had got as faras Perdita's garden round the sundial, and she opened the door to him. The far-away look was in her eyes, and the black undulations of hairhad encroached a little on her forehead, but, after all, others besidesLucia had trouble with their hair, and Georgie only sympathized. 

"Georgino mio!" she said. "It is all being so wonderful. There seems anew atmosphere about the house since my Guru came. Something holy andpeaceful; do you not notice it?"

"Delicious!" said Georgie, inhaling the pot-pourri. "What is he doingnow?"

"Meditating, and preparing for our class. I do hope dear Daisy will notbring in discordant elements. "

"Oh, but that's not likely, is it?" said Georgie. "I thought he saidshe had so much light. "

"Yes, he did. But now he is a little troubled about her, I think. Shedid not want him to go away from her house, and she sent over here forsome silk pyjamas belonging to her husband, which he thought she hadgiven him. But Robert didn't think so at all. The Guru brought themacross yesterday after he had left good thoughts for her in her house. But it was the Guides who wished him to come here; they told him sodistinctly. It would have been very wrong of me not to do as theysaid. "

She gave a great sigh. 

"Let us have an hour with Mozart, " she said "and repel all thought ofdiscord. My Guru says that music and flowers are good influences forthose who are walkers on the Way. He says that my love for both of themwhich I have had all my life will help me very much. "

For one moment the mundane world obtruded itself into the calm peace. 

"Any news in particular?" she asked. "I saw you drive back from thestation yesterday afternoon, for I happened to be looking out of thewindow, in a little moment of leisure--the Guru says I work too hard, by the way--and your sisters were not with you. And yet there were twocabs, and a quantity of luggage. Did they not come?"

Georgie gave a respectably accurate account of all that had happened, omitting the fact of his terror when first he awoke, for that was notreally a happening, and had had no effect on his subsequentproceedings. He also omitted the adventure about his hair, for that wasquite extraneous, and said what fun they had all had over their supperat half past two this morning. "

"I think you were marvellously brave, Georgie, " said she, "and mostgood natured. You must have been sending out love, and so were full ofit yourself, and that casts out fear. "

She spread the music open. 

"Anything else?" she asked. 

Georgie took his seat and put his rings on the candle-bracket. 

"Oh yes, " he said, "Olga Bracely, the prima-donna, you know, and herhusband are arriving at the Ambermere Arms this afternoon for a coupleof days. "

The old fire kindled. 

"No!" exclaimed Lucia. "Then they'll be here for my party tomorrow. Fancy if she would come and sing for us! I shall certainly leave cardstoday, and write later in the evening, asking her. "

"I have been asked to go and see her, " said Georgie, not proudly. 

The music rest fell down with a loud slap, but Lucia paid no attention. 

"Let us go together then, " she said. "Who asked you to call on her?"

"Lady Ambermere, " said he. 

"When she was in here yesterday? She never mentioned it to me. But shewould certainly think it very odd of me not to call on friends of hers, and be polite to them. What time shall we go?"

Georgie made up his mind that wild horses should not drag from him thefact that Olga's husband's name was Shuttleworth, for here was Luciagrabbing at his discovery, just as she had grabbed at Daisy's discoverywho was now "her Guru. " She should call him Mr Bracely then. 

"Somewhere about six, do you think?" said he, inwardly raging. 

He looked up and distinctly saw that sharp foxy expression crossLucia's face, which from long knowledge of her he knew to betoken thatshe had thought of some new plan. But she did not choose to reveal itand re-erected the music-rest. 

"That will do beautifully, " she said. "And now for our heavenly Mozart. You must be patient with me, Georgie, for you know how badly I read. _Caro!_ How difficult it looks. I am frightened! Lucia never sawsuch a dwefful thing to read!"

And it had been those very bars, which Georgie had heard through theopen window just now. 

"Georgie's is much more dwefful!" he said, remembering the double sharpthat came in the second bar. "Georgie fwightened too at reading it. O-o-h, " and he gave a little scream. "Cattivo Mozart to wite anythingso dwefful diffy!"

It was quite clear at the class this morning that though the pupilswere quite interested in the abstract messages of love which they wereto shoot out in all directions, and in the atmosphere of peace withwhich they were to surround themselves, the branch of the subject whichthrilled them to the marrow was the breathing exercises and contortionswhich, if persevered in, would give them youth and activity, faultlessdigestions and indefatigable energy. They all sat on the floor, andstopped up alternate nostrils, and held their breath till Mrs Quantockgot purple in the face, and Georgie and Lucia red, and expelled theirbreath again with sudden puffs that set the rushes on the floorquivering, or with long quiet exhalations. Then there were certainpostures to be learned, in one of which, entailing the bending of thebody backwards, two of Georgie's trouser-buttons came off with a sharpsnap and he felt the corresponding member of his braces, thus violentlyreleased, spring up to his shoulder. Various other embarrassing noisesissued from Lucia and Daisy that sounded like the bursting of stringsand tapes, but everybody pretended to hear nothing at all, or coveredup the report of those explosions with coughings and clearings of thethroat. But apart from these discordances, everything was fairlyharmonious indeed, so far from Daisy introducing discords, she wore afixed smile, which it would have been purely cynical to call superior, when Lucia asked some amazingly simple question with regard to Om. Shesighed too, at intervals, but these sighs were expressive of nothingbut patience and resignation, till Lucia's ignorance of the mostelementary doctrines was enlightened, and though she rather pointedlylooked in any direction but hers, and appeared completely unaware ofher presence, she had not, after all, come here to look at Lucia, butto listen to her own (whatever Lucia might say) Guru. 

At the end Lucia, with her far-away look, emerged, you might say, in adazed condition from hearing about the fastness of Thibet, where theGuru had been in commune with the Guides, whose wisdom he interpretedto them. 

"I feel such a difference already, " she said dreamily. "I feel as if Icould never be hasty or worried any more at all. Don't you experiencethat, dear Daisy?"

"Yes, dear, " said she. "I went through all that at my first lesson. Didn't I, Guru dear?"

"I felt it too, " said Georgie, unwilling not to share in thesebenefits, and surreptitiously tightening his trouser-strap tocompensate for the loss of buttons. "And am I to do that swayingexercise before every meal?"

"Yes, Georgie, " said Lucia, saving her Guru from the trouble ofanswering. "Five times to the right and five times to the left and thenfive times backwards and forwards. I felt so young and light just nowwhen we did it that I thought I was rising into the air. Didn't you, Daisy?"

Daisy smiled kindly. 

"No, dear, that is levitation, " she said, "and comes a very long wayon. "

She turned briskly towards her Guru. 

"Will you tell them about that time when you levitated at PaddingtonStation?" she said. "Or will you keep that for when Mrs Lucas getsrather further on? You must be patient, dear Lucia; we all have to gothrough the early stages, before we get to that. "

Mrs Quantock spoke as if she was in the habit of levitating herself, and it was but reasonable, in spite of the love that was swirling aboutthem all, that Lucia should protest against such an attitude. Humility, after all, was the first essential to progress on the Way. 

"Yes, dear, " she said. "We will tread these early stages together, andencourage each other. "

Georgie went home, feeling also unusually light and hungry, for he hadpaid special attention to the exercise that enabled him to have hisliver and digestive organs in complete control, but that did notprevent him from devoting his mind to arriving at that which had madeLucia look so sharp and foxy during their conversation about OlgaBracely. He felt sure that she was meaning to steal a march on him, andshe was planning to draw first blood with the prima-donna, and, aslikely as not, claim her for her own, with the same odious greed as shewas already exhibiting with regard to the Guru. All these years Georgiehad been her faithful servant and coadjutor; now for the first time thespirit of independence had begun to seethe within him. The scales werefalling from his eyes, and just as he turned into shelter of hismulberry-tree, he put on his spectacles to see how Riseholme wasgetting on without him to assist at the morning parliament. His absenceand Mrs Quantock's would be sure to evoke comment, and since the Yogaclasses were always to take place at half-past twelve, the fact thatthey would never be there, would soon rise to the level of afirst-class mystery. It would, of course, begin to leak out thatthey and Lucia were having a course of Eastern philosophy that madeits pupils young and light and energetic, and there was a sensation!

Like all great discoveries, the solution of Lucia's foxy look broke onhim with the suddenness of a lightning-flash, and since it had beensettled that she should call for him at six, he stationed himself inthe window of his bath room, which commanded a perfect view of thevillage green and the entrance to the Ambermere Arms at five. He hadbrought up with him a pair of opera-glasses, with the intention oftaking them to bits, so he had informed Foljambe, and washing theirlenses, but he did not at once proceed about this, merely holding themready to hand for use. Hermy and Ursy had gone back to their golf againafter lunch, and so callers would be told that they were all out. Thushe could wash the lenses, when he chose to do so, uninterrupted. 

The minutes passed on pleasantly enough, for there was plenty going on. The two Miss Antrobuses frisked about the green, jumping over thestocks in their playful way, and running round the duck-pond in theeternal hope of attracting Colonel Boucher's attention to their prettynimble movements. For many years past, they had tried to gain Georgie'sserious attention, without any result, and lately they had turned toColonel Boucher. There was Mrs Antrobus there, too, with her ham-likeface and her ear-trumpet, and Mrs Weston was being pushed round andround the asphalt path below the elms in her bath-chair. She hatedgoing slow, and her gardener and his boy took turns with her during herhour's carriage exercise, and propelled her, amid streams ofperspiration, at a steady four miles an hour. As she passed MrsAntrobus she shouted something at her, and Mrs Antrobus returned herreply, when next she came round. 

Suddenly all these interesting objects vanished completely fromGeorgie's ken, for his dark suspicions were confirmed, and there wasLucia in her "Hightum" hat and her "Hightum" gown making her graciousway across the green. She had distinctly been wearing one of the"Scrub" this morning at the class, so she must have changed afterlunch, which was an unheard of thing to do for a mere stroll on thegreen. Georgie knew well that this was no mere stroll; she was on herway to pay a call of the most formal and magnificent kind. She did notdeviate a hair-breadth from her straight course to the door of theArms, she just waggled her hand to Mrs Antrobus, blew a kiss to hersprightly daughters, made a gracious bow to Colonel Boucher, who stoodup and took his hat off, and went on with the inexorability of themarch of destiny, or of fate knocking at the door in the immortal fifthsymphony. And in her hand she carried a note. Through his glassesGeorgie could see it quite plainly, and it was not a little folded-upsheet, such as she commonly used, but a square thick envelope. Shedisappeared in the Arms and Georgie began thinking feverishly. A greatdeal depended on how long she stopped there. 

A few little happenings beguiled the period of waiting. Mrs Westondesisted from her wild career, and came to anchor on the path justopposite the door into the Arms, while the gardener's boy sankexhausted on to the grass. It was quite easy to guess that she proposedto have a chat with Lucia when she came out. Similarly the MissAntrobuses who had paid no attention to her at all before, ceased fromtheir pretty gambolings, and ran up to talk to her, so they wanted aword too. Colonel Boucher, a little less obviously, began throwingsticks into the ducking-pond for his bull-dog (for Lucia would beobliged to pass the ducking-pond) and Mrs Antrobus examined the stocksvery carefully, as if she had never seen them before. 

And then, before a couple of minutes had elapsed Lucia came out. Shehad no longer the note in her hand, and Georgie began taking hisopera-glasses to bits, in order to wash the lenses. For the presentthey had served their purpose. "She has left a note on Olga Bracely, "said Georgie quite aloud, so powerful was the current of his thoughts. Then as a corollary came the further proposition which might beconsidered as proved, "But she had not seen her. "

The justice of this conclusion was soon proved, for Lucia had hardlydisengaged herself from the group of her subjects, and traversed thegreen on her way back to her house, when a motor passed Georgie'sbathroom window, closely followed by a second; both drew up at theentrance to the Ambermere Arms. With the speed of a practised opticianGeorgie put his opera glass together again, and after looking throughthe wrong end of it in his agitation was in time to see a man get outof the second car, and hold the carriage-door open for the occupants ofthe first. A lady got out first, tall and slight in figure, who stoodthere unwinding her motor veil, then she turned round again, and with athump of his heart that surprised Georgie with its violence, he beheldthe well-remembered features of his Brunnhilde. 

Swiftly he passed into his bedroom next door, and arrayed himself inhis summer Hightums; a fresh (almost pearly) suit of white duck, amauve tie with an amethyst pin in it, socks, tightly braced up, ofprecisely the same colour as the tie, so that an imaginative beholdermight have conjectured that on this warm day the end of his tie hadmelted and run down his legs; buckskin shoes with tall slim heels and astraw hat completed this pretty Hightum. He had meant to wear it forthe first time at Lucia's party tomorrow, but now, after her meanness, she deserved to be punished. All Riseholme should see it before shedid. 

The group round Mrs Weston's chair was still engaged in conversationwhen Georgie came up, and he casually let slip what a bore it was topay calls on such a lovely day, but he had promised to visit Miss OlgaBracely, who had just arrived. So there was another nasty one forLucia, since now all Riseholme would know of her actual arrival beforeLucia did. 

"And who, Mr Georgie, " asked Mrs Antrobus presenting her trumpet to himin the manner in which an elephant presents its trunk to receive abun, "who was that with her?"

"Oh, her husband, Mr Shuttleworth, " said Georgie. "They have just beenmarried, and are on their honeymoon. " And if that was not anotherstaggerer for Lucia, it is diffy, as Georgie would say, to know what astaggerer is. For Lucia would be last of all to know that this was notMr Bracely. 

"And will they be at Mrs Lucas's party tomorrow?" asked Mrs Weston. 

"Oh, does she know them?" asked Georgie. 

"Haw, haw, by Jove!" began Colonel Boucher. "Very handsome woman. Envyyou, my boy. Pity it's their honeymoon. Haw!"

Mrs Antrobus's trumpet was turned in his direction at this moment, andshe heard these daring remarks. 

"Naughty!" she said, and Georgie, the envied, passed in into the inn. 

He sent in his card, on which he had thought it prudent to write "FromLady Ambermere, " and was presently led through into the garden behindthe building. There she was, tall and lovely and welcoming, and heldout a most cordial hand. 

"How kind of you to come and see us, " she said. "Georgie, this is MrPillson. My husband. "

"How do you do, Mr Shuttleworth, " said Georgie to shew he knew, thoughhis own Christian name had given him quite a start. For the moment hehad almost thought she was speaking to him. 

"And so Lady Ambermere asked you to come and see us?" Olga went on. "Ithink that was much kinder of her than to ask us to dinner. I hategoing out to dinner in the country almost as much as I hate not goingout to dinner in town. Besides with that great hook nose of hers, I'malways afraid that in an absent moment I might scratch her on the headand say 'Pretty Polly. ' Is she a great friend of yours, Mr Pillson? Ihope so, because everyone likes his best friends being laughed at. "

Up till that moment Georgie was prepared to indicate that LadyAmbermere was the hand and he the glove. But evidently that would notimpress Olga in the least. He laughed in a most irreverent mannerinstead. 

"Don't let us go, " she went on. "Georgie, can't you send a telegramsaying that we have just discovered a subsequent engagement and thenwe'll ask Mr Pillson to show us round this utterly adorable place, anddine with us afterwards. That would be so much nicer. Fancy livinghere! Oh, and do tell me something, Mr Pillson. I found a note when Iarrived half an hour ago, from Mrs Lucas asking me and Mr Shuttleworthto go to a garden-party tomorrow. She said she didn't even hope that Ishould remember her, but would we come. Who is she? Really I don'tthink she can remember me very well, if she thinks I am Mrs Bracely. Georgie says I must have been married before, and that I have causedhim to commit bigamy. That's pleasant conversation for a honeymoon, isn't it? Who is she?"

"Oh, she's quite an old friend of mine, " said Georgie, "though I neverknew she had met you before; I'm devoted to her. "

"Extremely proper. But now tell me this, and look straight in my face, so that I shall know if you're speaking the truth. Should I enjoymyself more wandering about this heavenly place than at her gardenparty?"

Georgie felt that poor Lucia was really punished enough by this time. 

"You will give her a great deal of pleasure if you go, " he began. 

"Ah, that's not fair; it is hitting below the belt to appeal tounselfish motives. I have come here simply to enjoy myself. Go on; eyesfront. "

The candour and friendliness of that beautiful face gave Georgie animpulse of courage. Besides, though no doubt in fun, she had alreadysuggested that it would be much nicer to wander about with him and dinetogether than spend the evening among the splendours of The Hall. 

"I've got a suggestion, " he said. "Will you come and lunch with mefirst, and we'll stroll about, and then we can go to the garden-party, and if you don't like it I'll take you away again?"

"Done!" she said. "Now don't you try to get out of it, because myhusband is a witness. Georgie, give me a cigarette. "

In a moment Riseholme-Georgie had his cigarette-case open. 

"Do take one of mine, " he said, "I'm Georgie too. "

"You don't say so! Let's send it to the Psychical Research, or whoeverthose people are who collect coincidences and say it's spooks. And amatch please, one of you Georgies. Oh, how I should like never to seethe inside of an Opera House again. Why mayn't I grow on the walls of agarden like this, or better still, why shouldn't I have a house andgarden of my own here, and sing on the village-green, and ask forhalfpennies? Tell me what happens here! I've always lived in town sincethe time a hook-nosed Hebrew, rather like Lady Ambermere, took me outof the gutter. "

"My dear!" said Mr Shuttleworth. 

"Well, out of an orphan-school at Brixton and I would much prefer thegutter. That's all about my early life just now, because I am keepingit for my memoirs which I shall write when my voice becomes a littlemore like a steam-whistle. But don't tell Lady Ambermere, for she wouldhave a fit, but say you happen to know that I belong to the SurreyBracelys. So I do; Brixton is on the Surrey side. Oh, my dear, look atthe sun. It's behaving like the best sort of Claude! Heile Sonne!"

"I heard you do that last May, " said Georgie. 

"Then you heard a most second-rate performance, " said she. "But reallybeing unlaced by that Thing, that great fat profligate beery Prussianwas almost too much for me. And the duet! But it was very polite of youto come, and I will do better next time. Siegfried! Brunnhilde!Siegfried! Miaou! Miaou! Bring on the next lot of cats! DarlingGeorgie, wasn't it awful? And you had proposed to me only the daybefore. "

"I was absolutely enchanted, " said Riseholme-Georgie. 

"Yes, but then you didn't have that Thing breathing beer into yourinnocent face. " Georgie rose; the first call on a stranger inRiseholme was never supposed to last more than half an hour, howevermuch you were enjoying it, and never less, however bored you might be, and he felt sure he had already exceeded this. 

"I must be off, " he said. "Too delightful to think that you and MrShuttleworth will come to lunch with me tomorrow. Half past one, shallwe say?"

"Excellent; but where do you live?"

"Just across the green. Shall I call for you?" he asked. 

"Certainly not. Why should you have that bother?" she said. "Ah, let mecome with you to the inn-door, and perhaps you will shew me fromthere. "

She passed through the hall with him, and they stood together in thesight of all Riseholme, which was strolling about the green at this asat most other hours. Instantly all faces turned round in theirdirection, like so many sunflowers following the sun, while Georgiepointed out his particular mulberry tree. When everybody had had a goodlook, he raised his hat. 

_"A domani_ then, " she said. "So many thanks. "

And quite distinctly she kissed her hand to him as he turned away. .. . 

"So she talks Italian too, " thought Georgie, as he dropped littlecrumbs of information to his friends on his way to his house. _"Domani, _ that means tomorrow. Oh yes; she was meaning lunch. "

It is hardly necessary to add that on the table in his hall there wasone of Lucia's commoner kinds of note, merely a half sheet foldedtogether in her own manner. Georgie felt that it was scarcely morenecessary to read it, for he felt quite sure that it contained someexcuse for not coming to his house at six in order to call on Mr andMrs Bracely. But he gave a glance at it before he rolled it up in aball for Tipsipoozie to play with, and found its contents to beprecisely what he expected, the excuse being that she had not done herpractising. But the post-script was interesting, for it told him thatshe had asked Foljambe to give her his copy of Siegfried. .. . 

Georgie strolled down past The Hurst before dinner. Mozart was silentnow, but there came out of the open windows the most amazing hash ofsound, which he could just recognise as being the piano arrangement ofthe duet between Brunnhilde and Siegfried at the end. He would havebeen dull indeed if he had not instantly guessed what _that_signified. 

Chapter SEVEN

A fresh thrill went through an atmosphere already super-saturated withexcitement, when next morning all Lucia's friends who had been biddento the garden-party (Tightum) were rung up on the telephone andinformed that the party was Hightum. That caused a good deal of extrawork, because the Tightum robes had to be put away again, and theHightums aired and brushed and valetted. But it was well worth it, forRiseholme had not the slightest difficulty in conjecturing that OlgaBracely was to be among the guests. For a cultured and artistic centrethe presence of a star that blazed so regally in the very zenith of thefirmament of art absolutely demanded the Hightum which the presence ofpoor Lady Ambermere (though she would not have liked that) had beenpowerless to bring out of their cupboards. And these delightfulanticipations concentrated themselves into one rose-coloured point ofjoy, when no less than two independent observers, without collusion, saw the piano-tuner either entering or leaving The Hurst, while athird, an ear-witness, unmistakably heard the tuning of the pianoactually going on. It was thus clear to all penetrating minds that OlgaBracely was going to sing. It was further known that something wasgoing on between her and Georgie, for she had been heard by one MissAntrobus to ask for Georgie's number at the telephone in the AmbermereArms. Etiquette forbade her actually to listen to what passed, but shecould not help hearing Olga laugh at something (presumably) thatGeorgie said. He himself took no part in the green-parliament thatmorning, but had been seen to dash into the fruiterer's and out again, before he went in a great hurry to The Hurst, shortly aftertwelve-thirty. Classes on Eastern philosophy under the tuition ofMrs Quantock's Indian, were already beginning to be hinted at, buttoday in the breathless excitement about the prima-donna nobody caredabout that; they might all have been taking lessons in cannibalism, and nobody would have been interested. Finally about one o'clock oneof the motors in which the party had arrived yesterday drew up at thedoor of the Ambermere Arms, and presently Mr Bracely, --no, dear, MrShuttleworth got in and drove off alone. That was very odd conduct in alately-married bridegroom, and it was hoped that there had been noquarrel. 

Olga had, of course, been given no directions as to Hightum or Tightum, and when she walked across to Georgie's house shortly after half-pastone only Mrs Weston who was going back home to lunch at top speed wasaware that she was dressed in a very simple dark blue morning frock, that would almost have passed for Scrub. It is true that it wasexceedingly well cut, and had not the look of having been rolled up ina ball and hastily ironed out again that usually distinguished Scrub, and she also wore a string of particularly fine pearls round her neck, the sort of ornament that in Riseholme would only be seen in anevening Hightum, even if anybody in Riseholme had owned such things. Lucia, not long ago had expressed the opinion that jewels were vulgarexcept at night, and for her part she wore none at all, preferring oneGreek cameo of uncertain authenticity. 

Georgie received Olga alone, for Hermy and Ursy were not yet back fromtheir golf. 

"It is good of you to let me come without my husband, " she said. "Hisexcuse is toothache and he has driven into Brinton--"

"I'm very sorry, " said Georgie. 

"You needn't be, for now I'll tell you his real reason. He thought thatif he lunched with you he would have to come on to the garden party, and that he was absolutely determined not to do. You were the thin edgeof the wedge, in fact. My dear, what a delicious house. All panelled, with that lovely garden behind. And croquet--may we play croquet afterlunch? I always try to cheat, and if I'm found out I lose my temper. Georgie won't play with me, so I play with my maid. "

"This Georgie will, " said he. 

"How nice of him! And do you know what we did this morning, before thetoothache didn't begin? We went all over that house three doors away, which is being done up. It belongs to the proprietor of the AmbermereArms. And--oh, I wonder if you can keep a secret?"

"Yes, " said Georgie. He probably had never kept one yet, but there wasno reason why he shouldn't begin now. 

"Well, I'm absolutely determined to buy it, only I daren't tell myhusband until I've done it. He has an odd nature. When a thing is done, settled, and there's no help for it, he finds it adorable, but he alsofinds fatal objections to doing it at all, if he is consulted about itbefore it is done. So not a word! I shall buy it, make the garden, furnish it, down to the minutest detail, and engage the servants, andthen he'll give it me for a birthday present. I had to tell somebody orI should burst. "

Georgie nearly swooned with fervour and admiration. 

"But what a perfect plan!" he said. "You really like our littleRiseholme?"

"It's not a question of liking; it's a mere detail of not being able todo without it. I don't like breathing, but I should die if I didn't. Iwant some delicious, hole-in-the-corner, lazy backwater sort of place, where nothing ever happens, and nobody ever does anything. I've beenobserving all the morning, and your habits are adorable. Nothing everhappens here, and that will precisely suit me, when I get away from mywork. "

Georgie was nearer swooning than ever at this. He could hardly believehis ears when she talked of Riseholme being a lazy backwater, andalmost thought she must have been speaking of London, where, as Luciahad acutely observed, people sat in the Park all morning and talked ofeach other's affairs, and spent the afternoon at picture-galleries, anddanced all night. There was a flippant, lazy existence. 

But she was far too much absorbed in her project to notice hisstupefaction. 

"But if you breathe a word, " she said, "everything will be spoilt. Ithas to burst on Georgie. Oh, and there's another mulberry-tree in yourgarden as well as the one in front. It's too much. "

Her eyes followed Foljambe out of the door. 

"And I know your parlour-maid is called Paravicini or Grosvenor, " shesaid. 

"No, she is Foljambe, " said Georgie. 

She laughed. 

"I knew I was right, " she said. "It's practically the same thing. Oh, and last night! I never had such an awful evening. Why didn't you warnme, and my husband should have had toothache then instead of thismorning. "

"What happened?" asked he. 

"But the woman's insane, that Ambermere parrot, I mean. Georgie and Iwere ten minutes late, and she had a jet tiara on, and why did she askus to dine at a quarter to eight, if she meant a quarter to eight, instead of saying half-past-seven? They were actually going into dinnerwhen we came, a mournful procession of three moth-eaten men and threewhiskered women. Upon which the procession broke up, as if we had beenthe riot act, and was arranged again, as a funeral procession, andGeorgie with Lady Ambermere was the hearse. We dined in the familyvault and talked about Lady Ambermere's pug. She talked about you, too, and said you were of county family, and that Mrs Lucas was a verydecent sort of woman, and that she herself was going to look in on hergarden-party today. Then she looked at my pearls, and asked if theywere genuine. So I looked at her teeth, and there was no need to askabout them. "

"Don't miss out a moment, " said Georgie greedily. 

"Whenever Lady Ambermere spoke, everybody else was silent. I didn'tgrasp that at first, for no one had explained the rules. So she stoppedin the middle of a sentence and waited till I had finished. Then shewent on again, precisely where she had left off. Then when we came intothe drawing room, the whiskered ladies and I, there a little woman likea mouse sitting there, and nobody introduced her. So naturally I wentto talk to her, before which the great parrot said, 'Will you kindlyfetch my wool-work, Miss Lyall?' and Miss Lyall took a sack out of thecorner, and inside was the sacred carpet. And then I waited for somecoffee and cigarettes, and I waited, and I waited, and I am waitingstill. The Parrot said that coffee always kept her awake, and that waswhy. And then Georgie came in with the others, and I could see by hisface that he hadn't had a cigarette either. It was then half-past nine. And then each man sat down between two women, and Pug sat in the middleand looked for fleas. Then Lady Ambermere got up, and came across thecharmed circle to me. She said: 'I hope you have brought your music, Mrs Shuttleworth. Kindly open the piano, Miss Lyall. It was alwaysconsidered a remarkably line instrument. '"

Olga waved the fork on which was impaled a piece of the pineapple whichGeorgie had purchased that morning at the fruiterer's. 

"The stupendous cheek!" she said. "I thought it must be a joke, andlaughed with the greatest politeness. But it wasn't! You'll hardlybelieve it, but it wasn't! One of the whiskered ones said, That will bea great treat, ' and another put on the face that everyone wears atconcerts. And I was so stunned that I sang, and Lady Ambermere beattime, and Pug barked. "

She pointed a finger at Georgie. 

"Never till the day of judgment, " she said, "when Lady Ambermeregnashes her beautiful teeth for ever and ever, will I set foot in thathouse again. Nor she in my house. I will set fire to it sooner. There!My dear, what a good lunch you have given me. May we play croquet atonce?"

Lucia's garden-parties were scheduled from four to seven andhalf-an-hour before the earliest guest might be expected, she wascasting an eagle eye over the preparations which today were on a verysumptuous scale. The bowls were laid out in the bowling alley, notbecause anybody in Hightums dresses was the least likely to risk thestooping down and the strong movements that the game entailed, butbecause bowls were Elizabethan. Between the alley and the lawn nearerto the house was a large marquee, where the commoner crowd--though nocrowd could be really common in Riseholme--would refresh itself. Buteven where none are common there may still be degrees in rarity, and bythe side of this general refreshment room was a smaller tent carpetedwith Oriental rugs, and having inside it some half-dozen chairs, and twoseats which can only be described as thrones, for Lady Ambermere or OlgaBracely, while Lucia's Guru, though throneworthy, would very kindly sitin one of his most interesting attitudes on the floor. This tent wasdesigned only for high converse, and common guests (if they were good)would be led into it and introduced to the great presences, while forthe refreshment of the presences, in intervals of audience, a moreelaborate meal, with peaches and four sorts of sandwiches was laid inthe smoking-parlour. Thus those guests for whom audiences were notprovided, could have the felicity of seeing the great ones pass acrossthe lawn on their excursions for food, and possibly trip over thecroquet hoops, which had been left up to give an air of naturalness tothe lawn. In the smoking-parlour an Elzevir or two were leftnegligently open, as if Mr and Mrs Lucas had been reading the works ofPersius and Juvenal when the first guests arrived. In the music-room, finally, which was not usually open on these occasions, there werefresh flowers: the piano, too, was open, and if you had not seen theElzevirs in the smoking-parlour, it would have been reasonable for theearly guests, if they penetrated here, to imagine that Mrs Lucas hadbeen running over the last act of Siegfried a minute before. 

In this visit of final inspection Lucia was accompanied by her Guru, for he was part of the domestic _dramatis personae_, and shewanted him to be "discovered" in the special tent. She pointed out thesite of his proposed "discovery" to him. 

"Probably the first person I shall bring in here, " she said, "will beLady Ambermere, for she is noted for her punctuality. She is so anxiousto see you, and would it not be exciting if you found you had metbefore? Her husband was Governor of Madras, and she spent many years inIndia. "

"Madras, gracious lady?" asked the Guru. "I, too, know Madras: thereare many dark spirits in Madras. And she was at English Residency?"

"Yes. She says Mr Kipling knows nothing about India. You and she willhave much to talk about. I wish I could sit on the floor, too, andlisten to what you say to each other. "

"It will be great treat, " said the Guru thoughtfully, "I love all wholove my wonderful country. "

Suddenly he stopped, and put his hands up to his head, palms outward. 

"There are wonderful vibrations today, " he said. "All day I feel thatsome word is on way from the Guides, some great message of light. "

"Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if it came to you in the middle of mygarden party?" said Lucia enthusiastically. 

"Ah, gracious lady, the great word comes not so. It comes always insolitude and quiet. Gracious lady knows that as well as Guru. "

Pure Guruism and social pre-eminence struggled together in Lucia. Guruism told her that she ought to be ecstatic at the idea of a greatmessage coming and should instantly smile on his desire for solitudeand quiet, while social pre-eminence whispered to her that she hadalready dangled the presence of a high-caste mystic from Benares beforethe eyes of Lady Ambermere, who only came from Madras. On the otherhand Olga Bracely was to be an even more resplendent guest than eitherLady Ambermere or the Guru; surely Olga Bracely was enough to set thisparticular garden-party on the giddiest of pinnacles. And an awfulconsequence lurked as a possibility if she attempted to force her Gurunot to immune himself in solitude and quiet, which was that conceivablyhe might choose to go back to the pit whence he was digged, namely thehouse of poor Daisy Quantock. The thought was intolerable, for with himin her house, she had seen herself as dispenser of Eastern Mysteries, and Mistress of Omism to Riseholme. In fact the Guru was her Auguststunt; it would never do to lose him before the end of July, and rageto see all Riseholme making pilgrimages to Daisy. There was athin-lipped firmness, too, about him at this moment: she felt thatunder provocation he might easily defy or desert her. She felt she hadto yield, and so decided to do so in the most complete manner. 

"Ah, yes, " she said. "I know how true that is. Dear Guru, go up toHamlet: no one will disturb you there. But if the message comes throughbefore Lady Ambermere goes away, promise me you will come back. "

He went back to the house, where the front door was already open toadmit Lady Ambermere, who was telling "her people" when to come backfor her, and fled with the heels of his slippers tapping on the oakstairs up to Hamlet. Softly he shut out the dark spirits from Madras, and made himself even more secure by turning the key in his door. Itwould never do to appear as a high caste Brahmin from Benares beforeanyone who knew India with such fatal intimacy, for he might notentirely correspond with her preconceived notions of such a person. 

Lady Ambermere's arrival was soon followed by that of other guests, andinstead of going into the special tent reserved for the lions, she tookup a commanding position in the middle of the lawn, where she couldexamine everybody through her tortoiseshell handled lorgnette. She keptPeppino by her, who darted forward to shake hands with his wife'sguests, and then darted back again to her. Poor Miss Lyall stood behindher chair, and from time to time as ordered, gave her a cape, or put upher parasol, or adjusted her footstool for her, or took up Pug or puthim down as her patroness required. Most of the time Lady Ambermerekept up a majestic monologue. 

"You have a pretty little garden here, Mr Lucas, " she said, "thoughperhaps inconveniently small. Your croquet lawn does not look to me thefull size, and then there is no tennis-court. But I think you have alittle strip of grass somewhere, which you use for bowls, have you not?Presently I will walk around with you and see your domain. Put Pug downagain, please, Miss Lyall, and let him run about. See, he wants to playwith one of those croquet balls. Put it in motion for him, and he willrun with it. Bless me, who is that coming up the path at such atremendous speed in a bath-chair? Oh, I see, it is Mrs Weston. Sheshould not go as fast as that. If Pug was to stray on to the path hewould be run over. Better pick up Pug again, Miss Lyall, till she hasgone by. And here is Colonel Boucher. If he had brought his bull-dogs, I should have asked him to take them away again. I should like a cup oftea, Miss Lyall, with plenty of milk in it, and not too strong. Youknow how I like my tea. And a biscuit or something for Pug, with alittle cream in a saucer or anything that's handy. "

"Won't you come into the smoking-parlour, and have tea there, LadyAmbermere?" asked Peppino. 

"The smoking-parlour?" asked she. "How very strange to lay tea in asmoking-room. "

Peppino explained that nobody had in all probability used thesmoking-parlour to smoke in for five or six years. 

"Oh, if that is so, I will come, " said she. "Better bring Pug along, too, Miss Lyall. There is a croquet-hoop. I am glad I saw it or Ishould have stumbled over it perhaps. Oh, this is the smoking-parlour, is it? Why do you have rushes on the floor? Put Pug in a chair, MissLyall, or he may prick his paws. Books, too, I see. That one lying openis an old one. It is Latin poetry. The library at The Hall is veryfamous for its classical literature. The first Viscount collected it, and it numbers many thousands of volumes. "

"Indeed, it is the most wonderful library, " said Peppino. "I can nevertear myself away from it, when I am at The Hall. "

"I do not wonder. I am a great student myself and often spend a morningthere, do I not, Miss Lyall? You should have some new glass put inthose windows, Mr Lucas. On a dark day it must be very difficult tosee here. By the way, your good wife told me that there would probablybe a very remarkable Indian at her party, a Brahmin from Benares, shesaid. I should like to have a talk with him while I am having my tea. Kindly prepare a peach for me, Miss Lyall. "

Peppino had heard about the retirement of the Guru, in consequence of amessage from the Guides being expected, and proceeded to explain thisto Lady Ambermere, who did not take the slightest notice, as she waslooking at the peaches through her lorgnette. 

"That one nearest me looks eatable, " she said. "And then I do not seeMiss Olga Bracely, though I distinctly told her I should be here thisafternoon, and she said Mrs Lucas had asked her. She sang to usyesterday evening at The Hall, and very creditably indeed. Her husband, Mr Shuttleworth, is a cousin of the late lord's. "

Lucia had come into the smoking-parlour during this speech, and heardthese fatal words. At the moment she would gladly have recalled herinvitation to Olga Bracely altogether, sooner than have alluded thereinto Mr Bracely. But that was one of the irremediable things of life, andsince it was no use wasting regret on that, she was only the more eagerfor Olga to come, whatever her husband's name was. She braced herselfup to the situation. 

"Peppino, are you looking after Lady Ambermere?" she said. "Dear LadyAmbermere, I hope they are all taking care of you. "

"A very decent peach, " said Lady Ambermere. "The south wall of mygarden is covered with them, and they are always of a peculiarlydelicious flavour. The Hall is famed for its peaches. I understood thatMiss Bracely was going to be here, Mrs Lucas. I cannot imagine whatmakes her so late. I was always famed for my punctuality myself. I havefinished my tea. "

The lawn outside was now growing thick with people all in theirHightums, and Lady Ambermere as she emerged from the smoking-parlouragain viewed the scene with marked disfavour. The two Miss Antrobuseshad just arrived, and skipped up to their hostess with pretty cries. 

"We are dreadfully late, " said the eldest, "but it was all Piggy'sfault. "

"No, Goosie, it was yours, " said the other. "How can you be so naughtyas to say it was mine? Dear Mrs Lucas, what a lovely party it's being, and may we go and play bowls?"

Lady Ambermere regarded their retreating backs, as they raced off witharms intertwined to the bowling green. 

"And who are those young ladies?" she asked. "And why Piggy and Goosie?Miss Lyall, do not let Pug go to the bowls. They are very heavy. "

Elsewhere Mrs Antrobus was slowly advancing from group to group, withher trumpet violently engaged in receiving refreshment. Butconversation was not quite so varied as usual, for there was anattitude of intense expectation about with regard to the appearance ofMiss Bracely, that made talk rather jerky and unconnective. Then alsoit had gone about that the mysterious Indian, who had been seen now andthen during the last week, was actually staying with Mrs Lucas, and whywas he not here? More unconjecturable yet, though not so thrillinglyinteresting, was the absence of Mr Georgie. What could have happenedto him, that he was not flitting about on his hostess's errands, andbeing the life and soul of the party? It was in vain that Mrs Antrobusplodded on her methodical course, seeking answers to all these riddles, and that Mrs Weston in her swifter progression dashed about in herbath-chair from group to group, wherever people seemed to be talking inan animated manner. She could learn nothing, and Mrs Antrobus couldlearn nothing, in fact the only information to be had on the subjectwas what Mrs Weston herself supplied. She had a very high-colouredhandsome face, and an extremely impressive manner, as if she wasimparting information of the very highest importance. She naturallyspoke in a loud, clear voice, so that she had not got to raise it mucheven when she addressed Mrs Antrobus. Her wealth of discursive detailwas absolutely unrivalled, and she was quite the best observer inRiseholme. 

"The last I saw of Miss Bracely, " she said exactly as if she had beentold to describe something on oath in the witness-box, "was a littleafter half-past one today. It must have been after half-past becausewhen I got home it was close on a quarter to two, and I wasn't ahundred yards from my house when I saw her. As soon as I saw her I saidto my gardener boy, Henry Luton, who was pushing me--he's the son ofold Mrs Luton who kept the fish shop, and when she died last year, Ibegan to get my fish from Brinton, for I didn't fancy the look of thenew person who took on the business, and Henry went to live with hisaunt. That was his father's sister, not his mother's, for Mrs Lutonnever had a sister, and no brothers either. Well, I said to Henry, 'Youcan go a bit slower, Henry, as we're late, we're late, and a minute ortwo more doesn't make any difference. ' 'No, ma'am, ' said Henry touchinghis cap, so we went slower. Miss Bracely was just opposite theducking-pond then, and presently she came out between the elms. Shehad just an ordinary morning frock on; it was dark-blue, about the sameshade as your cape, Mrs Antrobus, or perhaps a little darker, for thesunshine brightened it up. Quite simple it was, nothing grand. And shelooked at the watch on her wrist, and she seemed to me to walk a littlequicker after that, as if she was a bit late, just as I was. But slowerthan I was going, I could not go, for I was crawling along, and beforeshe got off the grass, I had come to the corner of Church Lane, andthough I turned my head round sharp, like that, at the very last moment, so as to catch the last of her, she hadn't more than stepped off thegrass onto the road before the laurestinus at the corner of ColonelBoucher's garden--no, of the Vicar's garden--hid her from me. And ifyou ask me----"

Mrs Weston stopped for a moment, nodding her head up and down, toemphasize the importance of what she had said, and to raise theexpectations of Mrs Antrobus to the highest pitch, as to what wascoming. 

"And if you ask me where I think she was going and what she was goingto do, " she said, "I believe she was going out to lunch and that shewas going to one of those houses there, just across the road, for shemade a bee-line across the green towards them. Well, there are threehouses there: there's Mrs Quantock's, and it couldn't have been that, or else Mrs Quantock would have had some news of her, or ColonelBoucher's, and it wouldn't have been that, for the Colonel would havehad news of her, and we all know whose the third house just there is. "

Mrs Antrobus had not completely followed this powerful reasoning. 

"But Colonel Boucher and Mrs Quantock are both here, eh?" said she. 

Mrs Weston raised her voice a little. 

"That's what I'm saying, " she announced, "but who isn't here whom weshould expect to see, and where's his house?"

It was generally felt that Mrs Weston had hit the nail on the head. What that nail precisely was no one knew, because she had not explainedwhy both Olga Bracely and Georgie were absentees. But now came theclimax, bang on the top of the nail, a shrewd straight stroke. 

"So there she was having her lunch with Mr Georgie, " said Mrs Weston, now introducing this name for the first time, with the highest dramaticart, "and they would be seeing round his house afterwards. And thenwhen it was time to come here, Mr Georgie would have remembered thatthe party was Hightum not Tightum, and there was Miss Bracely not inHightum at all, nor even Tightum, in my opinion, but Scrub. No doubtshe said to him, 'Is it a very grand sort of party, Mr Pillson?' and hecouldn't do other than reply, for we all received notice that it wasHightum--mine came about twelve--he couldn't do other than reply, 'Yes, Miss Bracely, it is. ' 'Good gracious me, ' she would say, 'and I've onlygot this old rag on. I must go back to the Ambermere Arms, and tell mymaid--for she brought a maid in that second motor--and tell my maid toput me out something tidy. ' 'But that will be a great bother for you, 'he would say, or something of that sort, for I don't pretend to knowwhat he actually did say, and she would reply, 'Oh Mr Pillson, but Imust put on something tidy, and it would be so kind of you, if youwould wait for me, while I do that, and let us go together. ' That'swhat _she_ said. "

Mrs Weston made a sign to her gardener to proceed, wishing to leave thestage at the moment of climax. 

"And that's why they're both late, " she said, and was whirled away inthe direction of the bowling-green. 

The minutes went on, and still nobody appeared who could possibly haveaccounted for the three-lined whip of Hightums, but by degrees Lucia, who had utterly failed to decoy Lady Ambermere into the place ofthrones, began to notice a certain thinning on her lawns. Her guests, it would seem, were not in process of dispersal, for it was a long wayoff seven o'clock yet, and also none would be so ill-mannered as toleave without shaking hands and saying what a delicious afternoon theyhad spent. But certainly the lawns grew emptier, and she was utterlyunable to explain this extraordinary phenomenon, until she happened togo close to the windows of her music-room. Then, looking in, she sawthat not only was every chair there occupied, but people were standingabout in expectant groups. For a moment, her heart beat high. .. . CouldOlga have arrived and by some mistake have gone straight in there? Itwas a dreamlike possibility, but it burst like a ray of sunshine on theparty that was rapidly becoming a nightmare to her, --for everyone, notLady Ambermere alone, was audibly wondering when the Guru was coming, and when Miss Bracely was going to sing. 

At the moment as she paused, a window in the music-room was opened, andPiggy's odious head looked out. 

"Oh, Mrs Lucas, " she said. "Goosie and I have got beautiful seats, andMamma is quite close to the piano where she will hear excellently. Hasshe promised to sing Siegfried? Is Mr Georgie going to play for her?It's the most delicious surprise; how could you be so sly and clever asnot to tell anybody?"

Lucia cloaked her rage under the most playful manner, as she ran intothe music-room through the hall. 

"You naughty things!" she said. "Do all come into the garden! It's agarden party, and I couldn't guess where you had all gone. What's allthis about singing and playing? I know nothing of it. "

She herded the incredulous crowd out into the garden again, all intheir Hightums, every one of them, only to meet Lady Ambermere with Pugand Miss Lyall coming in. 

"Better be going, Miss Lyall, " she said. "Kindly run out and find mypeople. Oh, here's Mrs Lucas. Been very pleasant indeed, thank you, good-bye. Your charming garden. Yes. "

"Oh, but it's very early, " said Lucia. "It's hardly six yet. "

"Indeed!" said Lady Ambermere. "Been so charming, " and she marched outafter Miss Lyall out into Shakespeare's garden. 

It was soon terribly evident that other people were sharing LadyAmbermere's conclusion about the delights of the afternoon, and thenecessity of getting home. Colonel Boucher had to take his bull-dogsfor a run and walk off the excitement of the party; Piggy and Goosieexplained to their mother that nobody was going to sing, and by silverylaughter tried to drown her just indignation, and presently Lucia hadthe agony of seeing Mrs Quantock seated on one of the thrones, that hadbeen designed for much worthier ends, and Peppino sitting in the other, while a few guests drifted about the lawn with all the purposelessnessof autumn leaves. What with the Guru, presumably meditating upstairsstill, and with Olga Bracely most conspicuously absent, she had hardlynervous energy left to wonder what could have become of Georgie. Neverin all the years of his ministry had he failed to be at her elbow throughthe entire duration of her garden-parties, flying about on her errandslike a tripping Hermes, herding her flocks if she wanted them in onepart of the garden rather than another, like a sagacious sheep-dog, and coming back to heel again ready for further tasks. But todayGeorgie was mysteriously away, for he had neither applied for leave norgiven any explanation, however improbable, of his absence. He at leastwould have prevented Lady Ambermere, the only cornerstone of the party, from going away in what must be called a huff, and have continued totell Lucia how marvellous she was, and what a beautiful party they werehaving. With the prospect of two other much more magnificentcornerstones, Lucia had not provided any further entertainment for herguests: there was not the conjurer from Brinton, nor the three youngladies who played banjo-trios, nor even the mild performing doves whichcooed so prettily, and walked up their mistress's outstretched fingersaccording to order, if they felt disposed. There was nothing to justifyHightums, there was scarcely even sufficient to warrant Tightums. Scrubwas written all over "the desert's dusty face. "

It was about half-past six when the miracles began, and without warningthe Guru walked out into the garden. Probably he had watched thedeparture of the great motor with its chauffeur and footman, and MissLyall and Lady Ambermere and Pug, and with his intuitive sagacity hadconjectured that the danger from Madras was over. He wore his new redslippers, a wonderful turban and an ecstatic smile. Lucia and Daisy methim with cries of joy, and the remaining guests, those drifting autumnleaves, were swept up, as it were, by some compelling broom andclustered in a heap in front of him. There had been a Great Message, aWord of Might, full of Love and Peace. Never had there been such aWord. .. . 

And then, even before they had all felt the full thrill of that, oncemore the door from the house opened, and out came Olga Bracely andGeorgie. It is true that she had still her blue morning frock, whichMrs Weston had designated as Scrub, but it was a perfectly new Scrub, and if it had been completely covered with Paris labels, they would nothave made its _provenance_ one whit clearer. "Dear Mrs Lucas, " shesaid, "Mr Georgie and I are terribly late, and it was quite my fault. There was a game of croquet that wouldn't come to an end, and my lifehas been guided by only one principle, and that is to finish a game ofcroquet whatever happens. I missed six trains once by finishing a gameof croquet. And Mr Georgie was so unkind: he wouldn't give me a cup oftea, or let me change my frock, but dragged me off to see you. And Iwon!"

The autumn leaves turned green and vigorous again, while Georgie wentto get refreshment for his conqueror, and they were all introduced. Sheallowed herself to be taken with the utmost docility--how unlikeSomebody--into the tent with the thrones: she confessed to having stoodon tiptoe and looked into Mrs Quantock's garden and wanted to see it somuch from the other side of the wall. And this garden, too--might shego and wander all over this garden when she had finished the mostdelicious peach that the world held? She was so glad she had not hadtea with Mr Georgie: he would never have given her such a goodpeach. .. . 

Now the departing guests in their Hightums, lingering on the villagegreen a little, and being rather sarcastic about the utter failure ofLucia's party, could hardly help seeing Georgie and Olga emerge fromhis house and proceed swiftly in the direction of The Hurst, and MrsAntrobus who retained marvellous eyesight as compensation for herdefective hearing, saw them go in, and simultaneously thought that shehad left her parasol at The Hurst. Next moment she was walkingthoughtfully away in that direction. Mrs Weston had been the next torealize what had happened, and though she had to go round by the roadin her bath-chair, she passed Mrs Antrobus a hundred yards from thehouse, her pretext for going back being that Lucia had promised to lendher the book by Antonio Caporelli (or was it Caporelto?). 

So once more the door into the garden opened, and out shot Mrs Weston. Olga by this time had made her tour of the garden, and might she seethe house? She might. There was a pretty music-room. At this stage, just as Mrs Weston was poured out in the garden, as with the floodgatesbeing unopened, the crowd that followed her came surging intoShakespeare's garden, and never had the mermaid's tail behind which wassecreted the electric bell, experienced such feverish usage. Pressureafter pressure invoked its aid, and the pretexts for re-admission weresoon not made at all, or simply disregarded by the parlour-maid. Colonel Boucher might have left a bull-dog, and Mrs Antrobus an eartrumpet, or Miss Antrobus (Piggy) a shoe lace, and the other MissAntrobus (Goosie) a shoe-horn: but in brisk succession the guests whohad been so sarcastic about the party on the village-green, jostledeach other in order to revisit the scenes of their irony. Miss OlgaBracely had been known to enter the portals, and as many of them whoentered after her, found a Guru as well. 

Olga was in the music-room when the crowd had congested the hall. People were introduced to her, and sank down into the nearest chairs. Mrs Antrobus took up her old place by the keyboard of the piano. Everybody seemed to be expecting something, and by degrees the importof their longing was borne in upon Olga. They waited, and waited andwaited, much as she had waited for a cigarette the evening before. Shelooked at the piano, and there was a comfortable murmur from heraudience. She looked at Lucia, who gave a great gasp, and said nothingat all. She was the only person present who was standing now except herhostess, and Mrs Weston's gardener, who had wheeled his mistress'schair into an admirable position for hearing. She was not too wellpleased, but after all. .. . 

"Would you like me to sing?" she asked Lucia. "Yes? Ah, there's a copyof Siegfried. Do you play?"

Lucia could not smile any more than she was smiling already. 

"Is it very diffy?" she asked. "Could I read it, Georgie? Shall I try?"

She slid onto the music-stool. 

"Me to begin?" she asked, finding that Olga had opened the book at thesalutation of Brunnhilde, which Lucia had practised so diligently allthe morning. 

She got no answer. Olga standing by her, had assumed a perfectlydifferent aspect. For her gaiety, her lightness was substituted someair of intense concentrated seriousness which Lucia did not understandat all. She was looking straight in front of her, gathering herself in, and paying not the smallest attention to Lucia or anybody else. 

"One, two, " said Lucia. "Three. Now, " and she plunged wildly into a seaof demi-semi-quavers. Olga had just opened her mouth, but shut itagain. 

"No, " she said. "Once more, " and she whistled the motif. 

"Oh! it's so diffy!" said Lucia beginning again. "Georgie! Turn over!"

Georgie turned over, and Lucia counting audibly to herself made anincomparable mess all over the piano. 

Olga turned to her accompanist. 

"Shall I try?" she said. 

She sat down at the piano, and made some sort of sketch of theaccompaniment, simplifying, and yet retaining the essence. And then shesang. 

Chapter EIGHT

Throughout August, Guruism reigned supreme over the cultured life ofRiseholme, and the priestess and dispenser of its mysteries was Lucia. Never before had she ruled from so elate a pinnacle, nor wielded sosecure a supremacy. None had access to the Guru but through her: allhis classes were held in the smoking-parlour and he meditated only inHamlet or in the sequestered arbour at the end of the laburnum walk. Once he had meditated on the village green, but Lucia did not approveof that and had led him, still rapt, home by the hand. 

The classes had swelled prodigiously, for practically all Riseholmitesnow were at some stage of instruction, with the exception of Hermy andUrsy, who pronounced the whole thing "piffle, " and, as gentle chaff forGeorgie, sometimes stood on one leg in the middle of the lawn and heldtheir breath. Then Hermy would say One, Two, Three, and they shouted"Om" at the tops of their discordant voices. Now that the Guru waspractically interned in The Hurst, they had actually never set eyes onhim, for they had not chosen to come to the Hightum garden-party, preferring to have a second round of golf, and meeting Lucia next dayhad been distinctly irreverent on the subject of Eastern philosophy. Since then she had not been aware of their existence. 

Lucia now received special instruction from the Guru in a class all byherself so prodigious was her advance in Yoga, for she could hold herbreath much longer than anybody else, and had mastered six postures, while the next class which she attended also consisted of the otheroriginal members, namely Daisy Quantock, Georgie and Peppino. They hadgot on very well, too, but Lucia had quite shot away from them, and nowif the Guru had other urgent spiritual claims on him, she gaveinstruction to a less advanced class herself. For this purpose shehabited herself in a peculiarly becoming dress of white linen, whichreached to her feet and had full flowing sleeves like a surplice. It was girdled with a silver cord with long tassels, and hadmother-of-pearl buttons and a hood at the back lined with white satinwhich came over her head. Below its hem as she sat and taught in areally rather advanced posture showed the toes of her white moroccoslippers, and she called it her "Teacher's Robe. " The class which shetaught consisted of Colonel Boucher, Piggy Antrobus and Mrs Weston:sometimes the Colonel brought his bull-dogs with him, who lay andsnorted precisely as if they were doing breathing exercises, too. Ageneral air of joyful mystery and spiritual endeavour blew balmilyround them all, and without any doubt the exercises and the deepbreathing were extremely good for them. 

One evening, towards the end of the month, Georgie was sitting in hisgarden, for the half hour before dressing-time, thinking how busy hewas, and yet how extraordinarily young and fresh he felt. Usually thismonth when Hermy and Ursy were with him was very fatiguing, and inordinary years he would have driven away with Foljambe and Dicky onthe day after their departure, and had a quiet week by the seaside. Butnow, though his sisters were going away tomorrow morning, he had nointention of taking a well-earned rest, in spite of the fact that notonly had he been their host all this time, but had done an amazingquantity of other things as well. There had been the daily classes tobegin with, which entailed much work in the way of meditation andexercises, as well as the actual learning, and also he had had anotherjob which might easily have taxed his energies to the utmost any otheryear. For Olga Bracely had definitely bought that house without whichshe had felt that life was not worth living, and Georgie all this monthhad at her request been exercising a semi-independent supervision overits decoration and furnishing. She had ordered the general schemeherself and had sent down from London the greater part of thefurniture, but Georgie was commissioned to report on any likely piecesof old stuff that he could find, and if expedition was necessary to acton his own responsibility and buy them. But above all secrecy was stillnecessary till the house was so complete that her Georgie might betold, and by the end of the month Riseholme generally was in a state ofprostration following on the violent and feverish curiosity as to whohad taken the house. Georgie had gone so far as to confess that heknew, but the most pathetic appeals as to the owner's identity hadfallen on obdurate, if not deaf, ears. Not the smallest hint would hegive on the subject, and though those incessant visits to the house, those searchings for furniture, the bestowal of it in suitable places, the superintendence of the making of the garden, the interviewings ofpaperhangers, plumbers, upholsterers, painters, carpenters and so forthoccupied a great deal of time, the delicious mystery about it all, andthe fact that he was doing it for so adorable a creature, rendered hisexertions a positive refreshment. Another thing which, in conjunctionwith this and his youth-giving studies, made him feel younger than everwas the discreet arrival and perfect success of his toupet. No longerwas there any need to fear the dislocation of his espaliered locks. Hefelt so secure and undetectable in that regard that he had taken towearing no hat, and was soon about to say that his hair was growingmore thickly than ever in consequence. But it was not quite time forthat yet: it would be inartistic to suggest that just a couple of weeksof hatlessness had produced so desirable a result. 

As he sat at ease after the labours of the day he wondered how thecoming of Olga Bracely to Riseholme would affect the economy of theplace. It was impossible to think of her with her beauty, her charm, her fame, her personality as taking any second place in its life. Unless she was really meaning to use Riseholme as a retreat, to take nopart in its life at all, it was hard to see what part she would takeexcept the first part. One who by her arrival at Lucia's ever-memorableparty had converted it in a moment from the most dire of Scrubs (in apsychical sense) to the Hightumest gathering ever known could not layaside her distinction and pre-eminence. Never had Lucia "scored" soamazingly as over Olga's late appearance, which had the effect ofbringing back all her departed guests with the compulsion of a magnetover iron-filings, and sending up the whole party like a rocket intothe zenith of social success. All Riseholme knew that Olga had come(after playing croquet with Georgie the entire afternoon) and had giventhem free gratis and for nothing, such a treat as only the wealthiestcould obtain with the most staggering fees. Lady Ambermere alone, driving back to The Hall with Pug and poor Miss Lyall, was the onlyperson who had not shared in that, and she knew all about it next day, for Georgie had driven out on purpose to tell her, and met Lucia comingaway. How, then, would the advent of Olga affect Riseholme's socialworking generally, and how would it affect Lucia in particular? Andwhat would Lucia say when she knew on whose behalf Georgie was so busywith plumbers and painters, and with buying so many of the desirabletreasures in the Ambermere Arms?

Frankly he could not answer these conundrums: they presupposedinconceivable situations, which yet, though inconceivable, were shortlycoming to pass, for Olga's advent might be expected before October, that season of tea-parties that ushered in the multifarious gaieties ofthe winter. Would Olga form part of the moonlit circle to whom Luciaplayed the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata, and give a long sighat the end like the rest of them? And would Lucia when they had allrecovered a little from the invariable emotion go to her and say, "Olgamia, just a little bit out of the Valkyrie? It would be so pleasant. "Somehow Georgie, with all his imagination, could not picture such ascene. And would Olga take the part of second citizenness or somethingof the sort when Lucia played Portia? Would Olga join the elementaryclass of Yoga, and be instructed by Lucia in her Teacher's Robe? Wouldshe sing treble in the Christmas Carols, while Lucia beat time, andsaid in syllables dictated by the rhythm, "Trebles a little flat! Mypoor ears!"? Georgie could not imagine any of these things, and yet, unless Olga took no part in the social life of Riseholme at all (andthat was equally inconceivable) what was the alternative? True, she hadsaid that she was coming here because it was so ideally lazy abackwater, but Georgie did not take that seriously. She would soon seewhat Riseholme was when its life poured down in spate, whirling herpunt along with it. 

And finally, what would happen to him, when Olga was set as a shiningstar in this firmament? Already he revolved about her, he was aware, like some eager delighted little moon, drawn away from the orbit whereit had encircled so contentedly by the more potent planet. And themeasure of his detachment from that old orbit might be judged preciselyby the fact that the process of detachment which was already takingplace was marked by no sense of the pull of opposing forces at all. Thegreat new star sailing into the heavens had just picked him up by forceof its superior power of attraction, even as by its momentaryconjunction with Lucia at the garden-party it had raised her to amagnitude she had never possessed before. That magnitude was stillLucia's, and no doubt would be until the great star appeared again. Then without effort its shining must surely eclipse every otherillumination, just as without effort it must surely attract all thelittle moons to itself. Or would Lucia manage somehow or other, eitherby sheer force of will, by desperate and hostile endeavour, or, on theother hand, by some supreme tact and cleverness to harness the greatstar to her own chariot? He thought the desperate and hostile endeavourwas more in keeping with Lucia's methods, and this quiet evening hourrepresented itself to him as the lull before the storm. 

The actual quiet of the moment was suddenly broken into. His front-doorbanged, and the house was filled with running footsteps and screams oflaughter. But it was not uncommon for Hermy and Ursy to make this sortof entrance, and at the moment Georgie had not the slightest idea ofhow much further-reaching was the disturbance of the tranquillity. Hebut drew a couple of long breaths, said "Om" once or twice, and wasquite prepared to find his deeper calm unshattered. 

Hermy and Ursy ran down the steps into the garden where he sat stillyelling with laughter, and still Georgie's imagination went no furtherthan to suppose that one of them had laid a stymie for the other attheir golf, or driven a ball out of bounds or done some other of thesethings that appeared to make the game so diverting to them. 

"Georgie, you'll never guess!" cried Hermy. 

"The Guru: the Om, of high caste and extraordinary sanctity, " criedUrsy. 

"The Brahmin from Benares, " shrieked Hermy. 

"The great Teacher! Who do you think he is?" said Ursy. "We never seenhim before--"

"But we recognised him at once--"

"He recognised us, too, and didn't he run?--"

"Into The Hurst and shut the door--"

Georgie's deeper calm suddenly quivered like a jelly. 

"My dears, you needn't howl so, or talk quite so loud, " he said. "AllRiseholme will hear you. Tell me without shouting who it was youthought you recognised. "

"There's no think about it, " said Hermy. "It was one of the cooks fromthe Calcutta Restaurant in Bedford Street--"

"Where we often have lunch, " said Ursy. "He makes the most deliciouscurries. "

"Especially when he's a little tipsy, " said Hermy. 

"And is about as much a Brahmin as I am. "

"And always said he came from Madras. "

"We always tip him to make the curry himself, so he isn't quiteignorant about money. "

"O Lord!" said Hermy, wiping her eyes. "If it isn't the limit!"

"And to think of Mrs Lucas and Colonel Boucher and you and MrsQuantock, and Piggy and all the rest of them sitting round a cook, "said Ursy, "and drinking in his wisdom. Mr Quantock was on the righttrack after all when he wanted to engage him. "

Georgie with a fallen heart had first to satisfy himself that this wasnot one of his sisters' jokes, and then tried to raise his fallen heartby remembering that the Guru had often spoken of the dignity of simplemanual work, but somehow it was a blow, if Hermy and Ursy were right, to know that this was a tipsy contriver of curry. There was nothing inthe simple manual office of curry-making that could possibly tarnishsanctity, but the amazing tissue of falsehoods with which the Guru hadmodestly masked his innocent calling was not so markedly in the spiritof the Guides, as retailed by him. It was of the first importance, however, to be assured that his sisters had not at present communicatedtheir upsetting discovery to anybody but himself, and after that to gettheir promise that they would not do so. 

This was not quite so easy, for Hermy and Ursy had projected a round ofvisits after dinner to every member of the classes with the exceptionof Lucia, who should wake up next morning to find herself the onlyillusioned person in the place. 

"She wouldn't like that, you know, " said Hermy with brisk malice. "Wethought it would serve her out for never asking us to her house againafter her foolish old garden-party. "

"My dear, you never wanted to go, " said Georgie. 

"I know we didn't, but we rather wanted to tell her we didn't want togo. She wasn't nice. Oh, I don't think we can give up tellingeverybody. It has made such sillies of you all. I think he's a realsport. "

"So do I, " said Ursy. "We shall soon have him back at his curry-ovenagain. What a laugh we shall have with him. "

They subsided for just as long as it took Foljambe to come out of thehouse, inform them that it was a quarter of an hour to dinner-time, andreturn again. They all rose obediently. 

"Well, we'll talk about it at dinner-time, " said Georgiediplomatically. "And I'll just go down to the cellar first to see if Ican find something you like. "

"Good old Georgie, " said Hermy. "But if you're going to bribe us, youmust bribe us well. "

"We'll see, " said he. 

Georgie was quite right to be careful over his Veuve Clicquot, especially since it was a bottle of that admirable beverage that Hermyand Ursy had looted from his cellar on the night of their burglariousentry. He remembered that well, though he had--chiefly from the desireto keep things pleasant about his hair--joined in "the fun, " and hadeven produced another half-bottle. But tonight, even more than then, there was need for the abolition of all petty economies, for thesituation would be absolutely intolerable if Hermy and Ursy spreadabout Riseholme the fact that the introducers and innermost circle ofYoga philosophers had sat at the feet of no Gamaliel at all, but atthose of a curry-cook from some low restaurant. Indeed he brought up asecond bottle tonight with a view if Hermy and Ursy were not softenedby the first to administer that also. They would then hardly be in acondition to be taken seriously if they still insisted on making ahouse-to-house visit in Riseholme, and tearing the veil from off thefeatures of the Guru. Georgie was far too upright of purpose to dreamof making his sisters drunk, but he was willing to make greatsacrifices in order to render them kind. What the inner circle would doabout this cook he had no idea; he must talk to Lucia about it, beforethe advanced class tomorrow morning. But anything was better thanletting Hermy and Ursy loose in Riseholme with their rude laughs anddiscreditable exposures. This evening safely over, he could discusswith Lucia what was to be done, for Hermy and Ursy would have vanishedat cock-crow as they were going in for some golf-competition at a safedistance. Lucia might recommend doing nothing at all, and wish tocontinue enlightening studies as if nothing had happened. But Georgiefelt that the romance would have evaporated from the classes as regardshimself. Or again they might have to get rid of the Guru somehow. Heonly felt quite sure that Lucia would agree with him that DaisyQuantock must not be told. She with her thwarted ambitions of being theprime dispenser of Guruism to Riseholme might easily "turn nasty" andlet it be widely known that she and Robert had seen through that fraudlong ago, and had considered whether they should not offer the Guru thesituation of cook in their household, for which he was so much betterqualified. She might even add that his leanings towards her prettyhousemaid had alone dissuaded her. 

The evening went off with a success more brilliant than Georgie hadanticipated, and it was quite unnecessary to open the second bottle ofchampagne. Hermy and Ursy, perhaps under the influence of the first, perhaps from innate good-nature, perhaps because they were starting sovery early next morning, and wanted to be driven into Brinton, insteadof taking a slower and earlier train at this station, readily gave uptheir project of informing the whole of Riseholme of their discovery, and went to bed as soon as they had rooked their brother of elevenshillings at cut-throat bridge. They continued to say, "I'll play theGuru, " whenever they had to play a knave, but Georgie found it quiteeasy to laugh at that, so long as the humour of it did not spread. Heeven himself said, "I'll Guru you, then, " when he took a trick with theKnave of Trumps. 

The agitation and uncertainty caused him not to sleep very well, and inaddition there was a good deal of disturbance in the house, for hissisters had still all their packing in front of them when they went tobed and the doze that preceded sleep was often broken by the sound ofthe banging of luggage, the clash of golf-clubs and steps on the stairsas they made ready for their departure. 

But after a while these disturbances ceased, and it was out of a deepsleep that he awoke with the sense that some noise had awakened him. Apparently they had not finished yet, for there was surely some faintstir of movement somewhere. Anyhow they respected his legitimate desirefor quiet, for the noise, whatever it was, was extremely stealthy andsubdued. He thought of his absurd lark about burglars on the night oftheir arrival, and smiled at the notion. His _toupet_ was in adrawer close to his bed, but he had no substantial impulse to put iton, and make sure that the noise was not anything other than hissisters' preparations for their early start. For himself, he would havehad everything packed and corded long before dinner, if he was to startnext day, except just a suit case that would hold the apparatus ofimmediate necessities, but then dear Hermy and Ursy were so ramshacklein their ways. Some time he would have bells put on all the shutters ashe had determined to do a month ago, and then no sort of noise woulddisturb him any more. .. . 

The Yoga-class next morning was (unusually) to assemble at ten, sincePeppino, who would not miss it for anything, was going to have a day'sfishing in the happy stream that flowed into the Avon, and he wanted tobe off by eleven. Peppino had made great progress lately and hadcertain curious dizzy symptoms when he meditated which were highlysatisfactory. 

Georgie breakfasted with his sisters at eight (they had enticed themotor out of him to convey them to Brinton) and when they were gone, Foljambe informed him that the housemaid had a sore throat, and had not"done" the drawing-room. Foljambe herself would "do" it, when she hadcleaned the "young ladies'" rooms (there was a hint of scorn in this)upstairs, and so Georgie sat on the window seat of the dining-room, andthought how pleasant peace and quietness were. But just when it wastime to start for The Hurst in order to talk over the disclosures ofthe night before with Lucia before the class, and perhaps to frame somesecretive policy which would obviate further exposure, he rememberedthat he had left his cigarette-case (the pretty straw one with theturquoise in the corner) in the drawing-room and went to find it. Thewindow was open, and apparently Foljambe _had_ just come in to letfresh air into the atmosphere which Hermy and Ursy had souninterruptedly contaminated last night with their "fags" as theycalled them, but his cigarette-case was not on the table where hethought he had left it. He looked round, and then stood rooted to thespot. 

His glass-case of treasures was not only open but empty. Gone was theLouis XVI snuff-box, gone was the miniature of Karl Huth, gone thepiece of Bow China, and gone the Faberge cigarette case. Only the QueenAnne toy-porringer was there, and in the absence of the others, itlooked to him, as no doubt it had looked to the burglar, indescribablyinsignificant. 

Georgie gave a little low wailing cry, but did not tear his hair forobvious reasons. Then he rang the bell three times in swift succession, which was the signal to Foljambe that even if she was in her bath, shemust come at once. In she came with one of Hermy's horrid woolenjerseys that had been left behind, in her hand. 

"Yes, sir, what is it?" she asked, in an agitated manner, for nevercould she remember Georgie having rung the bell three times except oncewhen a fish-bone had stuck in his throat, and once again when a notehad announced to him that Piggy was going to call and hoped to find himalone. For answer Georgie pointed to the rifled treasure-case. "Gone!Burgled!" he said. "Oh, my God!"

At that supreme moment the telephone bell sounded. 

"See what it is, " he said to Foljambe, and put the Queen Annetoy-porringer in his pocket. 

She came hurrying back. 

"Mrs Lucas wants you to come around at once, " she said. 

"I can't, " said Georgie. "I must stop here and send for the police. Nothing must be moved, " and he hastily replaced the toy-porringer onthe exact circle of pressed velvet where it had stood before. 

"Yes, sir, " said Foljambe, but in another moment she returned. 

"She would be very much obliged if you would come at once, " she said. "There's been a robbery in the house. "

"Well, tell her there's been one in mine, " said Georgie irritably. Thengood-nature mixed with furious curiosity came to his aid. 

"Wait here, then, Foljambe, on this very spot, " he said, "and see thatnobody touches anything. I shall probably ring up the police from TheHurst. Admit them. "

In his agitation he put on his hat, instead of going bareheaded and wasreceived by Lucia, who had clearly been looking out of the music-roomwindow, at the door. She wore her Teacher's Robe. 

"Georgie, " she said, quite forgetting to speak Italian in her greeting, "someone broke into Philip's safe last night, and took a hundred poundsin bank-notes. He had put them there only yesterday in order to pay incash for that cob. And my Roman pearls. "

Georgie felt a certain pride of achievement. 

"I've been burgled, too, " he said. "My Louis XVI snuff-box isworth more than that, and there's the piece of Bow china, and thecigarette-case, and the Karl Huth as well. "

"My dear! Come inside, " said she. "It's a gang. And I was feeling sopeaceful and exalted. It will make a terrible atmosphere in the house. My Guru will be profoundly affected. An atmosphere where thieves havebeen will stifle him. He has often told me how he cannot stop in ahouse where there have been wicked emotions at play. I must keep itfrom him. I cannot lose him. "

Lucia had sunk down on a spacious Elizabethan settle in the hall. Thehumorous spider mocked them from the window, the humorous stone fruitfrom the plate beside the pot-pourri bowl. Even as she repeated, "Icannot lose him, " again, a tremendous rap came on the front door, andGeorgie, at a sign from his queen, admitted Mrs Quantock. 

"Robert and I have been burgled, " she said. "Four silver spoons--thankGod, most of our things are plate--eight silver forks and a Georgiantankard. I could have spared all but the last. "

A faint sign of relief escaped Lucia. If the foul atmosphere of thievespermeated Daisy's house, too, there was no great danger that her Guruwould go back there. She instantly became sublime. 

"Peace!" she said. "Let us have our class first, for it is ten already, and not let any thought of revenge or evil spoil that for us. If I sentfor the police now I could not concentrate. I will not tell my Guruwhat has happened to any of us, but for poor Peppino's sake I will askhim to give us rather a short lesson. I feel completely calm. Om. "

Vague nightmare images began to take shape in Georgie's mind, unworthysuspicions based on his sisters' information the evening before. Butwith Foljambe keeping guard over the Queen Anne porringer, there wasnothing more to fear, and he followed Lucia, her silver cord withtassels gently swinging as she moved, to the smoking-parlour, wherePeppino was already sitting on the floor, and breathing in a rathermore agitated manner than was usual with the advanced class. There werefresh flowers on the table, and the scented morning breeze blew in fromthe garden. According to custom they all sat down and waited, gettingcalmer and more peaceful every moment. Soon there would be the tappingof slippered heels on the walk of broken paving-stones outside, and forthe time they would forget all these disturbances. But they were allrather glad that Lucia was to ask the Guru to give them a shorterlesson than usual. 

They waited. Presently the hands of the Cromwellian timepiece which wasthe nearest approach to an Elizabethan clock that Lucia had been ableat present to obtain, pointed to a quarter past ten. 

"My Guru is a little late, " said she. 

Two minutes afterwards, Peppino sneezed. Two minutes after that Daisyspoke, using irony. 

"Would it not be well to see what has happened to your Guru, dear?" sheasked. "Have you seen your Guru this morning?"

"No, dear, " said Lucia, not opening her eyes, for she was"concentrating, " "he always meditates before a class. "

"So do I, " said Daisy, "but I have meditated long enough. "

"Hush!" said Lucia. "He is coming. "

That proved to be a false alarm, for it was nothing but Lucia's Persiancat, who had a quarrel with some dead laurel leaves. Lucia rose. 

"I don't like to interrupt him, " she said, "but time is getting on. "

She left the smoking-parlour with the slow supple walk that she adoptedwhen she wore her Teacher's Robes. Before many seconds had passed, shecame back more quickly and with no suppleness. 

"His door is locked", she said; "and yet there's no key in it. "

"Did you look through the keyhole, _Lucia mia_?" asked MrsQuantock, with irrepressible irony. 

Naturally Lucia disregarded this. 

"I knocked, " she said, "and there was no reply. I said, 'Master, we arewaiting, ' and he didn't answer. "

Suddenly Georgie spoke, as with the report of a cork flying out of abottle. 

"My sisters told me last night that he was the curry-cook at theCalcutta restaurant, " he said. "They recognised him, and they thoughthe recognised them. He comes from Madras, and is no more a Brahmin thanFoljambe. "

Peppino bounded to his feet. 

"What?" he said. "Let's get a poker and break in the door! I believehe's gone and I believe he's the burglar. Ring for the police. "

"Curry-cook, is he?" said Daisy. "Robert and I were right after all. Weknew what your Guru was best fitted for, dear Lucia, but then of courseyou always know best, and you and he have been fooling us finely. Butyou didn't fool me. I knew when you took him away from me, what sort ofa bargain you had made. Guru, indeed! He's the same class as Mrs Eddy, and I saw through her fast enough. And now what are we to do? For mypart, I shall just get home, and ring up for the police, and say thatthe Indian who has been living with you all these weeks has stolen myspoons and forks and my Georgian tankard. Guru, indeed! Burglaroo, Icall him! There!"

Her passion, like Hyperion's, had lifted her upon her feet, and shestood there defying the whole of the advanced class, short and stoutand wholly ridiculous, but with some revolutionary menace about her. She was not exactly "terrible as an army with banners, " but she wasterrible as an elderly lady with a long-standing grievance that hadbeen accentuated by the loss of a Georgian tankard, and that wasterrible enough to make Lucia adopt a conciliatory attitude. Bitterlyshe repented having stolen Daisy's Guru at all, if the suspicions nowthickening in the air proved to be true, but after all they were notproved yet. The Guru might still walk in from the arbor on the laburnumalley which they had not yet searched, or he might be levitating withthe door key in his pocket. It was not probable but it was possible, and at this crisis possibilities were things that must be clung to, forotherwise you would simply have to submerge, like those U-boats. 

They searched all the garden, but found no trace of the curry-cook:they made guarded enquiries of the servants as to whether he had beenseen, but nothing whatever could be learned about him. So when Peppinotook a ponderous hammer and a stout chisel from his tool chest and ledthe way upstairs, they all knew that the decisive moment had come. Perhaps he might be meditating (for indeed it was likely that he had agood deal to meditate about), but perhaps--Peppino called to him in hismost sonorous tones, and said that he would be obliged to break hislock if no answer came, and presently the house resounded withknockings as terrible as those in Macbeth, and much louder. Thensuddenly the lock gave, and the door was open. 

The room was empty, and as they had all conjectured by now, the bed wasunslept in. They opened the drawers of the wardrobe and they were asempty as the room. Finally, Peppino unlocked the door of a largecupboard that stood in the corner, and with a clinking and crashing ofglass there poured out a cataract of empty brandy bottles. Emptiness:that was the key-note of the whole scene, and blank consternation itseffect. 

"My brandy!" said Mrs Quantock in a strangled voice. "There arefourteen or fifteen bottles. That accounts for the glazed look in hiseyes which you, dear Lucia, thought was concentration. I call itdistillation. "

"Did he take it from your cellar?" asked Lucia, too shattered to feelresentment, but still capable of intense curiosity. 

"No: he had a standing order from me to order any little things hemight want from my tradesmen. I wish I had my bills sent in everyweek. "

"Yes, dear, " said Lucia. 

Georgie's eyes sought hers. 

"I saw him buy the first bottle, " he said. "I remember telling youabout it. It was at Rush's"

Peppino gathered up his hammer and chisel. 

"Well, it's no use sitting here and thinking of old times, " heobserved. "I shall ring up the police-station and put the whole matterinto their hands, as far as I am concerned. They'll soon lay hands onhim, and he can do his postures in prison for the next few years. "

"But we don't know that it was he who committed all these burglariesyet, " said Lucia. 

No one felt it was worth answering this, for the others had all triedand convicted him already. 

"I shall do the same, " said Georgie. 

"My tankard, " said Mrs Quantock. Lucia got up. 

_"Peppino mio, "_ she said, "and you, Georgie, and you, Daisy, Iwant you before you do anything at all to listen to me for fiveminutes. Just consider this. What sort of figure shall we all cut if weput the matter into the hands of the police? They will probably catchhim, and it will all come out that we have been the dupes of acurry-cook. Think what we have all been doing for this last month, think of our classes, our exercises, our--everything. We have been madefools of, but for my part, I simply couldn't bear that everybody shouldknow I had been made a fool of. Anything but that. What's a hundredpounds compared to that, or a tankard--"

"My Louis XVI snuff-box was worth at least that without the otherthings, " said Georgie, still with a secret satisfaction in being thegreatest sufferer. 

"And it was my hundred pounds, not yours, _carissima, "_ saidPeppino. But it was clear that Lucia's words were working within himlike leaven. 

"I'll go halves with you, " she said. I'll give you a cheque for fiftypounds. "

"And who would like to go halves in my tankard?" said Daisy with bitterirony. "I want my tankard. "

Georgie said nothing, but his mind was extremely busy. There was Olgasoon coming to Riseholme, and it would be awful if she found it ringingwith the tale of the Guru, and glancing across to Peppino, he saw athoughtful and sympathetic look in his eyes, that seemed to indicatethat his mind was working on parallel lines. Certainly Lucia hadgiven them all something to meditate upon. He tried to imagine thewhole story being shouted into Mrs Antrobus's ear-trumpet on thevillage-green, and could not endure the idea. He tried to imagine MrsWeston ever ceasing to talk about it, and could not picture her silence. No doubt they had all been taken in, too, but here in this empty bedroomwere the original dupes, who encouraged the rest. 

After Mrs Quantock's enquiry a dead silence fell. 

"What do you propose, then?" asked Peppino, showing signs of surrender. 

Lucia exerted her utmost wiles. 

_"Caro!"_ she said. "I want 'oo to propose. Daisy and me, we sillywomen, we want 'oo and Georgie to tell us what to do. But if Lucia mustspeak, I fink--"

She paused a moment, and observing strong disgust at her playfulness onMrs Quantock's face, reverted to ordinary English again. 

"I should do something of this sort, " she said. "I should say that dearDaisy's Guru had left us quite suddenly, and that he has had a callsomewhere else. His work here was done; he had established our classes, and set all our feet upon the Way. He always said that something of thesort might happen to him----"

"I believe he had planned it all along, " said Georgie. "He knew thething couldn't last for ever, and when my sisters recognised him, heconcluded it was time to bolt. "

"With all the available property he could lay hands on, " said MrsQuantock. 

Lucia fingered her tassel. 

"Now about the burglaries, " she said. "It won't do to let it be knownthat three burglaries were committed in one night, and thatsimultaneously Daisy's Guru was called away--"

"My Guru, indeed!" said Mrs Quantock, fizzing with indignation at therepetition of this insult. 

"That might give rise to suspicion, " continued Lucia calmly, disregarding the interruption, "and we must stop the news fromspreading. Now with regard to our burglary . .. Let me think a moment. "

She had got such complete control of them all now that no one spoke. 

"I have it, " she said. "Only Boaler knows, for Peppino told her not tosay a word till the police had been sent for. You must tell her, _carissimo, _ that you have found the hundred pounds. That settlesthat. Now you, Georgie. "

"Foljambe knows, " said Georgie. 

"Then tell her not to say a word about it. Put some more things out inyour lovely treasure-case, no one will notice. And you, Daisy. "

"Robert is away, " said she, quite meekly, for she had been thinkingthings over. "My maid knows. "

"And when he comes back, will he notice the loss of the tankard? Didyou often use it?"

"About once in ten years. "

"Chance it, then, " said Lucia. "Just tell your maid to say nothingabout it. "

She became deliciously modest again. 

"There!" she said. "That's just a little rough idea of mine and nowPeppino and Georgie will put their wise heads together, and tell uswhat to do. "

That was easily done: they repeated what she had said, and shecorrected them if they went wrong. Then once again she stood fingeringthe tassels of her Teacher's Robe. 

"About our studies, " she said. "I for one should be very sorry to dropthem altogether, because they made such a wonderful difference to me, and I think you all felt the same. Look at Georgie now: he looks tenyears younger than he did a month ago, and as for Daisy, I wish I couldtrip about as she does. And it wouldn't do, would it, to dropeverything just because Daisy's Guru--I mean our Guru--had been calledaway. It would look as if we weren't really interested in what hetaught us, as if it was only the novelty of having a--a Brahmin amongus that had attracted us. "

Lucia smiled benignly at them all. 

"Perhaps we shall find, bye and bye, that we can't progress much all byourselves, " she said, "and it will all drop quietly. But don't let usdrop it with a bang. I shall certainly take my elementary class asusual this afternoon. "

She paused. 

"In my Robe, just as usual, " she said. 

Chapter NINE

The fish for which Mrs Weston sent to Brinton every week since she didnot like the look of the successor to Tommy Luton's mother laydisregarded on the dish, while with fork and fish-slice in her hand, asaids to gesticulation, she was recounting to Colonel Boucher thecomplete steps that had led up to her remarkable discovery. 

"It was the day of Mrs Lucas's garden-party. " she said, "when first Ibegan to have my ideas, and you may be sure I kept them to myself, forI'm not one to speak before I'm pretty sure, but now if the King andQueen came to me on their bended knee and said it wasn't so, Ishouldn't believe them. Well--as you may remember, we all went back toMrs Lucas's party again about half-past six, and it was an umbrellathat one had left behind, and a stick that another had forgotten, andwhat not, for me it was a book all about Venice, that I wanted toborrow, most interesting I am sure, but I haven't had time to glance atit yet, and there was Miss Bracely just come!"

Mrs Weston had to pause a moment for her maid, Elizabeth Luton (cousinof Tommy), jogged her elbow with the dishcover in a manner that couldnot fail to remind her that Colonel Boucher was still waiting for hispiece of brill. As she carved it for him, he rapidly ran over in hismind what seemed to be the main points so far, for as yet there was nocertain clue as to the purpose of this preliminary matter, he guessedeither Guru or Miss Bracely. Then he received his piece of brill, andMrs Weston laid down her carving implements again. 

"You'd better help yourself, ma'am, " said Elizabeth discreetly. 

"So I had, and I'll give you a piece of advice too, Elizabeth, and thatis to give the Colonel a glass of wine. Burgundy! I was only wonderingthis afternoon when it began to turn chilly, if there was a bottle ortwo of the old Burgundy left, which Mr Weston used to be so fond of, and there was. He bought it on the very spot where it was made, and hesaid there wasn't a headache in it, not if you drank it all night. Henever did, for a couple of glasses and one more was all he ever took, so I don't know how he knew about drinking it all night, but he was avery fine judge of wine. So I said to Elizabeth, 'A bottle of the oldBurgundy, Elizabeth, ' Well, on that evening I stopped behind a bit, tohave another look at the Guru, and get my book, and when I came up thestreet again, what should I see but Miss Bracely walking in to thelittle front garden at 'Old Place. ' It was getting dark, I know, and myeyes aren't like Mrs Antrobus's, which I call gimlets, but I saw herplain enough. And if it wasn't the next day, it was the day after that, that they began mending the roof, and since then, there have beenplumbers and painters and upholsterers and furniture vans at the doorday and night. "

"Haw, hum, " said the Colonel, "then do you mean that it's Miss Bracelywho has taken it?"

Mrs Weston nodded her head up and down. 

"I shall ask you what you think when I've told you all, " she said. "Well! There came a day, and if today's Friday it would be last Tuesdayfortnight, and if today's Thursday, for I get mixed about it thismorning, and then I never get it straight till next Sunday, but iftoday's Thursday, then it would be last Monday fortnight, when the Guruwent away very suddenly, and I'm sure I wasn't very sorry, becausethose breathings made me feel very giddy and yet I didn't like to beout of it all. Mr Georgie's sisters went away the same day, and I'veoften wondered whether there was any connection between the two events, for it was odd their happening together like that, and I'm not surewe've heard the last of it yet. "

Colonel Boucher began to wonder whether this was going to be about theGuru after all and helped himself to half a partridge. This had theeffect of diverting Mrs Weston's attention. 

"No, " she said. "I insist on your taking the whole bird. They are quitesmall, and I was disappointed when I saw them plucked, and a bit ofcold ham and a savoury is all the rest of your dinner. Mary asked me ifI wouldn't have an apple tart as well, but I said 'No; the Colonelnever touches sweets, but he'll have a partridge, a whole partridge, ' Isaid, 'and he won't complain of his dinner. ' Well! On the day that theyall went away, whatever the explanation of that was, I was sitting inmy chair opposite the Arms, when out came the landlord followed by twomen carrying the settle that stood on the right of the fireplace in thehall. So I said, 'Well, landlord, who has ordered that handsome piece?'For handsome it was with it carved arms. And he said, 'Good morning, ma'am no, good afternoon ma'am, it would be--It's for Miss--and then hestopped dead and corrected himself, 'It's for Mr Pillson. '"

Mrs Weston rapidly took a great quantity of mouthfuls of partridge. Assoon as possible she went on. 

"So perhaps you can tell me where it is now, if it was for Mr Georgie, "she said. "I was there only two days ago, and it wasn't in his hall, orin his dining room, or in his drawing room, for though there arechanges there, that settle isn't one of them. It's his treasure casethat's so altered. The snuff-box is gone, and the cigarette case andthe piece of Bow china, and instead there's a rat-tail spoon which heused to have on his dinner-table, and made a great fuss with, and a bitof Worcester china that used to stand on the mantelpiece, and adifferent cigarette case, and a bead-bag. I don't know where that samefrom, but if he inherited it, he didn't inherit much that time, Ipriced it at five shillings. But there's no settle in the treasure-caseor out of it, and if you want to know where that settle is, it's in OldPlace, because I saw it there myself, when the door was open, as Ipassed. He bought it--Mr Georgie--on behalf of Miss Bracely, unless yousuppose that Mr Georgie is going to live in Old Place one day and hisown house the next. No; it's Miss Bracely who is going to live at 'OldPlace' and that explains the landlord saying 'Miss' and then stopping. For some reason, and I daresay that won't puzzle me long, now I cangive my mind to it, she's making a secret about it, and only Mr Georgieand the landlord of the Arms know. Of course he had to, for 'Old Place'is his, and I wish I had bought it myself now, for he got it for an oldsong. "

"Well, by Jove, you have pieced it together finely, " said ColonelBoucher. 

"Wait a bit, " said Mrs Weston, rising to her climax. "This very day, when Mary, that's my cook as you know, was coming back from Brintonwith that bit of brill we've been eating, for they hadn't got an ounceof turbot, which I wanted, a luggage-train was standing at Riseholmestation, and they had just taken out of it a case that could have heldnothing but a grand piano. And if that's not enough for you, Colonel, there were two big dress-baskets as well, which I think must havecontained linen, for they were corded, and it took two men to move eachof them, so Mary said, and there's nothing so heavy as linen properlypacked, unless it's plate, and there printed on them in black--no, itwould be white, because the dress-baskets are black, were two initials, O. B. And if you can point to another O. B. In Riseholme I shall thinkI've lost my memory. "

At this moment of supreme climax, the telephone-bell rang in the hall, shrill through the noise of cracking walnuts, and in came Elizabethwith the news that Mr Georgie wanted to know if he might come in forhalf-an-hour and chat. If it had been Olga Bracely herself, she couldhardly have been more welcome; virtue (the virtue of observation andinference) was receiving its immediate reward. 

"Delighted; say I'm delighted, Elizabeth, " said Mrs Weston, "and now, Colonel, why should you sit all alone here, and I all alone in thedrawing room? Bring your decanter and your glass with you, and youshall spare me half a glass for myself, and if you can't guess what oneof the questions that I shall ask Mr Georgie is: well----"

Georgie made haste to avail himself of this hospitality for he wasbursting with the most important news that had been his since the nightof the burglaries. Today he had received permission to let it be knownthat Olga was coming to Old Place, for Mr Shuttleworth had beeninformed of the purchase and furnishing of the house, and had, asexpected, presented his wife with it, a really magnificent gift. So nowRiseholme might know, too, and Georgie, as eager as Hermes, if notquite so swift, tripped across to Mrs Weston's, on his delightfulerrand. It was, too, of the nature of just such a punitive expeditionas Georgie thoroughly enjoyed, for Lucia all this week had been ratherhaughty and cold with him for his firm refusal to tell her who thepurchaser of Old Place was. He had admitted that he knew, but had saidthat he was under promise not to reveal that, until permitted and Luciahad been haughty in consequence. She had, in fact, been so haughty thatwhen Georgie rang her up just now, before ringing Mrs Weston up, to askif he might spend an hour after dinner there, fully intending to tellher the great news, she had replied through her parlour-maid that shewas very busy at the piano. Very well, if she preferred the second andthird movements of the Moonlight Sonata, which she had seriously takenin hand, to Georgie's company, why, he would offer himself and hisgreat news elsewhere. But he determined not to bring it out at once;that sort of thing must be kept till he said it was time to go away. Then he would bring it out, and depart in the blaze of Success. 

He had brought a pretty piece of embroidery with him to occupy himselfwith, for his work had fallen into sad arrears during August, and hesettled himself comfortably down close to the light, so that at thecost of very little eye-strain, he need not put on his spectacles. 

"Any news?" he asked, according to the invariable formula. Mrs Westoncaught the Colonel's eye. She was not proposing to bring out hertremendous interrogation just yet. 

"Poor Mrs Antrobus. Toothache!" she said. "I was in the chemist's thismorning and who should come in but Miss Piggy, and she wanted a drop oflaudanum and had to say what it was for, and even then she had to signa paper. Very unpleasant, I call it, to be obliged to let a chemistknow that your mother has a toothache. But there it was, tell him shehad to, or go away without any laudanum. I don't know whether MrDoubleday wasn't asking more than he should, just out ofinquisitiveness, for I don't see what business it is of his. I knowwhat I should have said: 'Oh, Mr Doubleday, I want it to make laudanumtartlets, we are all so fond of laudanum tartlets. ' Something sharp andsarcastic like that, to show him his place. But I expect it did MrsAntrobus good, for there she was on the green in the afternoon, and herface wasn't swollen for I had a good look at her. Oh, and there wassomething I wanted to ask you, Mr Georgie, and I had it on the tip ofmy tongue a moment ago. We talked about it at dinner, the Colonel andI, while we were eating our bit of partridge, and I thought 'Mr Georgiewill be sure to be able to tell us, ' and if you didn't ring up on thetelephone immediately afterwards! That seemed just Providential, butwhat's the use of that, if I can't remember what it was that I wantedto ask you. "

This seemed a good opening for his startling news, but Georgie rejectedit, as it was too early yet. "I wonder what it could have been, " hesaid. 

"Well, it will come back to me presently, and here's our coffee, and Isee Elizabeth hasn't forgotten to bring a drop of something good foryou two gentlemen. And I don't say that I won't join you, if Elizabethwill bring another glass. What with a glass of Burgundy at my dinner, and a drop of brandy now, I shall be quite tipsy unless I take care. The Guru now, Mr Georgie, no, that's not what I wanted to ask youabout--but has there been any news of the Guru?"

For a moment in this juxtaposition of the topics of brandy and Guru, Georgie was afraid that something might have leaked out about thecontents of the cupboard in Othello. But it was evidently a chancecombination, for Mrs Weston went straight on without waiting for ananswer. 

"What a day that was, " she said, "when he and Miss Olga Bracely wereboth at Mrs Lucas' garden-party. Ah, now I've got it; now I know what Iwanted to ask. When will Miss Olga Bracely come to live at Old Place?Quite soon now, I suppose. "

If Georgie had not put down his embroidery with great expedition, hewould undoubtedly have pricked his finger. 

"But how on earth did you know she was coming at all?" he said. "I wasjust going to tell you that she was coming, as a great bit of news. Howtarsome! It's spoiled all my pleasure. "

"Haw, hum, not a very gallant speech, when you're talking to MrsWeston, " said the Colonel, who hated Georgie's embroidery. 

Luckily the pleasure in the punitive part of the expedition remainedand Georgie recovered himself. He had some news too; he could answerMrs Weston's question. 

"But it was to have been such a secret until the whole thing wasready, " he said. "I knew all along; I have known since the day of thegarden-party. No one but me, not even her husband. "

He was well rewarded for the recovery of his temper. Mrs Weston putdown her glass of something good untasted. 

"What?" she said. "Is she going to live here alone in hiding from him?Have they quarrelled so soon?"

Georgie had to disappoint her about this, and gave the authenticversion. 

"And she's coming next week, Monday probably, " he said. 

They were all now extremely happy, for Mrs Weston felt convinced thatnobody else had put two and two together with the same brilliant resultas herself, and Georgie was in the even superior position of havingknown the result without having to do any addition at all, and ColonelBoucher enjoyed the first fruits of it all. When they parted, havingthoroughly discussed it, the chief preoccupation in the minds of allwas the number of Riseholmites that each of them would be the first topass on the news to, Mrs Weston could tell Elizabeth that night, andColonel Boucher his bull-dogs, but the first blood was really drawn byGeorgie, who seeing a light in Mrs Quantock's drawing room when hereturned, dropped in for a moment and scored a right and left bytelling Robert who let him in, before going upstairs, and Mrs Quantockwhen he got there. It was impossible to do any more that night. 

Lucia was always very busy of a morning in polishing the sword andshield of Art, in order to present herself daily to her subjects inshining armour, and keep a little ahead of them all in culture, andthus did not as a rule take part in the parliament on the Green. Moreover Georgie usually dropped in before lunch, and her casualinterrogation "Any news?" as they sat down to the piano, elicited fromhim, as in a neat little jug, the cream of the morning's milkings. Today she was attired in her Teacher's Robe, for the elementary class, though not always now in full conclave, gathered at her house onTuesdays and Fridays. There had been signs of late that the interest ofher pupils was on the wane, for Colonel Boucher had not appeared fortwo meetings, nor had Mrs Weston come to the last, but it was part ofLucia's policy to let Guruism die a natural death without herselffacilitating its happy release, and she meant to be ready for her classat the appointed times as long as anybody turned up. Besides theTeacher's Robe was singularly becoming and she often wore it when therewas no question of teaching at all. 

But today, though she would not have been surprised at the completeabsence of pupils, she was still in consultation with her cook over thecommissariat of the day, when a succession of tinklings from themermaid's tail, announced that a full meeting was assembling. Her maidin fact had announced to her without pause except to go to the door andback, though it still wanted a few minutes to eleven, that ColonelBoucher, Mrs Weston, Mrs Antrobus and Piggy were all assembled in thesmoking-parlour. Even as she passed through the hall on her way 'there, Georgie came hurrying across Shakespeare's garden, his figure distortedthrough the wavy glass of the windows, and she opened the door to himherself. 

"_Georgino mio_, " she said, "oo not angry with Lucia for sayingshe was busy last night? And now I'm just going to take my Yoga-class. They all came rather early and I haven't seen any of them yet. Anynews?"

Georgie heaved a sigh; all Riseholme knew by this time, and he wasgoing to score one more by telling Lucia. 

"My dear, haven't you heard yet?" he asked. "I was going to tell youlast night. "

"The tenant of Old Place?" asked Lucia unerringly. 

"Yes. Guess!" said Georgie tantalizingly. This was his last revelationand he wanted to spin it out. 

Lucia decided on a great stroke, involving risks but magnificent if itcame off. In a flash she guessed why all the Yoga-class had come sosuper-punctually; each of them she felt convinced wanted to have thejoy of telling her, after everybody else knew, who the new tenant was. On the top of this bitterness was the added acrimony of Georgie, whoseclear duty it was to have informed her the moment he knew, wanting tomake the same revelation to her, last of all Riseholme. She had alreadyhad her suspicions, for she had not forgotten the fact that OlgaBracely and Georgie had played croquet all afternoon when they shouldhave been at her garden-party, and she determined to risk all for thesake of spoiling Georgie's pleasure in telling her. She gave hersilvery laugh, that started, so she had ascertained, on A flat abovethe treble clef. 

"_Georgino_, did all my questions as to who it was really take youin?" she asked. "Just as if I hadn't known all along! Why, Miss OlgaBracely, of course!"

Georgie's fallen face shewed her how completely she had spoiled hispleasure. 

"Who told you?" he asked. 

She rattled her tassels. 

"Little bird!" she said. "I must run away to my class, or they willscold me. "

Once again before they settled down to high philosophies, Lucia had thepleasure of disappointing the ambitions of her class to surprise, inform and astonish her. 

"Good morning to you all, " she said, "and before we settle down I'llgive you a little bit of news now that at last I'm allowed to. DearMiss Olga Bracely, whom I think you all met here, is coming to live atOld Place. Will she not be a great addition to our musical parties?Now, please. "

But this splendid bravado was but a scintillation, on a hard and highlypolished surface, and had Georgie been able to penetrate into Lucia'sheart he would have found complete healing for his recent severemortification. He did not really believe that Lucia had known allalong, like himself, who the new tenant was, for her enquiries hadseemed to be pointed with the most piercing curiosity, but, after all, Lucia (when she did not forget her part) was a fine actress, andperhaps all the time he thought he had been punishing her, she had beenfooling him. And, in any ease, he certainly had not had the joy oftelling her; whether she had guessed or really knew, it was she who hadtold him, and there was no getting over it. He went back straight homeand drew a caricature of her. 

But if Georgie was sitting with a clouded brow, Lucia was troubled bynothing less than a raging tornado of agitated thought. Though Olgawould undoubtedly be a great addition to the musical talent ofRiseholme, would she fall into line, and, for instance, "bring hermusic" and sing after dinner when Lucia asked her? As regards music, itwas possible that she might be almost too great an addition, and causethe rest of the gifted amateurs to sink into comparativeinsignificance. At present Lucia was high-priestess at every altar ofArt, and she could not think with equanimity of seeing anybody incharge of the ritual at any. Again to so eminent an opera-singer theremust be conceded a certain dramatic knowledge, and indeed Georgie hadoften spoken to Lucia of that superb moment when Brunnhilde woke andhailed the sun. Must Lucia give up the direction of dramatic art aswell as of music?

Point by point pricked themselves out of the general gloom, and hoisteddanger signals; then suddenly the whole was in blaze together. What ifOlga took the lead, not in this particular or in that, but attempted toconstitute herself supreme in the affairs of Riseholme? It was all verywell for her to be a brilliant bird of passage just for a couple ofdays, and drop so to speak, "a moulted feather, a eagle's feather" onLucia's party, thereby causing it to shine out from all previousfestivities, making it the Hightumest affair that had ever happened, but it was a totally different matter to contemplate her permanentresidence here. It seemed possible that then she might keep herfeathers to line her own eyrie. She thought of Belshazzar's feast, andthe writing of doom on the wall which she was Daniel enough tointerpret herself, "Thy kingdom is divided" it said, "and given to theBracelys or the Shuttleworths. "

She rallied her forces. If Olga meant to show herself that sort ofwoman, she should soon know with whom she had to deal. Not but whatLucia would give her the chance first of behaving with suitable loyaltyand obedience; she would even condescend to cooperate with her so longas it was perfectly clear that she aimed at no supremacy. But there wasonly one lawgiver in Riseholme, one court of appeal, one dispenser ofdestiny. 

Her own firmness of soul calmed and invigorated her, and changing herTeacher's Robe for a walking dress, she went out up the road that ledby Old Place, to see what could be observed of the interior fromoutside. 

Chapter TEN

One morning about the middle of October, Lucia was seated at breakfastand frowning over a note she had just received. It began without anyformality and was written in pencil. 

 "Do look in about half-past nine on Saturday and be silly for an hour or two. We'll play games and dance, shall we? Bring your husband of course, and don't bother to reply. 

 "O. B. "

"An invitation, " she said icily, as she passed it to her husband. "Rather short notice. "

"We're not doing anything, are we?" he asked. 

Peppino was a little imperceptive sometimes. 

"No, it wasn't that I meant, " she said. "But there's a little moreinformality about it than one would expect. "

"Probably it's an informal party, " said he. 

"It certainly seems most informal. I am not accustomed to be askedquite like that. "

Peppino began to be aware of the true nature of the situation. 

"I see what you mean, _cara_, " he said. "So don't let us go. Thenshe will take the hint perhaps. "

Lucia thought this over for a moment and found that she rather wantedto go. But a certain resentment that had been slowly accumulating inher mind for some days past began to leak out first, before sheconsented to overlook Olga's informality. 

"It is a fortnight since I called on her, " she said, "and she has noteven returned the call. I daresay they behave like that in London incertain circles, but I don't know that London is any better for it. "

"She has been away twice since she came, " said Peppino. "She has hardlybeen here for a couple of days together yet. "

"I may be wrong, " said Lucia. "No doubt I am wrong. But I should havethought that she might have spared half-an-hour out of these days byreturning my call. However, she thought not. "

Peppino suddenly recollected a thrilling piece of news which mostunaccountably he had forgotten to tell Lucia. 

"Dear me, something slipped my memory, " he said. "I met Mrs Westonyesterday afternoon, who told me that half an hour ago Miss Bracely hadseen her in her bath-chair and had taken the handles from Tommy Luton, and pushed her twice round the green, positively running. "

"That does not seem to me of very prime importance, " said Lucia, thoughshe was thrilled to the marrow. "I do not wonder it slipped yourmemory, _caro_. "

"_Carissima_, wait a minute. That is not all. She told Mrs Westonthat she would have returned her call, but that she hadn't got anycalling cards. "

"Impossible!" cried Lucia. "They could have printed them at 'Ye oldeBooke Shop' in an afternoon. "

"That may be so, indeed, if you say so, it is, " said Peppino. "Anyhowshe said she hadn't got any calling cards, and I don't see why sheshould lie about it. "

"No, it is not the confession one would be likely to make, " said she, "unless it was true. Or even if it was, " she added. 

"Anyhow it explains why she has not been here, " said Peppino. "Shewould naturally like to do everything in order, when she called on you, _carissima_. It would have been embarrassing if you were out, andshe could not hand in her card. "

"And about Mr Shuttleworth?" asked she in an absent voice, as if shehad no real interest in her question. 

"He has not been seen yet at all, as far as I can gather. "

"Then shall we have no host, if we drop in tomorrow night?"

"Let us go and see, _cara_, " said he gaily. 

Apart from this matter of her call not being returned, Lucia had not asyet had any reason to suspect Olga of revolutionary designs on thethrone. She had done odd things, pushing Mrs Weston's chair round thegreen was one of them, smoking a cigarette as she came back from churchon Sunday was another, but these she set down to the Bohemianism andwant of polish which might be expected from her upbringing, if youcould call an orphan school at Brixton an upbringing at all. Thisterrific fact Georgie had let slip in his stern determination to knowtwice as much about Olga as anybody else, and Lucia had treasured it. She had in the last fortnight labelled Olga as "rather common, "retaining, however, a certain respect for her professional career, given that that professional career was to be thrown down as a carpetfor her own feet. But, after all, if Olga was a bit Bohemian in her wayof life, as exhibited by the absence of calling cards, Lucia wasperfectly ready to overlook that (confident in the refining influenceof Riseholme), and to go to the informal party next day, if she felt sodisposed, for no direct answer was asked for. 

There was a considerable illumination in the windows of Old Place whenshe and Peppino set out after dinner next night to go to the "silly"party, kindly overlooking the informality and the absence of a returnvisit to her call. It had been a sloppy day of rain, and, as wasnatural, Lucia carried some very smart indoor shoes in a paper-parceland Peppino had his Russian goloshes on. These were immense snow-boots, in which his evening shoes were completely encased, but Lucia preferrednot to disfigure her feet to that extent, and was clad in neatwalking-boots which she could exchange for her smart satin footwearin the cloak-room. The resumption of walking-boots when the eveningwas over was rather a feature among the ladies and was called "Thecobbler's at-home. " The two started rather late, for it was fittingthat Lucia should be the last to arrive. 

They had come to the door of the Old Place, and Peppino was fumblingin the dark for the bell, when Lucia gave a little cry of agony andput her hands over her ears, just as if she had been seized with adouble-earache of peculiar intensity. 

"Gramophone, " she said faintly. 

There could be no doubt about that. From the window close at hand cameout the excruciating strains of a very lusty instrument, and the recordwas that of a vulgar "catchy" waltz-tune, taken down from a brass-band. All Riseholme knew what her opinion about gramophones was; to the loverof Beethoven they were like indecent and profane language loudly usedin a public place. Only one, so far as was known, had ever come toRiseholme, and that was introduced by the misguided Robert Quantock. Once he had turned it on in her presence, but the look of agony whichcrossed her face was such that he had to stop it immediately. Then thedoor was opened, and the abominable noise poured out in increasedvolume. 

Lucia paused for a moment in indecision. Would it be the great, themagnificent thing to go home without coming in, trusting to Peppino tolet it be widely known what had turned her back from the door? Therewas a good deal to be said for that, for it would be living up to herown high and immutable standards. On the other hand she particularlywanted to see what standard of entertaining Olga was initiating. The"silly evening" was quite a new type of party, for since she haddirected and controlled the social side of things there had been no"silly evenings" of any kind in Riseholme, and it might be a good thingto ensure the failure of this (in case she did not like it) by settingthe example of a bored and frosty face. But if she went in, thegramophone must be stopped. She would sit and wince, and Peppino mustexplain her feeling about gramophones. That would be a suitableexhibition of authority. Or she might tell Olga. 

Lucia put on her satin shoes, leaving her boots till the hour of thecobbler's at-home came, and composing her face to a suitable wince wasled by a footman on tiptoe to the door of the big music room whichGeorgie had spoken of. 

"If you'll please to step in very quietly, ma'am, " he said. 

The room was full of people; all Riseholme was there, and since therewere not nearly enough chairs (Lucia saw _that_ at once) a largenumber were sitting on the floor on cushions. At the far end of theroom was a slightly-raised dais, to the corner of which the grand pianohad been pushed, on the top of which, with its braying trumpet pointingstraight at Lucia was an immense gramophone. On the dais was Olgadancing. She was dressed in some white soft fabric shimmering withsilver, which left her beautiful arms bare to the shoulder. It was cutsquarely and simply about the neck, and hung in straight folds down tojust above her ankles. She held in her hands some long shimmering scarfof brilliant red, that floated and undulated as she moved, as ifinspired by some life of its own that it drew out of her slim superbvitality. From the cloud of shifting crimson, with the slow billows ofsilver moving rhythmically round her body, that beautiful face lookedout deliciously smiling and brimming with life. .. . 

Lucia had hardly entered when with a final bray the gramophone came tothe end of its record, and Olga swept a great curtsey, threw down herscarf, and stepped off the dais. Georgie was sitting on the floor closeto it, and jumped up, leading the applause. For a moment, thoughseveral heads had been turned at Lucia's entrance, nobody took theslightest notice of her, indeed, the first apparently to recognize herpresence was her hostess, who just kissed her hand to her, and thencontinued talking to Georgie. Then Olga threaded her way through thebesprinkled floor, and came up to her. 

"How wise you were to miss that very poor performance, " she said. "ButMr Georgie insisted that I should make a fool of myself. "

"Indeed, I am sorry not to have been here for it, " said Lucia in hermost stately manner. "It seemed to me very far from being a poorperformance, very far indeed. _Caro mio_, you remember MissBracely. "

"_Si, si molto bene_, " said Peppino, shaking hands. 

"Ah, and you talk Italian, " said Olga. "_Che bella lingua!_ I wishI knew it. "

"You have a very good pronunciation, " said Lucia. 

"_Tante grazie_. You know everyone here of course. Now, what shallwe do next? Clumps or charades or what? Ah, there are some cigarettes. Won't you have one?"

Lucia gave a little scream of dismay. 

"A cigarette for me? That would be a very odd thing, " she said. Thenrelenting, as she remembered that Olga must be excused for herignorance, she added: "You see I never smoke. Never. "

"Oh, you should learn, " said Olga. "Now let's play clumps. Doeseveryone know clumps? If they don't they will find out. Or shall wedance? There's the gramophone to dance to. "

Lucia put up her hands in playful petition. 

"Oh please, no gramophone!" she said. 

"Oh, don't you like it?" said Olga. "It's so horrible that I adore it, as I adore dreadful creatures in an aquarium. But I think we won'tdance till after supper. We'll have supper extremely soon, partlybecause I am dying of famine, and partly because people are sillierafterwards. But just one game of clumps first. Let's see; there are butenough for four clumps. Please make four clumps everybody, and--andwill you and two more go out with Mr Georgie, Mrs Lucas? We will be asquick as we can, and we won't think of anything that will make MrGeorgie blush. Oh, there he is! He heard!"

Olga's intense enjoyment of her own party was rapidly galvanizingeverybody into a much keener gaiety than was at all usual in Riseholme, where as a rule, the hostess was somewhat anxious and watchful, fearingthat her guests were not amusing themselves, and that the sandwicheswould give out. There was a sit-down supper when the clumps were over(Mrs Quantock had been the first to guess Beethoven's little toe on hisright foot, which made Lucia wince) and there were not enough men andmaids to wait, and so people foraged for themselves, and Olga paradedup and down the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a dishof lobster-salad in the other. She sat for a minute or two first at onetable and then at another, and asked silly riddles, and sent to thekitchen for a ham, and put out all the electric light by mistake, whenshe meant to turn on some more. Then when supper was over they all tooktheir seats back into the music-room and played musical chairs, at theend of which Mrs Quantock was left in with Olga, and it was believedthat she said "Damn, " when Mrs Quantock won. Georgie was in charge ofthe gramophone which supplied deadly music, quite forgetting that thiswas agony to Lucia, and not even being aware when she made a sign toPeppino, and went away having a cobbler's at-home all to herself. Nobody noticed when Saturday ended and Sunday began, for Georgie andColonel Boucher were cock-fighting on the floor, Georgie screaming out"How tarsome" when he was upset, and Colonel Boucher very red in theface saying "Haw, hum. Never thought I should romp again like this. ByJove, most amusing!" Georgie was the last to leave and did not noticetill he was half-way home that he had a ham-frill adorning his shirtfront. He hoped that it had been Olga who put it there, when he had towalk blind-fold across the floor and try to keep in a straight line. 

Riseholme got up rather late next morning, and had to hurry over itsbreakfast in order to be in time for church. There was a slight feelingof reaction abroad, and a sense of having been young and amused, and ofwaking now to the fact of church-bells and middle-age. Colonel Bouchersinging the bass of "A few more years shall roll, " felt his mindinstinctively wandering to the cock-fight the evening before, anddepressedly recollecting that a considerable number of years had rolledalready. Mrs Weston, with her bath-chair in the aisle and Tommy Lutonto hand her hymn-book and prayer-book as she required, looked sidewaysat Mrs Quantock, and thought how strange it was that Daisy, so fewhours ago, had been racing round a solitary chair with Georgie's fingeron the gramophone, while Georgie, singing tenor by Colonel Boucher'sample side, saw with keen annoyance that there was a stain of tarnishedsilver on his forefinger, accounted for by the fact that afterbreakfast he had been cleaning the frame which held the photograph ofOlga Bracely and had been astonished to hear the church-bellsbeginning. Another conducement to depression on his part was the factthat he was lunching with Lucia, and he could not imagine what Lucia'sattitude would be towards the party last night. She had come to churchrather late, having no use for the General Confession, and sang withstony fervour. She wore her usual church-face, from which nothingwhatever could be gathered. A great many stealthy glances right andleft from everybody failed to reveal the presence of their hostess oflast night. Georgie, in particular, was sorry for this; he would haveliked her to show that capacity for respectable seriousness which herpresence at church that morning would have implied; while Lucia, inparticular, was glad of this, for it confirmed her view that MissBracely was not, nor could ever be, a true Riseholmite. She had thoughtas much last night, and had said so to Peppino. She proposed to say thesame to Georgie today. 

Then came a stupefying surprise as Mr Rumbold walked from his stall tothe pulpit for the sermon. Generally he gave out the number of theshort anthem which accompanied this manoeuvre, but today he made nosuch announcement. A discreet curtain hid the organist from thecongregation, and veiled his gymnastics with the stops and his anticdancing on the pedals, and now when Mr Rumbold moved from his stall, there came from the organ the short introduction to Bach's "MeinGlaubige Herz, " which even Lucia had allowed to be nearly "equal" toBeethoven. And then came the voice. .. . 

The reaction after the romp last night went out like a snuffed candleat this divine singing, which was charged with the joyfulness of someheavenly child. It grew low and soft, it rang out again, it lingeredand tarried, it quickened into the ultimate triumph. No singing couldhave been simpler, but that simplicity could only have sprung from thehighest art. But now the art was wholly unconscious; it was part of thesinger who but praised God as the thrushes do. She who had made gaietylast night, made worship this morning. 

As they sat down for the discourse, Colonel Boucher discreetlywhispered to Georgie "By Jove. " And Georgie rather more audiblyanswered "Adorable. " Mrs Weston drew a half-a-crown from her purseinstead of her usual shilling, to be ready for the offertory, and MrsQuantock wondered if she was too old to learn to sing. 

Georgie found Lucia very full of talk that day at luncheon, and wasmarkedly more Italian than usual. Indeed she put down an Italiangrammar when he entered the drawing-room, and covered it up with theessays of Antonio Caporelli. This possibly had some connection with thefact that she had encouraged Olga last night with regard to herpronunciation. 

"_Ben arrivato, Georgio_, " she said. "_Ho finito il libro diAntonio Caporelli quanta memento. E magnifico!_"

Georgie thought she had finished it long ago, but perhaps he wasmistaken. The sentence flew off Lucia's tongue as if it was perchedthere all quite ready. 

"_Sono un poco fatigata dopo il_--dear me how rusty I am gettingin Italian for I can't remember the word, " she went on. "Anyhow I am alittle tired after last night. A delightful little party, was it not?It was clever of Miss Bracely to get so many people together at soshort a notice. Once in a while that sort of romp is very well. "

"I enjoyed it quite enormously, " said Georgie. 

"I saw you did, _cattivo ragazzo_, " said she. "You quite forgotabout your poor Lucia and her horror of that dreadful gramophone. I hadto exert all the calmness that Yoga has given me not to scream. But youwere naughty with the gramophone over those musical chairs--unmusicalchairs, as I said to Peppino, didn't I, _caro_?--taking it off andputting it on again so suddenly. Each time I thought it was the end. _E pronta la colazione. Andiamo_. "

Presently they were seated; the menu, an unusual thing in itself atluncheon, was written in Italian, the scribe being clearly Lucia. 

"I shall want a lot of Georgino's _tempo_ this week, " she said, "for Peppino and I have quite settled we must give a little afterdinner party next Saturday, and I want you to help me to arrange someimpromptu tableaux. Everything impromptu must just be sketched outfirst, and I daresay Miss Bracely worked a great deal at her dance lastnight and I wish I had seen more of it. She was a little awkward in themanagement of her draperies I thought, but I daresay she does not knowmuch about dancing. Still it was very graceful and effective for anamateur, and she carried it off very well. "

"Oh, but she is not quite an amateur, " said Georgie. "She has played inSalome. "

Lucia pursed her lips. 

"Indeed, I am sorry she played in that, " she said. "With herundoubtedly great gifts I should have thought she might have found aworthier object. Naturally I have not heard it. I should be very muchashamed to be seen there. But about our tableaux now. Peppino thoughtwe might open with the Execution of Mary Queen of Scots. It is adreadful thing that I have lost my pearls. He would be the executionerand you the priest. Then I should like to have the awakening ofBrunnhilde. "

"That would be lovely, " said Georgie. "Have you asked Miss Olga if shewill?"

"_Georgino mio_, you don't quite understand, " said Lucia. "Thisparty is to be for Miss Bracely. I was her guest last night in spite ofthe gramophone, and indeed I hope she will find nothing in my housethat jars on her as much as her gramophone jarred on me. I had adreadful nightmare last night--didn't I, Peppino?--in consequence. About the Brunnhilde tableaux, I thought Peppino would be Siegfried--andperhaps you could learn just fifteen or twenty bars of the music andplay it while the curtain was up. You can play the same over againif it is encored. Then how about King Cophetua and the beggar-maid. Ishould be with my back to the audience, and should not turn round atall; it would be quite your tableaux. We will just sketch them out, asI said, and have a grouping or two to make sure we don't get in eachother's way, and I will see that there are some dresses of some kindwhich we can just throw on. The tableaux with a little music, seriousmusic, would be quite sufficient to keep everybody interested. "

By this time Georgie had got a tolerable inkling of the import of allthis. It was not at present to be war; it was to be magnificentrivalry, a throwing down perhaps of a gauntlet, which none wouldventure to pick up. To confirm this view, Lucia went on with gatheringanimation. 

"I do not propose to have games, romps shall I call them?" she said, "for as far as I know Riseholme, and perhaps I know it a little betterthan dear Miss Bracely, Riseholme does not care for that sort of thing. It is not quite in our line; we may be right or wrong, I am sure I donot know, but as a matter of fact, we _don't_ care for that sortof thing. Dear Miss Bracely did her very best last night; I am sure shewas prompted only by the most hospitable motives, but how should sheknow? The supper too. Peppino counted nineteen empty champagnebottles. "

"Eighteen, _carissima_, " said Peppino. 

"I think you told me nineteen, _caro_, but it makes very littledifference. Eighteen empty champagne bottles standing on the sideboard, and no end to the caviare sandwiches which were left over. It was alltoo much, though there were not nearly enough chairs, and indeed Inever got one at all except just at supper. "

Lucia leaned forward over the table, with her hands clasped. 

"There was display about it, _Georgino_, and you know how I hatedisplay, " she said. "Shakespeare was content with the most modestscenery for his masterpieces, and it would be a great mistake if weallowed ourselves to be carried away by mere wasteful opulence. In allthe years I have lived here, and contributed in my humble way to thelife of the place, I have heard no complaints about my suppers or teas, nor about the quality of entertainment which I offer my guests whenthey are so good as to say '_Si_, ' to _le mie invitazione_. Art is not advanced by romping, and we are able to enjoy ourselveswithout two hundred caviare sandwiches being left over. And suchwasteful cutting of the ham; I had to slice the chunk she gave me overand over again before I could eat it. "

Georgie felt he could not quite let this pass. 

"Well, I had an excellent supper, " he said, "and I enjoyed it verymuch. Besides, I saw Peppino tucking in like anything. Ask him what hethought of it. "

Lucia gave her silvery laugh. 

"_Georgino_, you are a boy, " she said artfully, "and 'tuck in' asyou so vulgarly call it without thinking, I'm saying nothing againstthe supper, but I'm sure that Peppino and Colonel Boucher would havefelt better this morning if they had been wiser last night. But that'snot the real point. I want to show Miss Bracely, and I'm sure she willbe grateful for it, the sort of entertainment that has contented us atRiseholme for so long. I will frame it on her lines; I will ask all andsundry to drop in with just a few hours' notice, as she did. Everythingshall be good, and there shall be about it all something that I seemedto miss last night. There was a little bit--how shall I say it?--alittle bit of the footlights about it all. And the footlights didn'tseem to me to have been extinguished at church-time this morning. Thesinging of that very fine aria was theatrical, I can't call it lessthan theatrical. "

She fixed Georgie with her black beady eye, and smoothed her undulatedhair. 

"Theatrical, " she said again. "Now let us have our coffee in themusic-room. Shall Lucia play a little bit of Beethoven to take outany nasty taste of gramophone? Me no likey gramophone at all. Nebber!"

Georgie now began to feel himself able to sympathise with thatsurfeited swain who thought how happy he could be with either, weret'other dear charmer away. Certainly he had been very happy with Luciaall these years, before t'other dear charmer alighted in Riseholme, andnow he felt that should Lucia decide, as she had often so nearlydecided, to spend the winter on the Riviera, Riseholme would still be avery pleasant place of residence. He never was quite sure how seriouslyshe had contemplated a winter on the Riviera, for the mere mention ofit had always been enough to make him protest that Riseholme could notpossibly exist without her, but today, as he sat and heard (rather thanlistened to) a series of slow movements, with a brief and hazardousattempt at the scherzo of the "Moonlight, " he felt that if any talk ofthe Riviera came up, he would not be quite so insistent as to theimpossibility of Riseholme continuing to exist without her. He could, for instance, have existed perfectly well this Sunday afternoon ifLucia had been even at Timbuctoo or the Antipodes, for as he went awaylast night, Olga had thrown a casual intimation to him that she wouldbe at home, if he had nothing better to do, and cared to drop in. Certainly he had nothing better to do but he had something worse todo. .. . 

Peppino was sitting in the window-seat, with eyes closed, because helistened to music better so, and with head that nodded occasionally, presumably for the same reason. But the cessation of the slow movementnaturally made him cease to listen, and he stirred and gave the sighwith which Riseholme always acknowledged the end of a slow movement. Georgie sighed too, and Lucia sighed; they all sighed, and then Luciabegan again. So Peppino closed his eyes again, and Georgie continuedhis mental analysis of the situation. 

At present, so he concluded, Lucia did not mean war. She meant, as bysome great armed demonstration, to exhibit the Riseholme spirit in itsfull panoply, and then crush into dazzled submission any potentialrivalry. She meant also to exert an educational influence, for sheallowed that Olga had great gifts, and she meant to train and refinethose gifts so that they might, when exercised under benign butautocratic supervision, conduce to the strength and splendour ofRiseholme. Naturally she must be loyally and ably assisted, and Georgierealized that the tableau of King Cophetua (his tableau as she hadsaid) partook of the nature of a bribe, and, if that word wasinvidious, of a raising of his pay. It was equally certain that thisprolonged recital of slow movements was intended to produce in his minda vivid consciousness of the contrast between the romp last night andthe present tranquil hour, and it did not fail in this respect. 

Lucia shut the piano-lid, and almost before they had given their sighs, spoke. 

"I think I will have a little dinner-party first, " she said. "I willask Lady Ambermere. That will make us four, with you Georgie, and MissBracely and Mr Shuttleworth will make six. The rest I shall ask to comein at nine, for I know Lady Ambermere does not like late hours. And nowshall we talk over our tableaux?"

So even Lucia's mind had not been wholly absorbed in Beethoven, thoughGeorgie, as usual, told her she had never played so divinely. 

Chapter ELEVEN

The manoeuvres of the next week became so bewilderingly complicatedthat by Wednesday Georgie was almost thinking of going away to theseaside with Foljambe and Dicky in sheer despair, and in after years hecould not without great mental effort succeed in straightening it allout, and the effort caused quite a buzzing in his head. .. . That Sundayevening Lucia sent an invitation to Lady Ambermere for "dinner andtableaux, " to which Lady Ambermere's "people" replied by telephone onMonday afternoon that her ladyship was sorry to be unable. Luciatherefore gave up the idea of a dinner-party, and reverted to heroriginal scheme of an evening party like Olga's got up on the spur ofthe moment, with great care and most anxious preparation. Therehearsals for the impromptu tableaux meantime went steadily forwardbehind closed doors, and Georgie wrestled with twenty bars of the musicof the "Awakening of Brunnhilde. " Lucia intended to ask nobody untilFriday evening, and Olga should see what sort of party Riseholme couldraise at a moment's notice. 

Early on Tuesday morning the devil entered into Daisy Quantock, probably by means of subconscious telepathy, and she proceeded to goround the green at the morning parliament, and ask everybody to come infor a good romp on Saturday evening, and they all accepted. Georgie, Lucia and Olga were absentees, and so, making a house-to-housevisitation she went first to Georgie. He with secret knowledge of thetableaux (indeed he was stitching himself a robe to be worn by KingCophetua at the time and hastily bundling it under the table) regrettedthat he was already engaged. This was rather mysterious, but he mighthave planned, for all Mrs Quantock knew, an evening when he would be"busy indoors, " and since those evenings were never to be pried upon, she asked no questions, but went off to Lucia's to give her invitationthere. There again she was met with a similarly mysterious refusal. Lucia much regretted that she and Peppino were unable to come, and shehoped Daisy would have a lovely party. Even as she spoke, she heard hertelephone bell ringing, and hurried off to find that Georgie, faithfullieutenant, was acquainting her with the fact that Mrs Quantock wasplanning a party for Saturday; he did not know how far she had got. Atthat moment she had got just half-way to Old Place, walking at unusualspeed. Lucia grasped the situation with amazing quickness, and cuttingoff Georgie with a snap, she abandoned all idea of her party beingimpromptu, and rang up Olga. She would secure her anyhow. .. . 

The telephone was in the hall, and Olga, with her hat on, was justpreparing to go out, when the bell sounded. The words of gratefulacceptance were on her very lips when her front-door bell rang too, very long and insistently and had hardly left off when it began again. Olga opened the door herself and there was Mrs Quantock on the doorstepwith her invitation for Saturday night. She was obliged to refuse, butpromised to look in, if she was not very late in getting away from MrsLucas's (and pop went the cat out of the bag). Another romp would belovely. 

Already the evils of decentralisation and overlapping were becomingmanifest. Lucia rang up house after house, only to find that itsinhabitants were already engaged. She had got Olga and Georgie, andcould begin the good work of education and the crushing of rivalry, notby force but by pure and refined example, but Mrs Quantock had goteverybody else. In the old days this could never have happened foreverything devolved round one central body. Now with the appearance ofthis other great star, all the known laws of gravity and attractionwere upset. 

Georgie, again summoned to the telephone, recommended an appeal to MrsQuantock's better nature, which Lucia rejected, doubting whether shehad one. 

"But what about the tableaux?" asked Georgie. "We three can't very welldo tableaux for Miss Olga to look at. "

Then Lucia showed herself truly great. 

"The merit of the tableaux does not consist in the number of theaudience, " she said. 

She paused a moment. 

"Have you got the Cophetua-robe to set properly?" she asked. 

"Oh, it'll do, " said Georgie dejectedly. 

On Tuesday afternoon Olga rang up Lucia again to say that her husbandwas arriving that day, so might she bring him on Saturday? To thisLucia cordially assented, but she felt that a husband and wife sittingtogether and looking at another husband and wife doing tableaux wouldbe an unusual entertainment, and not characteristic of Riseholme'sbest. She began to waver about the tableaux and to consider dinnerinstead. She also wondered whether she had been wronging dear Daisy, and whether she had a better nature after all. Perhaps Georgie mightascertain. 

Georgie was roused from a little fatigued nap by the telephone, for hehad fallen asleep over King Cophetua's robe. Lucia explained thesituation and delicately suggested that it would be so easy for him to"pop in" to dear Daisy's, and be very diplomatic. There was nobody likeGeorgie for tact. So with a heavy yawn he popped in. 

"You've come about this business on Saturday, " said Daisy unerringly. "Haven't you?"

Georgie remembered his character for tact. 

"How wonderful of you to guess that!" he said. "I thought we might seeif we couldn't arrange something, if we put our heads together. It'ssuch a pity to split up. We-I mean Lucia has got Miss Olga and herhusband coming, and----"

"And I've got everybody else, " said Daisy brightly. "And Miss Bracelyis coming over here, if she gets away early. Probably with such a smallparty she will. "

"Oh, I shouldn't count on that, " said he. "We are having some tableaux, and they always take longer than you think. Dear me, I shouldn't havesaid that, as they were to be impromptu, but I really believe my headis going. You know how thorough Lucia is; she is taking a great deal oftrouble about them. "

"I hadn't heard about that, " said Mrs Quantock. 

She thought a moment. 

"Well; I don't want to spoil Lucia's evening, " she said, "for I'm surenothing could be so ridiculous as three people doing tableaux for twoothers. And on the other hand, I don't want her to spoil mine, forwhat's to prevent her going on with the tableaux till church-time nextmorning if she wishes to keep Miss Bracely away from my house? I'm sureafter the way she behaved about my Guru---- Well, never mind that. Howwould it be if we had the tableaux first at Lucia's, and then came onhere? If Lucia cares to suggest that to me, and my guests consent, Idon't mind doing that. "

By six o'clock on Tuesday evening therefore all the telephone bells ofRiseholme were merrily ringing again. Mrs Quantock stipulated thatLucia's party should end at 10. 45 precisely, if it didn't end before, and that everyone should then be free to flock across to her house. Sheproposed a romp that should even outshine Olga's, and was deep in thestudy of a manual of "Round Games, " which included "Hunt theSlipper. ". .. 

Georgie and Peppino took turns at the telephone, ringing up all MrsQuantock's guests, and informing them of the double pleasure whichawaited them on Saturday. Since Georgie had let out the secret of theimpromptu tableaux to Mrs Quantock there was no reason why the rest ofRiseholme should not learn of this firsthand from The Hurst, instead ofsecond-hand (with promises not to repeat it) from Mrs Quantock. Itappeared that she had a better nature than Lucia credited her with, but to expect her not to tell everybody about the tableaux would beputting virtue to an unfair test. 

"So that's all settled, " said Georgie, as he returned with the lastacceptance, "and how fortunately it has happened after all. But what aday it has been. Nothing but telephoning from morning till night. If wego on like this the company will pay a dividend this year, and returnus some of our own pennies. "

Lucia had got a quantity of pearl beads and was stringing them for thetableau of Mary Queen of Scots. 

"Now that everyone knows, " she said, "we might allow ourselves a littlemore elaboration in our preparations. There is an Elizabethan axe atthe Ambermere Arms which I might borrow for Peppino. Then about theBrunnhilde tableau. It is dawn, is it not? We might have the stagequite dark when the curtain goes up, and turn up a lamp very slowlybehind the scene, so that it shines on my face. A lamp being turned upvery slowly is wonderfully effective. It produces a perfect illusion. Could you manage that with one hand and play the music of the awakeningwith the other, Georgino?"

"I'm quite sure I couldn't, " said he. 

"Well then Peppino must do it before he comes on. We will have movementin this tableau; I think that will be quite a new idea. Peppino shallcome in--just two steps--when he has turned the lamp up, and he willtake off my shield and armour----"

"But the music will never last out, " cried Georgie. "I shall have tostart earlier. "

"Yes, perhaps that would be better, " said Lucia calmly. "That realpiece of chain-armour too, I am glad I remembered Peppino had that. Marshall is cleaning it now, and it will give a far finer effect thanthe tawdry stuff they use in opera. Then I sit up very slowly, and wavefirst my right arm and then my left, and then both. I should like topractise that now on the sofa!"

Lucia had just lain down, when the telephone sounded again and Georgiegot up. 

"That's to announce a dividend, " he said, and tripped into the hall. 

"Is that Mrs Lucas'?" said a voice he knew. 

"Yes, Miss Olga, " he said, "and this is me. "

"Oh, Mr Georgie, how fortunate, " she said. "You can give my message nowto Mrs Lucas, can't you? I'm a perfect fool, you know, and horriblyforgetful. "

"What's the matter?" asked Georgie faintly. 

"It's about Saturday. I've just remembered that Georgie and I--not you, you know--are going away for the week, end. Will you tell Mrs Lucas howsorry I am?"

Georgie went back to the music room, where Lucia had just got both herarms waving. But at the sight of his face she dropped them and took afirm hold of herself. 

"Well, what is it?" she said. 

Georgie gave the message, and she got off the sofa, rising to her feet, while her mind rose to the occasion. 

"I am sorry that Miss Bracely will not see our tableaux, " she said. "But as she was not acting in them I do not know that it makes muchdifference. "

A deadly flatness, although Olga's absence made no difference, descended on the three. Lucia did not resume her arm-work, for afterall these years her acting might be supposed to be good enough forRiseholme without further practice, and nothing more was heard of theborrowing of the axe from the Ambermere Arms. But having begun tothread her pearl-beads, she finished them; Georgie, however, cared nolonger whether the gold border of King Cophetua's mantle went quiteround the back or not, and having tacked on the piece he was workingat, rolled it up. It was just going to be an ordinary party, after all. His cup was empty. 

But Lucia's was not yet quite full, for at this moment Miss Lyall'spony hip-bath stopped at the gate, and a small stableboy presented anote, which required an answer. In spite of all Lucia's self-control, the immediate answer it got was a flush of heightened colour. 

"Mere impertinence, " she said. "I will read it aloud. "

 "Dear Mrs Lucas, "I was in Riseholme this morning, and learn from Mrs Weston that Miss Bracely will be at your house on Saturday night. So I shall be enchanted to come to dinner after all. You must know that I make a rule of not going out in the evening, except for some special reason, but it would be a great pleasure to hear her sing again. I wonder if you would have dinner at 7:30 instead of 8, as I do not like being out very late. "

There was a short pause. 

_"Caro, "_ said Lucia, trembling violently, "perhaps you wouldkindly tell Miss Lyall that I do not expect Miss Bracely on Saturday, and that I do not expect Lady Ambermere either. "

"My dear--" he began. 

"I will do it myself then, " she said. 

It was as Georgie walked home after the delivery of this message thathe wanted to fly away and be at rest with Foljambe and Dicky. He hadbeen frantically excited ever since Sunday at the idea of doingtableaux before Olga, and today in especial had been a mere feverishhash of telephoning and sewing which all ended in nothing at all, forneither tableaux nor romps seemed to hold the least attraction for himnow that Olga was not going to be there. And then all at once it dawnedon him that he must be in love with Olga, for why else should herpresence or absence make such an astounding difference to him? Hestopped dead opposite Mrs Quantock's mulberry tree. 

"More misery! More unhappiness!" he said to himself. Really if life atRiseholme was to become a series of agitated days ending in devastatingdiscoveries, the sooner he went away with Foljambe and Dicky thebetter. He did not quite know what it was like to be in love, for thenearest he had previously ever got to it was when he saw Olga awake onthe mountain-top and felt that he had missed his vocation in not beingSiegfried, but from that he guessed. This time, too, it was about Olga, not about her as framed in the romance of legend and song, but of heras she appeared at Riseholme, taking as she did now, an ecstaticinterest in the affairs of the place. So short a time ago, when shecontemplated coming here first, she had spoken of it as a lazybackwater. Now she knew better than that, for she could listen to MrsWeston far longer than anybody else, and ask for more histories wheneven she had run dry. And yet Lucia seemed hardly to interest her atall. Georgie wondered why that was. 

He raised his eyes as he muttered these desolated syllables and therewas Olga just letting herself out of the front garden of the Old Place. Georgie's first impulse was to affect not to see her, and turn into hisbachelor house, but she had certainly seen him, and made so shrill andpiercing a whistle on her fingers that, pretend as he would not to haveseen her, it was ludicrous to appear not to have heard her. Shebeckoned to him. 

"Georgie, the most awful thing has happened, " she said, as they camewithin speaking distance. "Oh, I called you Georgie by mistake then. When one once does that, one must go on doing it on purpose. Guess!"she said in the best Riseholme manner. 

"You can come to Lucia's party after all, " said he. 

"No, I can't. Well, you'll never guess because you move in such highcircles, so I'll tell you. Mrs Weston's Elizabeth is going to bemarried to Colonel Boucher's Atkinson. I don't know his Christian name, nor her surname, but they're the ones!"

"You don't say so!" said Georgie, stung for a moment out of his owntroubles. "But will they both leave? What will either of the others do?Mrs Weston can't have a manservant, and how on earth is she to get onwithout Elizabeth? Besides----"

A faint flush mounted to his cheek. 

"I know. You mean babies, " said Olga ruthlessly. "Didn't you?"

"Yes, " said Georgie. 

"Then why not say so? You and I were babies once, though no one is oldenough to remember that, and we shouldn't have liked our parents andfriends to have blushed when they mentioned us. Georgie, you are aprude. "

"No, I'm not, " said Georgie, remembering he was probably in love with amarried woman. 

"It doesn't matter whether you are or not. Now there's only one thingthat can happen to Mrs Weston and the Colonel. They must marry eachother too. Then Atkinson can continue to be Colonel Boucher's man andElizabeth the parlour-maid, unless she is busy with what made youblush. Then they can get help in; you will lend them Foljambe, forinstance. It's time you began to be of some good in your wicked selfishlife. So that's settled. It only remains for us to make them marry eachother. "

"Aren't you getting on rather fast?" asked Georgie. 

"I'm not getting on at all at present I'm only talking. Come into myhouse instantly, and we'll drink vermouth. Vermouth always makes mebrilliant unless it makes me idiotic, but we'll hope for the best. "

Presently they were seated in Olga's music-room, with a bottle ofvermouth between them. 

"Now drink fair, Georgie, " she said, "and as you drink tell me allabout the young people's emotional history. "

"Atkinson and Elizabeth?" asked Georgie. 

"No, my dear; Colonel Boucher and Mrs Weston. They have an emotionalhistory. I am sure you all thought they were going to marry each otheronce. And they constantly dine together tete-a-tete. Now that's a verygood start. Are you quite sure he hasn't got a wife and family in Egypt, or she a husband and family somewhere else? I don't want to rake upfamily skeletons. "

"I've never heard of them, " said Georgie. 

"Then we'll take them as non-existent. You certainly would have heardof them if there were any, and very likely if there weren't. And theyboth like eating, drinking and the latest intelligence. Don't they?"

"Yes. But----"

"But what? What more do you or they want? Isn't that a better start formarried life than many people get?"

"But aren't they rather old?" asked Georgie. 

"Not much older than you and me, and if it wasn't that I've got my ownGeorgie, I would soon have somebody else's. Do you know who I mean?"

"No!" said Georgie firmly. Though all this came at the end of a mostharrowing day, it or the vermouth exhilarated him. 

"Then I'll tell you just what Mrs Weston told me. 'He's always beendevoted to Lucia, ' said Mrs Weston, 'and he has never looked at anybodyelse. There was Piggy Antrobus----' Now do you know who I mean?"

Georgie suddenly giggled. 

"Yes, " he said. 

"Then don't talk about yourself so much, my dear, and let us get to thepoint. Now this afternoon I dropped in to see Mrs Weston and as she wastelling me about the tragedy, she said by accident (just as I calledyou Georgie just now by accident) 'And I don't know what Jacob will dowithout Atkinson. ' Now is or is not Colonel Boucher's name Jacob? Thereyou are then! That's one side of the question. She called him Jacob byaccident and so she'll call him Jacob on purpose before very long. "

Olga nodded her head up and down in precise reproduction of Mrs Weston. 

"I'd hardly got out of the house, " she said in exact imitation of MrsWeston's voice, "before I met Colonel Boucher. It would have been aboutthree o'clock--no it couldn't have been three, because I had got backhome and was standing in the hall when it struck three, and my clock'sa shade fast if anything. Well; Colonel Boucher said to me, 'Haw, hum, quite a domestic crisis, by Jove. ' And so I pretended I didn't know, and he told me all about it. So I said 'Well, it is a domestic crisis, and you'll lose Atkinson. ' 'Haw, hum, ' said he, 'and poor Jane, Ishould say, Mrs Weston, will lose Elizabeth. ' There!"

She got up and lit a cigarette. 

"Oh, Georgie, do you grasp the inwardness of that?" she said. "Theirdear old hearts were laid bare by the trouble that had come upon them, and each of them spoke of the other, as each felt for the other. Probably neither of them had said Jacob or Jane in the whole course oftheir lives. But the Angel of the Lord descended and troubled thewaters. If you think that's profane, have some more vermouth. It'smaking me brilliant, though you wouldn't have thought it. Now listen!"

She sat down again close to him, her face brimming with a humorousenthusiasm. Humour in Riseholme was apt to be a little unkind; if youmentioned the absurdities of your friends, there was just a speck ofmalice in your wit. But with her there was none of that, she gave animitation of Mrs Weston with the most ruthless fidelity, and yet it waskindly to the bottom. She liked her for talking in that emphatic voiceand being so particular as to what time it was. "Now first of all youare coming to dine with me tonight, " said Olga. 

"Oh, I'm afraid that tonight----" began Georgie, shrinking from anyfurther complications. He really must have a quiet evening, and go tobed very early. 

"What are you afraid of tonight?" she asked. "You're only going to washyour hair. You can do that tomorrow. So you and I, that's two, and MrsWeston and Colonel Jacob, that's four, which is enough, and I don'tbelieve there's anything to eat in the house. But there's something todrink, which is my point. Not for you and me, mind; we've got to keepour heads and be clever. Don't have any more vermouth. But Jane andJacob are going to have quantities of champagne. Not tipsy, youunderstand, but at their best, and unguardedly appreciative of eachother and us. And when they go away, they will exchange a chaste kissat Mrs Weston's door, and she will ask him in. No! I think she'll askhim in first. And when they wake up tomorrow morning, they will bothwonder how they could possibly, and jointly ask themselves whateverybody else will say. And then they'll thank God and Olga andGeorgie that they did, and live happily for an extraordinary number ofyears. My dear, how infinitely happier they will be together than theyare being now. Funny old dears! Each at its own fireside, saying thatit's too old, bless them! And you and I will sing 'Voice that breathedo'er Eden' and in the middle our angel-voices will crack, and we willsob into our handkerchief, and Eden will be left breathing deeply allby itself like the Guru. Why did you never tell me about the Guru? MrsWeston's a better friend to me than you are, and I must ring for mycook--no I'll telephone first to Jacob and Jane--and see what there isto eat afterwards. You will sit here quietly, and when I have finishedI will tell you what your part is. "

During dinner, according to Olga's plan of campaign, the conversationwas to be general, because she hated to have two conversations going onwhen only four people were present, since she found that she alwayswanted to join in the other one. This was the main principle sheinculcated on Georgie, stamping it on his memory by a simile ofpeculiar vividness. "Imagine there is an Elizabethan spittoon in themiddle of the table, " she said, "and keep on firmly spitting into it. Iwant you when there's any pause to spit about two things, one, howdreadfully unhappy both Jacob and Jane will be without their paragons, the other, how pleasant is conversation and companionship. I shall bechaffing you, mind, all the time and saying _you_ must getmarried. After dinner I shall probably stroll in the garden with Jacob. Don't come. Keep him after dinner for some little time, for then's myopportunity of talking to Jane, and give him at least three glasses ofport. Gracious it's time to dress, and the Lord prosper us. "

Georgie found himself the last to arrive, when he got back to Olga'sand all three of them shook hands rather as people shake hands before afuneral. They went into dinner at once and Olga instantly began, "Howmany years did you say your admirable Atkinson had been with you?" sheasked Colonel Boucher. 

"Twenty; getting on for twenty-one, " said he. "Great nuisance; 'pon myword it's worse than a nuisance. "

Georgie had a bright idea. 

"But what's a nuisance, Colonel?" he asked. 

"Eh, haven't you heard? I thought it would have been all over the placeby now. Atkinson's going to be married. "

"No!" said Georgie. "Whom to?"

Mrs Weston could not bear not to announce this herself. "To myElizabeth, " she said. "Elizabeth came to me this morning. 'May I speakto you a minute, ma'am?' she asked, and I thought nothing more thanthat perhaps she had broken a tea-cup. 'Yes, ' said I quite cheerfully, 'and what have you come to tell me?'"

It was getting almost too tragic and Olga broke in. 

"Let's try to forget all about it, for an hour or two, " she said. "Itwas nice of you all to take pity on me and come and have dinner, otherwise I should have been quite alone. If there's one thing I cannotbear it's being alone in the evening. And to think that anybody choosesto be alone when he needn't! Look at that wretch there, " and shepointed to Georgie, "who lives all by himself instead of marrying. Liking to be alone is the worst habit I know; much worse than drink. "

"Now do leave me alone, " said Georgie. 

"I won't, my dear, and when dinner is over Mrs Weston and I are goingto put our heads together, and when you come out we shall announce toyou the name of your bride. I should put a tax of twenty shillings onthe pound on all bachelors; they should all marry or starve. "

Suddenly she turned to Colonel Boucher. 

"Oh, Colonel, " she said. "What have I been saying? How dreadfullystupid of me not to remember that you were a bachelor too. But Iwouldn't have you starve for anything. Have some more fish instantly toshew you forgive me. Georgie change the subject you're always talkingabout yourself. "

Georgie turned with admirable docility to Mrs Weston. 

"It's too miserable for you, " he said. "How will you get on withoutElizabeth? How long has she been with you?"

Mrs Weston went straight back to where she had left off. 

"So I said, 'What have you come to tell me?' quite cheerfully, thinkingit was a tea-cup. And she said, 'I'm going to be married, ma'am, ' and sheblushed so prettily that you'd have thought she was a girl of twenty, though she was seventeen when she came to me, --no, she was justeighteen, and that's fifteen years ago, and that makes herthirty-three. 'Well, Elizabeth, ' I said, 'you haven't told me yetwho it is, but whether it's the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Princeof Wales--for I felt I had to make a little joke like that--I hopeyou'll make him as happy as you've made me all these years. '"

"You old darling, " said Olga. "I should have gone into hysterics, andforbade the banns. "

"No, Miss Bracely, you wouldn't, " said Mrs Weston, "you'd have beenjust as thankful as me, that she'd got a good husband to take care ofand to be taken care of by, because then she said, 'Lor ma'am, it'snone of they--not them great folks. It's the Colonel's Atkinson. ' Youask the Colonel for Atkinson's character, Miss Bracely, and then you'dbe just as thankful as I was. "

"The Colonel's Atkinson is a slow coach, just like Georgie, " said Olga. "He and Elizabeth have been living side by side all these years, andwhy couldn't the man make up his mind before? The only redeemingcircumstance is that he has done it now. Our poor Georgie now--"

"Now you're going to be rude to Colonel Boucher again, " said Georgie. "Colonel, we've been asked here to be insulted. "

Colonel Boucher had nothing stronger than a mild tolerance for Georgieand rather enjoyed snubbing him. 

"Well, if you call a glass of wine and a dinner like this an insult, "he said, "'pon my word I don't know what you'd call a compliment. "

"I know what I call a compliment, " said Olga, "and that's your allcoming to dine with me at such short notice. About Georgie'sapproaching nuptials now--"

"You're too tarsome" said he. "If you go on like that, I shan't ask youto the wedding. Let's talk about Elizabeth's. When are they going toget married, Mrs Weston?"

"That's what I said to Elizabeth. 'Get an almanack, Elizabeth, ' said I, 'so that you won't choose a Sunday. Don't say the 20th of next monthwithout looking it out. But if the 20th isn't a Sunday or a Fridaymind, for though I don't believe in such things, still you neverknow--' There was Mrs Antrobus now, " said Mrs Weston suddenly, puttingin a footnote to her speech to Elizabeth, "it was on a Friday shemarried, and within a year she got as deaf as you see her now. Then MrWeston's uncle, his uncle by marriage I should say, he was another Fridaymarriage and they missed their train when going off on their honeymoon, and had to stay all night where they were without a sponge or a toothbrush between them, for all their luggage was in the train beingwhirled away to Torquay. 'So make it the 20th, Elizabeth, ' I said, 'ifit isn't a Friday or a Sunday, and I shall have time to look round me, and so will the Colonel, though I don't expect that either of us willfind your equals! And don't cry, Elizabeth, ' I said, for she wasgetting quite watery, 'for if you cry about a marriage, what'll be leftfor a funeral?'"

"Ha! Upon my word, I call that splendid of you, " said the Colonel. "Itold Atkinson I wished I had never set eyes on him, before I wished himjoy. "

Olga got up. 

"Look after Colonel Boucher, Georgie, " she said, "and ring for anythingyou want. Look at the moon! Isn't it heavenly. How Atkinson andElizabeth must be enjoying it. "

The two men spent a half-hour of only moderately enjoyableconversation, for Georgie kept the grindstone of the misery of his lotwithout Atkinson, and the pleasure of companionship firmly to theColonel's nose. It was no use for him to attempt to change the subjectto the approaching tableaux, to a vague rumour that Piggy had fallenface downwards in the ducking-pond, that Mrs Quantock and her husbandhad turned a table this afternoon with remarkable results, for it hadtapped out that his name was Robert and hers Daisy. Whichever way heturned, Georgie herded him back on to the stony path that he had beenbidden to take, with the result that when Georgie finally permitted himto go into the music-room, he was athirst for the more genialcompanionship of the ladies. Olga got up as they entered. 

"Georgie's so lazy, " she said, "that it's no use asking him. But do letyou and me have a turn up and down my garden, Colonel. There's a divinemoon and it's quite warm. "

They stepped out into the windless night. 

"Fancy it's being October, " she said. "I don't believe there is anywinter in Riseholme, nor autumn either, for that matter. You are all soyoung, so deliciously young. Look at Georgie in there: he's like a boystill, and as for Mrs Weston, she's twenty-five: not a day older. "

"Yes, wonderful woman, " said he. "Always agreeable and lively. Handsome, too: I consider Mrs Weston a very handsome woman. Hasn'taltered an atom since I knew her. "

"That's the wonderful thing about you all!" said she. "You are all justas brisk and young as you were ten years ago. It's ridiculous. As foryou, I'm not sure that you're not the most ridiculous of the lot. Ifeel as if I had been having dinner with three delightful cousins alittle younger--not much, but just a little--than myself. Gracious! Howyou all made me romp the other night here. What a pace you go, Colonel!What's your walking like if you call this a stroll?"

Colonel Boucher moderated his pace. He thought Olga had been walking soquickly. 

"I'm very sorry, " he said. "Certainly Riseholme is a healthy bracingplace. Perhaps we do keep our youth pretty well. God bless me, but thedays go by without one's noticing them. To think that I came here withAtkinson close on ten years ago. "

This did very well for Olga: she swiftly switched off onto it. 

"It's quite horrid for you losing your servant, " she said. "Servants dobecome friends, don't they, especially to anyone living alone. Georgieand Foljambe, now! But I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Foljambe had amistress before very long. "

"No, really? I thought you were just chaffing him at dinner. Georgiemarrying, is he? His wife'll take some of his needlework off his hands. May I--ah--may I enquire the lady's name?"

Olga decided to play a great card. She had just found it, so to speak, in her hand, and it was most tempting. She stopped. 

"But can't you guess?" she said. "Surely I'm not absolutely on thewrong track?"

"Ah, Miss Antrobus, " said he. "The one I think they call Piggy. No, Ishould say there was nothing in that. "

"Oh, that had never occurred to me, " said she. "I daresay I'm quitewrong. I only judged from what I thought I noticed in poor Georgie. Idaresay it's only what he should have done ten years ago, but I fancythere's a spark alive still. Let us talk about something else, thoughwe won't go in quite yet, shall we?" She felt quite safe in herapparent reluctance to tell him; the Riseholme gluttony for news madeit imperative for him to ask more. 

"Really, I must be very dull, " he said. "I daresay an eye new to theplace sees more. Who is it, Miss Bracely?"

She laughed. 

"Ah, how bad a man is at observing a man!" she said. "Didn't you seeGeorgie at dinner? He hardly took his eyes off her. "

She had a great and glorious reward. Colonel Boucher's face grewabsolutely blank in the moonlight with sheer astonishment. 

"Well, you surprise me, " he said. "Surely a fine woman, though lame, wouldn't look at a needle-woman--well, leave it at that. "

He stamped his feet and put his hands in his pockets. 

"It's growing a bit chilly, " he said. "You'll be catching cold, MissBracely, and what will your husband say if he finds out I've beenstrolling about with you out of doors after dinner?"

"Yes, we'll go in, " she said. "It is chilly. How thoughtful you are forme. "

Georgie little knowing the catspaw that had been made of him, foundhimself being detached from Mrs Weston by the Colonel, and this suitedhim very well, for presently Olga said she would sing, unless anybodyminded, and called on him to accompany her. She stood just behind him, leaning over him sometimes with a hand on his shoulder, and sang threeruthless simple English songs, appropriate to the matter in hand. Shesang, "I Attempt from Love's Sickness to Fly, " and "Sally in OurAlley, " and "Come Live with Me, " and sometimes beneath the rustle ofleaves turned over she whispered to him, "Georgie, I'm cleverer thananybody ever was, and I shall die in the night, " she said once. Againmore enigmatically she said, "I've been a cad, but I'll tell you aboutit when they've gone. Stop behind. " And then some whiskey came in, andshe insisted on the "young people" having some of that; finally she sawthem off at the door, and came running back to Georgie. "I've been acad, " she said, "because I hinted that you were in love with MrsWeston. My dear, it was simply perfect! I believe it to have been thelast straw, and if you don't forgive me you needn't. Wasn't it clever?He simply couldn't stand that, for it came on the top of your being soyoung. "

"Well, really--" said Georgie. 

"I know. And I must be a cad again. I'm going up to my bedroom, you maycome, too, if you like, because it commands a view of Church Road. Ishouldn't sleep a wink unless I knew that he had gone in with her. It'll be precisely like Faust and Marguerite going into the house, andyou and I are Mephistopheles and Martha. Come quick!"

From the dark of the window they watched Mrs Weston's bath-chair beingpushed up the lit road. 

"It's the Colonel pushing it, " whispered Olga, squeezing him into acorner of the window. "Look! There's Tommy Luton on the path. Nowthey've stopped at her gate . .. I can't bear the suspense. .. . Oh, Georgie, they've gone in! And Atkinson will stop, and so willElizabeth, and you've promised to lend them Foljambe. Which house willthey live at, do you think? Aren't you happy?"

Chapter TWELVE

The miserable Lucia started a run of extreme bad luck about this time, of which the adventure or misadventure of the Guru seemed to be theprelude, or perhaps the news of her want of recognition of the Augustmoon, which Georgie had so carefully saluted, may have arrived at thatsatellite by October. For she had simply "cut" the August moon. .. . 

There was the fiasco about Olga coming to the tableaux, which was thecause of her sending that very tart reply, via Miss Lyall, to LadyAmbermere's impertinence, and the very next morning, Lady Ambermere, coming again into Riseholme, perhaps for that very purpose, had behavedto Lucia as Lucia had behaved to the moon, and cut her. That wasirritating, but the counter-irritant to it had been that Lady Ambermerehad then gone to Olga's, and been told that she was not at home, thoughshe was very audibly practising in her music-room at the time. Uponwhich Lady Ambermere had said "Home" to her people, and got in withsuch unconcern of the material world that she sat down on Pug. 

Mrs Quantock had heard both "Home" and Pug, and told the cut Lucia, whowas a hundred yards away about it. She also told her about theengagement of Atkinson and Elizabeth, which was all she knew aboutevents in those houses. On which Lucia with a kind smile had said, "Dear Daisy, what slaves some people are to their servants. I am sureMrs Weston and Colonel Boucher will be quite miserable, poor things. Now I must run home. How I wish I could stop and chat on the green!"And she gave her silvery laugh, for she felt much better now that sheknew Olga had said she was out to Lady Ambermere, when she was soaudibly in. 

Then came a second piece of bad luck. Lucia had not gone more than ahundred yards past Georgie's house, when he came out in a tremendoushurry. He rapidly measured the distance between himself and Lucia, andhimself and Mrs Quantock, and made a bee-line for Mrs Quantock, sinceshe was the nearest. Olga had just telephoned to him. .. . 

"Good morning, " he said breathlessly, determined to cap anything shesaid. "Any news?"

"Yes, indeed, " she said. "Haven't you heard?"

Georgie had one moment of heart-sink. 

"What?" he said. 

"Atkinson and Eliz----" she began. 

"Oh, that, " said he scornfully. "And talking of them, of course you'veheard the rest. _Haven't_ you? Why, Mrs Weston and Colonel Boucherare going to follow their example, unless they set it themselves, andget married first. "

"No!" said Mrs Quantock in the loudest possible Riseholme voice ofsurprise. 

"Oh, yes. I really knew it last night. I was dining at Old Place andthey were there. Olga and I both settled there would be something totalk in the morning. Shall we stroll on the green a few minutes?"

Georgie had a lovely time. He hurried from person to person, leavingMrs Quantock to pick up a few further gleanings. Everyone was thereexcept Lucia, and she, but for the accident of her being further offthan Mrs Quantock, would have been the first to know. 

When this tour was finished Georgie sat to enjoy the warm comfortingglow of envy that surrounded him. Nowadays the meeting place at theGreen had insensibly transferred itself to just opposite Old Place, andit was extremely interesting to hear Olga practising as she always didin the morning. Interesting though it was, Riseholme had at first beena little disappointed about it, for everyone had thought that she wouldsing Brunnhilde's part or Salome's part through every day, or sometrifle of that kind. Instead she would perform an upwards scale ingradual _crescendo, _ and on the highest most magnificent notewould enunciate at the top of her voice, "Yawning York!" Then startingsoft again she would descend in _crescendo_ to a superb low noteand enunciate "Love's Lilies Lonely. " Then after a dozen repetitions ofthis, she would start off with full voice, and get softer and softeruntil she just whispered that York was yawning, and do the same withLove's Lilies. But you never could tell what she might not sing, andsome mornings there would be long trills and leapings onto high notes:long notes and leaping onto trills, and occasionally she sang a realsong. That was worth waiting for, and Georgie did not hesitate to letdrop that she had sung four last night to his accompaniment. And hardlyhad he repeated that the third time, when she appeared at her window, and before all Riseholme called out "Georgie!" with a trill at the end, like a bird shaking its wings. Before all Riseholme!

So in he went. Had Lucia known that, it would quite have wiped the giltoff Lady Ambermere's being refused admittance. In point of fact it didwipe the gilt off when, about an hour afterwards, Georgie went to lunchbecause he told her. And if there had been any gilt left aboutanywhere, that would have vanished, too, when in answer to some ratherdamaging remark she made about poor Daisy's interests in thelove-affairs of other people's servants, she learned that it was ofthe love-affairs of their superiors that all Riseholme had been talkingfor at least an hour by now. 

Again there was ill-luck about the tableaux on Saturday, for in theBrunnhilde scene, Peppino in his agitation, turned the lamp that was tobe a sunrise, completely out, and Brunnhilde had to hail the midnight, or at any rate a very obscure twilight. Georgie, it is true, withwonderful presence of mind, turned on an electric light when he hadfinished playing, but it was more like a flash of lightning than aslow, wonderful dawn. The tableaux were over well before 10. 45, andthough Lucia in answer to the usual pressings, said she would "seeabout" doing them again, she felt that Mrs Weston and Colonel Boucher, who made their first public appearance as the happy pair, attractedmore than their proper share of attention. The only consolation was thatthe romps that followed at poor Daisy's were a complete fiasco. It wasin vain, too, at supper, that she went from table to table, and helpedpeople to lobster salad and champagne, and had not enough chairs, andgenerally imitated all that had apparently made Olga's party so supremea success. But on this occasion the recipe for the dish and not thedish itself was served up, and the hunting of the slipper produced noexhilaration in the chase. .. . 

But far more untoward events followed. Olga came back on the nextMonday, and immediately after Lucia received a card for an evening "AtHome, " with "Music" in the bottom left-hand corner. It happened to bewet that afternoon, and seeing Olga's shut motor coming from thestation with four men inside, she leaped to the conclusion that thesewere four musicians for the music. A second motor followed withluggage, and she quite distinctly saw the unmistakable shape of a'cello against the window. After that no more guessing was necessary, for it was clear that poor Olga had hired the awful string-quartet fromBrinton, that played in the lounge at the Royal Hotel after dinner. TheBrinton string-quartet! She had heard them once at a distance and thatwas quite enough. Lucia shuddered as she thought of those dolefulfiddlers. It was indeed strange that Olga with all the opportunitiesshe had had for hearing good music, should hire the Brintonstring-quartet, but, after all, that was entirely of a piece with herviews about the gramophone. Perhaps the gramophone would have its sharein this musical evening. But she had said she would go: it would be veryunkind to Olga to stop away now, for Olga must know by this time herpassion for music, so she went. She sincerely hoped that she would notbe conducted to the seat of honour, and be obliged to say a fewencouraging words to the string-quartet afterwards. 

Once again she came rather late, for the music had begun. It had onlyjust begun, for she recognised--who should recognise if not she?--theearly bars of a Beethoven quartet. She laid her hand on Peppino's arm. 

"Brinton: Beethoven, " she said limply. 

She slipped into a chair next Daisy Quantock, and sat in her well-knownposition when listening to music, with her head forward, her chinresting on her hand, and the far-away look in her eyes. Nothing ofcourse could wholly take away the splendour of that gloriouscomposition, and she was pleased that there was no applause between themovements, for she had rather expected that Olga would clap, andinterrupt the unity of it all. Occasionally, too, she was agreeablysurprised by the Brinton string-quartet: they seemed to have someinklings, though not many. Once she winced very much when a stringbroke. 

Olga (she was rather a restless hostess) came up to her when it wasover. 

"So glad you could come, " she said. "Aren't they divine?"

Lucia gave her most indulgent smile. 

"Perfect music! Glorious!" she said. "And they really played it verycreditably. But I am a little spoiled, you know, for the last time Iheard that it was performed by the Spanish Quartet. I know one oughtnever to compare, but have you ever heard the Spanish Quartet, MissBracely?"

Olga looked at her in surprise. 

"But they are the Spanish Quartet!" she said pointing to the players. 

Lucia had raised her voice rather as she spoke, for when she spoke onmusic she spoke for everybody to hear. And a great many peopleundoubtedly did hear, among whom, of course, was Daisy Quantock. Shegave one shrill squeal of laughter, like a slate-pencil, and from thatmoment granted plenary absolution to _poor dear Lucia_ for all hergreed and grabbing with regard to the Guru. 

But instantly all Olga's good-nature awoke: unwittingly (for her remarkthat this _was_ the Spanish Quartet had been a mere surprisedexclamation), she had made a guest of hers uncomfortable, and must atonce do all she could to remedy that. 

"It's a shocking room for echoes, this, " she said. "Do all of you comeup a little nearer, and you will be able to hear the playing so muchbetter. You lose all shade, all fineness here. I came here on purposeto ask you to move up, Mrs Lucas: there are half a dozen chairsunoccupied near the platform. "

It was a kindly intention that prompted the speech, but for all realRiseholme practical purposes, quite barren, for many people had heardLucia's remarks, and Peppino also had already been wincing at theBrinton quartet. In that fell moment the Bolshevists laid bony fingerson the sceptre of her musical autocracy. .. . But who would have guessedthat Olga would get the Spanish Quartet from London to come down toRiseholme?

Staggering from these blows, she had to undergo an even shrewder strokeyet. Already. In the intelligence department, she had been sadlybehind-hand in news, her tableaux-party had been anything but asuccess, this one little remark of Olga's had shaken her musically, butat any rate up till this moment she had shewn herself mistress of theItalian tongue, while to strengthen that she was being very diligentwith her dictionary, grammar and Dante's Paradiso. Then as by a boltout of a clear sky that temple, too, was completely demolished, in themost tragic fashion. 

A few days after the disaster of the Spanish-Brinton Quartet, Olgareceived a letter from Signor Cortese, the eminent Italian composer, toherald the completion of his opera, "Lucretia. " Might he come down toRiseholme for a couple of nights, and, figuratively, lay it at herfeet, in the hope that she would raise it up, and usher it into theworld? All the time he had been writing it, as she knew, he hadthought of her in the name part and he would come down today, tomorrow, at a moment's notice by day or night to submit it to her. Olga wasdelighted and sent an effusive telegram of many sheets, full ofcongratulation and welcome, for she wanted above all things to "create"the part. So would Signor Cortese come down that very day?

She ran upstairs with the news to her husband. 

"My dear, 'Lucretia' is finished, " she said, "and that angelpractically offers it me. Now what are we to do about dinner tonight?Jacob and Jane are coming, and neither you nor they, I suppose, speakone word of Italian, and you know what mine is, firm and intelligibleand operatic but not conversational. What are we to do? He hatestalking English. .. . Oh, I know, if I can only get Mrs Lucas. Theyalways talk Italian, I believe, at home. I wonder if she can come. She's musical, too, and I shall ask her husband, I think: that'll be aman over, but it will be another Italiano----"

Olga wrote at once to Lucia, mentioning that Cortese was staying withthem, but, quite naturally, saying nothing about the usefulness ofPeppino and her being able to engage the musician in his own tongue, for that she took for granted. An eager affirmative (such a greatpleasure) came back to her, and for the rest of the day, Lucia andPeppino made up neat little sentences to let off to the dazzledCortese, at the moment when they said "good-night, " to shew that theycould have talked Italian all the time, had there been any occasion fordoing so. 

Mrs Weston and Colonel Boucher had already arrived when Lucia and herhusband entered, and Lucia had quite a shock to see on what intimateterms they were with their hostess. They actually called each otherOlga and Jacob and Jane, which was most surprising and almost painful. Lucia (perhaps because she had not known about it soon enough) had beena little satirical about the engagement, rather as if it was a slighton her that Jacob had not been content with celibacy and Jane with herfriendship, but she was sure she wished them both "nothing but well. "Indeed the moment she got over the shock of seeing them so intimatewith Olga, she could not have been surpassed in cordiality. 

"We see but little of our old friends now, " she said to Olga and Janejointly, "but we must excuse their desire for solitude in their firstglow of their happiness. Peppino and I remember that sweet time, oh, ever so long ago. "

This might have been tact, or it might have been cat. That Peppino andshe sympathised as they remembered their beautiful time was tact, thatit was so long ago was cat. Altogether it might be described as a catchewing tact. But there was a slight air of patronage about it, and ifthere was one thing Mrs Weston would not, and could not and did noteven intend to stand, it was that. Besides it had reached her ears thatMrs Lucas had said something about there being no difficulty in findingbridesmaids younger than the bride. 

"Fancy! How clever of you to remember so long ago, " she said. "But, then, you have the most marvellous memory, dear, and keep itwonderfully!"

Olga intervened. 

"How kind of you and Mr Lucas to come at such short notice, " she said. "Cortese hates talking English, so I shall put him between you and me, and you'll talk to him all the time, won't you? And you won't laugh atme, will you, when I join in with my atrocious attempts? And I shallbuttress myself on the other side with your husband, who will firmlytalk across me to him. "

Lucia had to say something. A further exposure was at hand, quiteinevitably. It was no use for her and Peppino to recollect a previousengagement. 

"Oh, my Italian is terribly rusty, " she said, knowing that Mrs Weston'seye was on her. .. . Why had she not sent Mrs Weston a handsomewedding-present that morning?

"Rusty? We will ask Cortese about that when you've had a good talk tohim. Ah, here he is!"

Cortese came into the room, florid and loquacious, pouring out a streamof apology for his lateness to Olga, none of which was the leastintelligible to Lucia. She guessed what he was saying, and next momentOlga, who apparently understood him perfectly, and told him with anenviable fluency that he was not late at all, was introducing him toher, and explaining that "la Signora" (Lucia understood this) and herhusband talked Italian. She did not need to reply to some torrent ofamiable words from him, addressed to her, for he was taken on andintroduced to Mrs Weston, and the Colonel. But he instantly whirledround to her again, and asked her something. Not knowing the least whathe meant, she replied:

"Si: tante grazie. "

He looked puzzled for a moment and then repeated his question inEnglish. 

"In what deestrict of Italy 'ave you voyaged most?"

Lucia understood that: so did Mrs Weston, and Lucia pulled herselftogether. 

"In Rome, " she said. "_Che bella citta! Adoro Roma, e il mio marito. Non e vere, Peppino?_"

Peppino cordially assented: the familiar ring of this fine intelligibleItalian restored his confidence, and he asked Cortese whether he wasnot very fond of music. .. . 

Dinner seemed interminable to Lucia. She kept a watchful eye onCortese, and if she saw he was about to speak to her, she turnedhastily to Colonel Boucher, who sat on her other side, and asked himsomething about his _cari cani_, which she translated to him. While he answered she made up another sentence in Italian about theblue sky or Venice, or very meanly said her husband had been there, hoping to direct the torrent of Italian eloquence to him. But she knewthat, as an Italian conversationalist, neither she nor Peppino had arag of reputation left them, and she dismally regretted that they hadnot chosen French, of which they both knew about as much, instead ofItalian, for the vehicle of their linguistic distinction. 

Olga meantime continued to understand all that Cortese said, and toreply to it with odious fluency, and at the last, Cortese having saidsomething to her which made her laugh, he turned to Lucia. 

"I've said to Meesis Shottlewort" . .. And he proceeded to explain hisjoke in English. 

"Molto bene, " said Lucia with a dying flicker. "Molto divertente. Non evero, Peppino. "

"Si, si, " said Peppino miserably. 

And then the final disgrace came, and it was something of a relief tohave it over. Cortese, in excellent spirits with his dinner and hiswine and the prospect of Olga taking the part of Lucretia, turnedbeamingly to Lucia again. 

"Now we will all spick English, " he said. "This is one very pleasantevening. I enjoy me very much. Ecco!"

Just once more Lucia shot up into flame. 

"Parlate Inglese molto bene, " she said, and except when Cortese spoketo Olga, there was no more Italian that night. 

Even the unique excitement of hearing Olga "try over" the great scenein the last act could not quite absorb Lucia's attention after thisawful fiasco, and though she sat leaning forward with her chin in herhand, and the far-away look in her eyes, her mind was furiously busy asto how to make anything whatever out of so bad a job. Everyone presentknew that her Italian, as a medium for conversation, had suffered acomplete break-down, and it was no longer any real use, when Olgadid not quite catch the rhythm of a passage, to murmur "_Uno_, _due_, _tre_" unconsciously to herself; she might just as wellhave said "one, two, three" for any effect it had on Mrs Weston. The story would be all over Riseholme next day, and she felt sure thatMrs Weston, that excellent observer and superb reporter, had not failedto take it all in, and would not fail to do justice to it. Blow afterblow had been rained upon her palace door, it was little wonder thatthe whole building was a-quiver. She had thought of starting aDante-class this winter, for printed Italian, if you had a dictionaryand a translation in order to prepare for the class, could be easilyinterpreted: it was the spoken word which you had to understand withoutany preparation at all, and not in the least knowing what was coming, that had presented such insurmountable difficulties. And yet who, whenthe story of this evening was known, would seek instruction from ateacher of that sort? Would Mrs Weston come to her Dante-class? Wouldshe? Would she? No, she would not. 

Lucia lay long awake that night, tossing and turning in her bed in thatdelightful apartment in "Midsummer Night's Dream, " and reviewing thefell array of these unlucky affairs. As she eyed them, black shapesagainst the glow of her firelight, it struck her that the samemalevolent influence inspired them all. For what had caused the failureand flatness of her tableaux (omitting the unfortunate incident aboutthe lamp) but the absence of Olga? Who was it who had occasioned herunfortunate remark about the Spanish Quartet but Olga, whose clear dutyit had been, when she sent the invitation for the musical party, tostate (so that there could be no mistake about it) that those eminentperformers were to entrance them? Who could have guessed that she wouldhave gone to the staggering expense of having them down from London?The Brinton quartet was the Utmost that any sane imagination could havepictured, and Lucia's extremely sane imagination had pictured justthat, with such extreme vividness that it had never occurred to herthat it could be anybody else. Certainly Olga should have put "SpanishQuartet" in the bottom left-hand corner instead of "Music" and thenLucia would have known all about it, and have been speechless withemotion when they had finished the Beethoven, and wiped her eyes, andpulled herself together again. It really looked as if Olga had laid atrap for her. .. . 

Even more like a trap were the horrid events of this evening. Trap wasnot at all too strong a word for them. To ask her to the house, andthen suddenly spring upon her the fact that she was expected to talkItalian. .. . Was that an open, an honourable proceeding? What if Luciahad actually told Olga (and she seemed to recollect it) that she andPeppino often talked Italian at home? That was no reason why she shouldbe expected, off-hand like that, to talk Italian anywhere else. Sheshould have been told what was expected of her, so as to give her thechance of having a previous engagement. Lucia hated underhand ways, and they were particularly odious in one whom she had been willing toeducate and refine up to the highest standards of Riseholme. Indeed itlooked as if Olga's nature was actually incapable of receivingcultivation. She went on her own rough independent lines, giving a rompone night, and not coming to the tableaux on another, and getting theSpanish Quartet without consultation on a third, and springing thisdreadful Pentecostal party on them on a fourth. Olga clearly meantmischief: she wanted to set herself up as leader of Art and Culture inRiseholme. Her conduct admitted of no other explanation. 

Lucia's benevolent scheme of educating and refining vanished likemorning mists, and through her drooping eyelids, the firelight seemedstrangely red. .. . She had been too kind, too encouraging: now she mustcollect her forces round her and be stern. As she dozed off to sleep, she reminded herself to ask Georgie to lunch next day. He and Peppinoand she must have a serious talk. She had seen Georgie comparativelylittle just lately, and she drowsily and uneasily wondered how thatwas. 

Georgie by this time had quite got over the desolation of the momentwhen standing in the road opposite Mrs Quantock's mulberry-tree he hadgiven vent to that bitter cry of "More misery: more unhappiness!" Hisnerves on that occasion had been worn to fiddlestrings with all thefuss and fiasco of planning the tableaux, and thus fancying himself inlove had been just the last straw. But the fact that he had been Olga'schosen confidant in her wonderful scheme of causing Mrs Weston and theColonel to get engaged, and the distinction of being singled out byOlga to this friendly intimacy, had proved a great tonic. It was quiteclear that the existence of Mr Shuttleworth constituted a hopeless barto the fruition of his passion, and, if he was completely honest withhimself, he was aware that he did not really hate Mr Shuttleworth forstanding in his path. Georgie was gentle in all his ways, and hismanner of falling in love was very gentle, too. He admired Olgaimmensely, he found her stimulating and amusing, and since it was outof the question really to be her lover, he would have enjoyed next bestto that, being her brother, and such little pangs of jealousy as hemight experience from time to time, were rather in the nature of smallelectric shocks voluntarily received. He was devoted to her with awarmth that his supposed devotion to Lucia had never kindled in him; heeven went so far as to dream about her in an agitated though respectfulmanner. Without being conscious of any unreality about his sentiments, he really wanted to dress up as a lover rather than to be one, for hecould form no notion at present of what it felt to be absorbed inanyone else. Life was so full as it was: there really was no room foranything else, especially if that something else must be of the qualitywhich rendered everything else colourless. 

This state of mind, this quality of emotion was wholly pleasurable andquite exciting, and instead of crying out "More misery! moreunhappiness!" he could now, as he passed the mulberry, say to himself"More pleasures! more happiness!"

Yet as he ran down the road to lunch with Lucia he was conscious thatshe was likely to stand, an angel perhaps, but certainly one with aflaming sword, between him and all the interests of the new life whichwas undoubtedly beginning to bubble in Riseholme, and to which Georgiefound it so pleasant to take his little mug, and have it filled withexhilarating liquid. And if Lucia proved to be standing in his path, forbidding his approach, he, too, was armed for combat, with arevolutionary weapon, consisting of a rolled-up copy of some ofDebussy's music for the piano--Olga had lent it him a few days, --and hehad been very busy over "Poissons d'or. " He was further armed by thecomplete knowledge of the Italian debacle of last night, which, fromhis knowledge of Lucia, he judged must constitute a crisis. Somethingwould have to happen. .. . Several times lately Olga had, so to speak, run full-tilt into Lucia, and had passed on leaving a staggering formbehind her. And in each case, so Georgie clearly perceived, Olga hadnot intended to butt into or stagger anybody. Each time, she hadknocked Lucia down purely by accident, but if these accidents occurredwith such awful frequency, it was to be expected that Lucia would findanother name for them: they would have to be christened. With all hisRiseholme appetite for complications and events Georgie guessed that hewas not likely to go empty away from this lunch. In addition there wereother topics of extraordinary interest, for really there had been veryodd experiences at Mrs Quantock's last night, when the Italian debaclewas going on, a little way up the road. But he was not going to bringthat out at once. 

Lucia hailed him with her most cordial manner, and with a superbeffrontery began to talk Italian just as usual, though she must haveguessed that Georgie knew all about last night. 

"Bon arrivato, amico mio, " she said. "Why, it must be three days sincewe met. Che la falto il signorino? And what have you got there?"

Georgie, having escaped being caught over Italian, had made up his mindnot to talk any more ever. 

"Oh, they are some little things by Debussy, " he said. "I want to playone of them to you afterwards. I've just been glancing through it. "

"Bene, molto bene!" said she. "Come in to lunch. But I can't promise tolike it, Georgino. Isn't Debussy the man who always makes me want tohowl like a dog at the sound of the gong? Where did you get thesefrom?"

"Olga lent me them, " said Georgie negligently. He really did call herOlga to her face now, by request. 

Lucia's bugles began to sound. 

"Yes, I should think Miss Bracely would admire that sort of music, " shesaid. "I suppose I am too old-fashioned, though I will not condemn yourlittle pieces of Debussy before I have heard them. Old-fashioned! Yes!I was certainly too old-fashioned for the music she gave us last night. Dio mi!"

"Oh, didn't you enjoy it?" asked he. 

Lucia sat down, without waiting for Peppino. 

"Poor Miss Bracely!" she said. "It was very kind of her in intention toask me, but she would have been kinder to have asked Mrs Antrobusinstead, and have told her not to bring her ear-trumpet. To hear thatlovely voice, for I do her justice, and there are lovely notes in hervoice, _lovely_, to hear that voice shrieking and screaming away, in what she called the great scene, was simply pitiful. There was nomelody, and above all there was no form. A musical composition is likean architectural building; it must be built up and constructed. Howoften have I said that! You must have colour, and you must have line, otherwise I cannot concede you the right to say you have music. "

Lucia finished her egg in a hurry, and put her elbows on the table. 

"I hope I am not hide-bound and limited, " she said, "and I think youwill acknowledge, Georgie, that I am not. Even in the divinest music ofall, I am not blind to defects, if there are defects. The MoonlightSonata, for instance. You have often heard me say that the two lastmovements do not approach the first in perfection of form. And if I ampermitted to criticise Beethoven, I hope I may be allowed to suggestthat Mr Cortese has not produced an opera which will render Fidelioridiculous. But really I am chiefly sorry for Miss Bracely. I shouldhave thought it worth her while to render herself not unworthy tointerpret Fidelio, whatever time and trouble that cost her, rather thanto seek notoriety by helping to foist on to the world a freshcombination of engine-whistles and grunts. _Non e vero_, Peppino?How late you are. "

Lucia had not determined on this declaration of war without anxiousconsideration. But it was quite obvious to her that the enemy was dailygaining strength, and therefore the sooner she came to open hostilitiesthe better, for it was equally obvious to her mind that Olga was apretender to the throne she had occupied for so long. It was time tomobilise, and she had first to state her views and her plan of campaignto the chief of her staff. 

"No, we did not quite like our evening, Peppino and I, did we, _caro_?" she went on. "And Mr Cortese! His appearance! He is likea huge hairdresser. His touch on the piano. If you can imagine a wildbull butting at the keys, you will have some idea of it. And above all, his Italian! I gathered that he was a Neapolitan, and we all know whatNeapolitan dialect is like. Tuscans and Romans, who between them Ibelieve--Lingua Toscano in Bocca Romana, you remember--know how tospeak their own tongue, find Neapolitans totally unintelligible. Formyself, and I speak for mio sposo as well, I do not want to understandwhat Romans do not understand. La bella lingua is sufficient for me. "

"I hear that Olga could understand him quite well, " said Georgiebetraying his complete knowledge of all that had happened. 

"That may be so, " said Lucia. "I hope she understood his English too, and his music. He had not an 'h' when he spoke English, and I have notthe slightest doubt in my own mind that his Italian was equallyilliterate. It does not matter; I do not see that Mr Cortese'slinguistic accomplishments concern us. But his music does, if poor MissBracely, with her lovely notes, is going to study it, and appear asLucretia. I am sorry if that is so. Any news?"

Really it was rather magnificent, and it was war as well; of that therecould not be the slightest doubt. All Riseholme, by this time, knewthat Lucia and Peppino had not been able to understand a word of whatCortese had said, and here was the answer to the back-bitingsuggestion, vividly put forward by Mrs Weston on the green thatmorning, that the explanation was that Lucia and Peppino did not knowItalian. They could not reasonably be expected to know Neapolitandialect; the language of Dante satisfied their humble needs. They foundit difficult to understand Cortese when he spoke English, but that didnot imply that they did not know English. Dante's tongue andShakespeare's tongue sufficed them. .. . 

"And what were the words of the libretto like?" asked Georgie. 

Lucia fixed him with her beady eyes, ready and eager to show howdelighted she was to bestow approbation wherever it was deserved. 

"Wonderful!" she said. "I felt, and so did Peppino, that the words wereas utterly wasted on that formless music as was poor Miss Bracely'svoice. How did it go, Peppino? Let me think!"

Lucia raised her head again with the far-away look. 

"Amore misterio!" she said. "Amore profondo! Amore profondo del vastomar. " Ah, there was our poor bella lingua again. I wonder who wrote thelibretto. "

"Mr Cortese wrote the libretto, " said Georgie. 

Lucia did not hesitate for a moment, but gave her silvery laugh. 

"Oh, dear me, no, " she said. "If you had heard him talk you would knowhe could not have. Well, have we not had enough of Mr Cortese and hisworks? Any news? What did you do last night, when Peppino and I were inour purgatorio?"

Georgie was almost equally glad to get off the subject of Italian. Theless said in or of Italian the better. 

"I was dining with Mrs Quantock, " he said. "She had a very interestingRussian woman staying with her, Princess Popoffski. "

Lucia laughed again. 

"Dear Daisy!" she said. "Tell me about the Russian princess. Was she aGuru? Dear me, how easily some people are taken in! The Guru! Well, wewere all in the same boat there. We took the Guru on poor Daisy'svaluation, and I still believe he had very remarkable gifts, curry-cookor not. But Princess Popoffski now----"

"We had a seance, " said Georgie. 

"Indeed! And Princess Popoffski was the medium?"

Georgie grew a little dignified. 

"It is no use adopting that tone, cara, " he said, relapsing intoItalian. "You were not there; you were having your purgatory at Olga's. It was very remarkable. We touched hands all round the table; there wasno possibility of fraud. "

Lucia's views on psychic phenomena were clearly known to Riseholme;those who produced them were fraudulent, those who were taken in bythem were dupes. Consequently there was irony in the baby-talk of herreply. 

"Me dood!" she said. "Me very dood, and listen carefully. Tell Lucia!"

Georgie recounted the experiences. The table had rocked and tapped outnames. The table had whirled round, though it was a very heavy table. Georgie had been told that he had two sisters, one of whom in Latin wasa bear. 

"How did the table know that?" he asked. "Ursa, a bear, you know. Andthen, while we were sitting there, the Princess went off into a trance. She said there was a beautiful spirit present, who blessed us all. Shecalled Mrs Quantock Margarita, which, as you may know, is the Italianfor Daisy. "

Lucia smiled. 

"Thank you for explaining, Georgino, " she said. 

There was no mistaking the irony of that, and Georgie thought he wouldbe ironical too. 

"I didn't know if you knew, " he said. "I thought it might be Neapolitandialect. "

"Pray, go on!" said Lucia, breathing through her nose. 

"And she said I was Georgie, " said Georgie, "but that there was anotherGeorgie not far off. That was odd, because Olga's house, with MrShuttleworth, were so close. And then the Princess went into very deeptrance, and the spirit that was there took possession of her. "

"And who was that?" asked Lucia. 

"His name was Amadeo. She spoke in Amadeo's voice, indeed it was Amadeowho was speaking. He was a Florentine and knew Dante quite well. Hematerialised; I saw him. "

A bright glorious vision flashed upon Lucia. The Dante-class might not, even though it was clearly understood that Cortese spoke unintelligibleNeapolitan, be a complete success, if the only attraction was that sheherself taught Dante, but it would be quite a different proposition ifPrincess Popoffski, controlled by Amadeo, Dante's friend, was present. They might read a Canto first, and then hold a seance of whichAmadeo--via Princess Popoffski--would take charge. While this wassimmering in her mind, it was important to drop all irony and beextremely sympathetic. 

"Georgino! How wonderful!" she said. "As you know, I am sceptical bynature, and want all evidence carefully sifted. I daresay I am toocritical, and that is a fault. But fancy getting in touch with a friendof Dante's! What would one not give? Tell me: what is this Princesslike? Is she the sort of person one could ask to dinner?"

Georgie was still sore over the irony to which he had been treated. He had, moreover, the solid fact behind him that Daisy Quantock(Margarita) had declared that in no circumstances would she permitLucia to annex her Princess. She had forgiven Lucia for annexing theGuru (and considering that she had only annexed a curry-cook, it wasnot so difficult) but she was quite determined to run her Princessherself. 

"Yes, you might ask her, " he said. If irony was going about, there wasno reason why he should not have a share. 

Lucia bounced from her seat, as if it had been a spring cushion. 

"We will have a little party, " she said. "We three, and dear Daisy andher husband and the Princess. I think that will be enough; psychicshate a crowd, because it disturbs the influences. Mind! I do not say Ibelieve in her power yet, but I am quite open-minded; I should like tobe convinced. Let me see! We are doing nothing tomorrow. Let us haveour little dinner tomorrow. I will send a line to dear Daisy at once, and say how enormously your account of the seance has interested me. Ishould like dear Daisy to have something to console her for thatterrible fiasco about her Guru. And then, Georgino mio, I will listento your Debussy. Do not expect anything; if it seems to me formless, Ishall say so. But if it seems to me promising, I shall be equallyfrank. Perhaps it is great; I cannot tell you about that till I haveheard it. Let me write my note first. "

That was soon done, and Lucia, having sent it by hand, came into themusic-room, and drew down the blinds over the window through which theautumn sun was streaming. Very little art, as she had once said, would"stand" daylight; only Shakespeare or Dante or Beethoven and perhapsBach, could complete with the sun. 

Georgie, for his part, would have liked rather more light, but afterall Debussy wrote such very odd chords and sequences that it was notnecessary to wear his spectacles. 

Lucia sat in a high chair near the piano, with her chin in her hand, tremendously erect. 

Georgie took off his rings and laid them on the candle-bracket, and ranhis hands nimbly over the piano. 

"_Poissons d'or_, " he said. "Goldfish!"

"Yes; Pesci d'oro, " said Lucia, explaining it to Peppino. 

Lucia's face changed as the elusive music proceeded. The far-away lookdied away, and became puzzled; her chin came out of her hand, and thehand it came out of covered her eyes. 

Before Georgie had got to the end the answer to her note came, and shesat with it in her hand, which, released from covering her eyes, triedto beat time. On the last note she got up with a regretful sigh. 

"Is it finished?" she asked. "And yet I feel inclined to say 'When isit going to begin?' I haven't been fed; I haven't drank in anything. Yes, I warned you I should be quite candid. And there's my verdict. Iam sorry. Me vewy sowwy! But you played it, I am sure, beautifully, Georgino; you were a _buono avvocato_; you said all that could besaid for your client. Shall I open this note before we discuss it morefully? Give Georgino a cigarette, Peppino! I am sure he deserves one, after all those accidentals. "

She pulled up the blind again in order to read her note and as she readher face clouded. 

"Ah! I am sorry for that, " she said. "Peppino, the Princess does not goout in the evening; they always have a seance there. I daresay Daisymeans to ask us some evening soon. We will keep an evening or two open. It is a long time since I have seen dear Daisy; I will pop round thisafternoon. "

Chapter THIRTEEN

Spiritualism, and all things pertaining to it, swept over Riseholmelike the amazing growth of some tropical forest, germinating andshooting out its surprising vegetation, and rearing into huge fantasticshapes. In the centre of this wonderful jungle was a temple, so tospeak, and that temple was the house of Mrs Quantock. .. . 

A strange Providence was the origin of it all. Mrs Quantock, a weekbefore, had the toothache, and being no longer in the fold of ChristianScience, found that it was no good at all to tell herself that it was afalse claim. False claim it might be, but it was so plausible at oncethat it quite deceived her, and she went up to London to have itsfalsity demonstrated by a dentist. Since the collapse of Yoga and theflight of the curry-cook, she had embarked on no mystical adventure, and she starved for some new fad. Then when her first visit to thedentist was over (the tooth required three treatments) and she went toa vegetarian restaurant to see if there was anything enlightening to begot out of that, she was delighted to find herself sitting at a verysmall table with a very communicative lady who ate cabbages inperfectly incredible quantities. She had a round pale face like themoon behind the clouds, enormous eyebrows that almost met over hernose, and a strange low voice, of husky tone, and a pronunciation quiteas foreign as Signor Cortese's. She wore some very curious rings withlarge engraved amethysts and turquoises in them, and since in the firstmoments of their conversation she had volunteered the information thatvegetarianism was the only possible diet for any who were cultivatingtheir psychical powers, Mrs Quantock asked her if these weirdfinger-ornaments had any mystical signification. They had; one wasGnostic, one was Rosicrucian, and the other was Cabalistic. .. . It iseasy to picture Mrs Quantock's delight; adventure had met her withsmiling mouth and mysterious eyes. In the course of an animatedconversation of half an hour, the lady explained that if Mrs Quantockwas, like her, a searcher after psychical truths, and cared to come toher flat at half-past four that afternoon, she would try to help her. She added with some little diffidence that the fee for a seance was aguinea, and, as she left, took a card out of a case, encrusted withglowing rubies, and gave it her. That was the Princess Popoffski. 

Now here was a curious thing. For the last few evenings at Riseholme, Mrs Quantock had been experimenting with a table, and found that itcreaked and tilted and tapped in the most encouraging way when she andRobert laid their hands on it. Then something--whatever it was thatmoved the table--had indicated by raps that her name was Daisy and hisRobert, as well as giving them other information, which could not soeasily be verified. Robert had grown quite excited about it, and wasvexed that the seances were interrupted by his wife's expedition toLondon. But now how providential that was. She had walked straight fromthe dentist into the arms of Princess Popoffski. 

It was barely half-past four when Mrs Quantock arrived at thePrincess's flat, in a pleasant quiet side street off Charing CrossRoad. A small dapper little gentleman received her, who explained thathe was the Princess's secretary, and conducted her through severalsmall rooms into the presence of the Sybil. These rooms, so MrsQuantock thrillingly noticed, were dimly lit by oil lamps that stood infront of shrines containing images of the great spiritual guides fromMoses down to Madame Blavatski, a smell of incense hung about, therewere vases of flowers on the tables, and strange caskets set withwinking stones. In the last of these rooms the Princess was seated, andfor the moment Mrs Quantock hardly recognised her, for she wore ablue robe, which left her massive arms bare, and up them writhedserpent-shaped bracelets of many coils. She fixed her eyes on MrsQuantock, as if she had never seen her before, and made no sign ofrecognition. 

"The Princess has been meditating, " said the secretary in a whisper. "She'll come to herself presently. "

For a moment meditation unpleasantly reminded Mrs Quantock of the Guru, but nothing could have been less like that ill-starred curry-cook thanthis majestic creature. Eventually she gave a great sigh and came outof her meditation. 

"Ah, it is my friend, " she said. "Do you know that you have a purplehalo?"

This was very gratifying, especially when it was explained that onlythe most elect had purple halos, and soon other elect souls assembledfor the seance. In the centre of the table was placed a musical box anda violin, and hardly had the circle been made, and the lights turneddown, when the most extraordinary things began to happen. A perfectstorm of rappings issued from the table, which began to rock violently, and presently there came peals of laughter in a high voice, and thosewho had been here before said that it was Pocky. He was a dear naughtyboy, so Mrs Quantock's neighbour explained to her, so full of fun, andwhen on earth had been a Hungarian violinist. Still invisible, Pockywished them all much laughter and joy, and then suddenly said "'Ullo, 'ullo, 'ere's a new friend. I like her, " and Mrs Quantock's neighbour, with a touch of envy in her voice, told her that Pocky clearly meanther. Then Pocky said that they had been having heavenly music on theother side that day, and that if the new friend would say "Please" hewould play them some of it. 

So Mrs Quantock, trembling with emotion, said "Please, Pocky, " andinstantly he began to play on the violin the spirit tune which he hadjust been playing on the other side. After that, the violin clatteredback onto the middle of the table again, and Pocky, blowing showers ofkisses to them all, went away amid peals of happy laughter. 

Silence fell, and then a deep bass voice said, "I am coming, Amadeo!"and out of the middle of the table appeared a faint luminousness. Itgrew upwards and began to take form. Swathes of white muslin shapedthemselves in the darkness, and there appeared a white face, in amongthe topmost folds of the muslin, with a Roman nose and a melancholyexpression. He was not gay like Pocky, but he was intensely impressive, and spoke some lines in Italian, when asked to repeat a piece of Dante. Mrs Quantock knew they were Italian, because she recognised "notte" and"uno" and "caro, " familiar words on Lucia's lips. 

The seance came to an end, and Mrs Quantock having placed a guinea withthe utmost alacrity in a sort of offertory plate which the Princess'ssecretary negligently but prominently put down on a table in one of theother rooms, waited to arrange for another seance. But mostunfortunately the Princess was leaving town next day on a much neededholiday, for she had been giving three seances a day for the last twomonths and required rest. 

"Yes, we're off tomorrow, the Princess and I, " said he, "for a week atthe Royal Hotel at Brinton. Pleasant bracing air, always sets her up. But after that she'll be back in town. Do you know that part of thecountry?"

Daisy could hardly believe her ears. 

"Brinton?" she said. "I live close to Brinton. "

Her whole scheme flashed completely upon her, even as Athene sprangfull-grown from the brain of Zeus. 

"Do you think that she might be induced to spend a few days with me atRiseholme?" she said. "My husband and I are so much interested inpsychical things. You would be our guest, too, I hope. If she restedfor a few days at Brinton first? If she came on to me afterwards? Andthen if she was thoroughly rested, perhaps she would give us a seanceor two. I don't know--"

Mrs Quantock felt a great diffidence in speaking of guineas in the samesentence with Princesses, and had to make another start. 

"If she were thoroughly rested, " she said, "and if a little circleperhaps of four, at the usual price would be worth her while. Justafter dinner, you know, and nothing else to do all day but rest. Thereare pretty drives and beautiful air. All very quiet, and I think I maysay more comfortable than the hotel. It would be such a pleasure. "

Mrs Quantock heard the clinking of bracelets from the room where thePrincess was still reposing, and there she stood in the door, lookingunspeakably majestic, but very gracious. So Mrs Quantock put herproposition before her, the secretary coming to the rescue on thesubject of the usual fees, and when two days afterwards Mrs Quantockreturned to Riseholme, it was to get ready the spare room and Robert'sroom next to it for these thrilling visitors, whose first seanceGeorgie and Piggy had attended, on the evening of the Italiandebacle. .. . 

The Quantocks had taken a high and magnificent line about the "usualfees" for the seances, an expensive line, but then Roumanian oils hadbeen extremely prosperous lately. No mention whatever of these fees wasmade to their guests, no offertory-plate was put in a prominentposition in the hall, there was no fumbling for change or the discreetpressure of coins into the secretary's hand; the entire cost was borneby Roumanian oils. The Princess and Mrs Quantock, apparently, were oldfriends; they spoke to each other at dinner as "dear friend, " and thePrincess declared in the most gratifying way that they had been mostintimate in a previous incarnation, without any allusion to the factthat in this incarnation they had met for the first time last week at avegetarian restaurant. She was kind enough, it was left to beunderstood, to give a little seance after dinner at the house of her"dear friend, " and so, publicly, the question of money never came up. 

Now the Princess was to stay three nights, and therefore, as soon asMrs Quantock had made sure of that, she proceeded to fill up each ofthe seances without asking Lucia to any of them. It was not that shehad not fully forgiven her for her odious grabbing of the Guru, for shehad done that on the night of the Spanish quartette; it was rather thatshe meant to make sure that there would by no possibility be anythingto forgive concerning her conduct with regard to the Princess. Luciacould not grab her and so call Daisy's powers of forgiveness into playagain, if she never came near her, and Daisy meant to take properprecautions that she should not come near her. Accordingly Georgie andPiggy were asked to the first seance (if it did not go very well, itwould not particularly matter with them), Olga and Mr Shuttleworth werebidden to the second, and Lady Ambermere with Georgie again to thethird. This--quite apart from the immense interest of psychicphenomena--was deadly work, for it would be bitter indeed to Lucia toknow, as she most undoubtedly would, that Lady Ambermere, who had cuther so firmly, was dining twice and coming to a seance. Daisy, it mustagain be repeated, had quite forgiven Lucia about the Guru, but Luciamust take the consequences of what she had done. 

It was after the first seance that the frenzy for spiritualism seizedRiseholme. The Princess with great good-nature, gave some furtherexhibitions of her psychical power in addition to the seances, and evenas Georgie the next afternoon was receiving Lucia's cruel verdict aboutDebussy, the Sybil was looking at the hands of Colonel Boucher and MrsWeston, and unerringly probing into their past, and lifting the cornerof the veil, giving them both glimpses into the future. She knew thatthe two were engaged for that she had learned from Mrs Quantock in hermorning's drive, and did not attempt to conceal the fact, but how couldit be accounted for that looking impressively from the one to theother, she said that a woman no longer young but tall, and with fairhair had crossed their lives and had been connected with one, of themfor years past? It was impossible to describe Elizabeth more accuratelythan that, and Mrs Weston in high excitement confessed that her maidwho had been with her for fifteen years entirely corresponded with whatthe Princess had seen in her hand. After that it took only a moment'sfurther scrutiny for the Princess to discover that Elizabeth was goingto be happy too. Then she found that there was a man connected withElizabeth, and Colonel Boucher's hand, to which she transferred hergaze, trembled with delightful anticipation. She seemed to see a manthere; she was not quite sure, but was there a man who perhaps had beenknown to him for a long time? There was. And then by degrees theaffairs of Elizabeth and Atkinson were unerringly unravelled. It waslittle wonder that the Colonel pushed Mrs Weston's bath-chair withrecord speed to "Ye signe of ye daffodil, " and by the greatest goodluck obtained a copy of the "Palmist's Manual. "

At another of these informal seances attended by Goosie and MrsAntrobus, even stranger things had happened, for the Princess's hands, as they held a little preliminary conversation, began to tremble andtwitch even more strongly than Colonel Boucher's, and Mrs Quantockhastily supplied her with a pencil and a quantity of sheets of foolscappaper, for this trembling and twitching implied that Reschia, anancient Egyptian priestess, was longing to use the Princess's hand forautomatic writing. After a few wild scrawls and plunges with thepencil, the Princess, though she still continued to talk to them, covered sheet after sheet in large flowing handwriting. This, when itwas finished and the Princess sunk back in her chair, proved to be themost wonderful spiritual discourse, describing the happiness andharmony which pervaded the whole universe, and was only temporarilyobscured by the mists of materiality. These mists were wholly withdrawnfrom the vision of those who had passed over. They lived in the midstof song and flowers and light and love. .. . Towards the end there was aless intelligible passage about fire from the clouds. It was renderedcompletely intelligible the very next day when there was athunderstorm, surely an unusual occurrence in November. If that had nothappened Mrs Quantock's interpretation of it, as referring toZeppelins, would have been found equally satisfactory. It was no wonderafter that, that Mrs Antrobus, Piggy and Goosie spent long eveningswith pencils and paper, for the Princess said that everybody had thegift of automatic writing, if they would only take pains and patienceto develop it. Everybody had his own particular guide, and it was thevery next day that Piggy obtained a script clearly signed AnnabelNicostratus and Jamifleg followed very soon after for her mother andsister, and so there was no jealousy. 

But the crown and apex of these manifestations was undoubtedly thethree regular seances which took place to the three select circlesafter dinner. Musical boxes resounded, violins gave forth ravishingairs, the sitters were touched by unseen fingers when everybody's handswere touching all around the table, and from the middle of itmaterialisations swathed in muslin were built up. Pocky came, visibleto the eye, and played spirit music. Amadeo, melancholy and impressive, recited Dante, and Cardinal Newman, not visible to the eye but audibleto the ear, joined in the singing "Lead, Kindly Light, " which thesecretary requested them to encourage him with, and blessed themprofusely at the conclusion. Lady Ambermere was so much impressed, andso nervous of driving home alone, that she insisted on Georgie's goingback to the Hall with her, and consigning her person to Pug and MissLyall, and for the three days of the Princess's visit, there waspractically no subject discussed at the parliaments on the Green, except the latest manifestations. Olga went to town for a crystal, andGeorgie for a planchette, and Riseholme temporarily became aspiritualistic republic, with the Princess as priestess and MrsQuantock as President. 

Lucia, all this time, was almost insane with pique and jealousy, forshe sat in vain waiting for an invitation to come to a seance, andwould, long before the three days were over, have welcomed withenthusiasm a place at one of the inferior and informal exhibitions. Since she could not procure the Princess for dinner, she asked Daisy tobring her to lunch or tea or at any hour day or night which wasconvenient. She made Peppino hang about opposite Daisy's house, withorders to drop his stick, or let his hat blow off, if he saw even thesecretary coming out of the gate, so as possibly to enter intoconversation with him, while she positively forced herself one morninginto Daisy's hall, and cried "Margarita" in silvery tones. On thisoccasion Margarita came out of the drawing-room with a most determinedexpression on her face, and shut the door carefully behind her. 

"Dearest Lucia, " she said, "how nice to see you! What is it?"

"I just popped in for a chat, " said she. "I haven't set eyes on yousince the evening of the Spanish quartette. "

"No! So long ago as that is it? Well, you must come in again sometimevery soon, won't you? The day after tomorrow I shall be much less busy. Promise to look in then. "

"You have a visitor with you, have you not?" asked Lucia desperately. 

"Yes! Two, indeed, dear friends of mine. But I am afraid you would notlike them. I know your opinion about anything connected withspiritualism, and--isn't it silly of us?--we've been dabbling in that. "

"Oh, but how interesting, " said Lucia. "I--I am always ready to learn, and alter my opinions if I am wrong. "

Mrs Quantock did not move from in front of the drawing-room door. 

"Yes?" she said. "Then we will have a great talk about it, when youcome to see me the day after tomorrow. But I know I shall find you hardto convince. "

She kissed the tips of her fingers in a manner so hopelessly final thatthere was nothing to do but go away. 

Then with poor generalship, Lucia altered her tactics, and went up tothe Village Green where Piggy was telling Georgie about the scriptsigned Annabel. This was repeated again for Lucia's benefit. 

"Wasn't it too lovely?" said Piggy. "So Annabel's my guide, and shewrites a hand quite unlike mine. "

Lucia gave a little scream, and put her fingers to her ears. 

"Gracious me!" she said. "What has come over Riseholme? Wherever I go Ihear nothing but talk of seances, and spirits, and automatic writing. Such a pack of nonsense, my dear Piggy. I wonder at a sensible girllike you. "

Mrs Weston, propelled by the Colonel, whirled up in her bath-chair. 

"'The Palmist's Manual' is too wonderful, " she said, "and Jacob and Isat up over it till I don't know what hour. There's a break in his lineof life, just at the right place, when he was so ill in Egypt, which ismost remarkable, and when Tommy Luton brought round my bath-chair thismorning--I had it at the garden-door, because the gravel's just laid atmy front-door, and the wheels sink so far into it--'Tommy, ' I said, 'let me look at your hand a moment, ' and there on his line of fate, wasthe little cross that means bereavement. It came just right didn't it, Jacob? when he was thirteen, for he's fourteen this year, and Mrs Lutondied just a year ago. Of course I didn't tell Tommy that, for I onlytold him to wash his hands, but it was most curious. And has yourplanchette come yet, Mr Georgie? I shall be most anxious to know whatit writes, so if you've got an evening free any night soon just comeround for a bit of dinner, and we'll make an evening of it, with tableturning and planchette and palmistry. Now tell me all about the seancethe first night. I wish I could have been present at a real seance, butof course Mrs Quantock can't find room for everybody, and I'm sure itwas most kind of her to let the Colonel and me come in yesterdayafternoon. We were thrilled with it, and who knows but that thePrincess didn't write the Palmist's Manual for on the title page itsays it's by P. And that might be Popoffski as easily as not, orperhaps Princess. "

This allusion to there not being room for everybody was agony to Lucia. She laughed in her most silvery manner. 

"Or, perhaps Peppino, " she said. "I must ask _mio caro_ if hewrote it. Or does it stand for Pillson? Georgino, are you the author ofthe Palmist's Manual? Ecco! I believe it was you. "

This was not quite wise, for no one detested irony more than MrsWeston, or was sharper to detect it. Lucia should never have beenironical just then, nor indeed have dropped into Italian. 

"No" she said. "I'm sure it was neither Il Signer Peppino nor Il SignerPillson who wrote it. I believe it was the Principessa. So, ecco! Anddid we not have a delicious evening at Miss Bracely's the other night?Such lovely singing, and so interesting to learn that Signor Cortesemade it all up. And those lovely words, for though I didn't understandmuch of them, they sounded so exquisite. And fancy Miss Bracely talkingItalian so beautifully when we none of us knew she talked it at all. "

Mrs Weston's amiable face was crimson with suppressed emotion, of whichthese few words were only the most insignificant leakage, and a veryawkward pause succeeded which was luckily broken by everybody beginningto talk again very fast and brightly. Then Mrs Weston's chair scuddedaway; Piggy skipped away to the stocks where Goosie was sitting with alarge sheet of foolscap, in case her hand twitched for automaticscript, and Lucia turned to Georgie, who alone was left. 

"Poor Daisy!" she said. "I dropped in just now, and really I found hervery odd and strange. What with her crazes for Christian Science, andUric Acid and Gurus and Mediums, one wonders if she is quite sane. Sosad! I should be dreadfully sorry if she had some mental collapse; thatsort of thing is always so painful. But I know of a first-rate placefor rest-cures; I think it would be wise if I just casually dropped thename of it to Mr Robert, in case. And this last craze seems so terriblyinfectious. Fancy Mrs Weston dabbling in palmistry! It is too comical, but I hope I did not hurt her feelings by suggesting that Peppino oryou wrote the Manual, It is dangerous to make little jokes to poor MrsWeston. "

Georgie quite agreed with that, but did not think it necessary to sayin what sense he agreed with it. Every day now Lucia was pouring floodsof light on a quite new side of her character, which had beenundeveloped, like the print from some photographic plate lying in thedark so long as she was undisputed mistress of Riseholme. But, so itstruck him now, since the advent of Olga, she had taken up a criticalironical standpoint, which previously she had reserved for Londoners. At every turn she had to criticise and condemn where once she wouldonly have praised. So few months ago, there had been that marvellousHightum garden party, when Olga had sung long after Lady Ambermere hadgone away. That was her garden party; the splendour and success of ithad been hers, and no one had been allowed to forget that until Olgacame back again. But the moment that happened, and Olga began to singon her own account (which after all, so Georgie thought, she had aperfect right to do), the whole aspect of affairs was changed. Sheromped, and Riseholme did not like romps; she sang in church, and thatwas theatrical; she gave a party with the Spanish quartette, andBrinton was publicly credited with the performance. Then had come MrsQuantock and her Princess, and, lo, it would be kind to remember thename of an establishment for rest-cures, in the hope of saving poorDaisy's sanity. Again Colonel Boucher and Mrs Weston were intending toget married, and consulted a Palmist's Manual, so they too helped todevelop as with acid the print that had lain so long in the dark. 

"Poor thing!" said Lucia, "it is dreadful to have no sense of humour, and I'm sure I hope that Colonel Boucher will thoroughly understandthat she has none before he speaks the fatal words. But then he hasnone either, and I have often noticed that two people without any senseof humour find each other most witty and amusing. A sense of humour, Iexpect, is not a very common gift; Miss Bracely has none at all, for Ido not call romping humour. As for poor Daisy, what can rival hersolemnity in sitting night after night round a table with someone whomay or may not be a Russian princess--Russia of course is a very largeplace, and one does not know how many princesses there may bethere--and thrilling over a pot of luminous paint and a false nose andcalling it Amadeo the friend of Dante. "

This was too much for Georgie. 

"But you asked Mrs Quantock and the Princess to dine with you, " hesaid, "and hoped there would be a seance afterwards. You wouldn't havedone that, if you thought it was only a false nose and a pot ofluminous paint. "

"I may have been impulsive, " said Lucia speaking very rapidly. "Idaresay I'm impulsive, and if my impulses lie in the direction ofextending such poor hospitality as I can offer to my friends, and theirfriends, I am not ashamed of them. Far otherwise. But when I see andobserve the awful effect of this so-called spiritualism on people whomI should have thought sensible and well-balanced--I do not include poordear Daisy among them--then I am only thankful that my impulses did nothappen to lead me into countenancing such piffle, as your sister sotruly observed about POOR Daisy's Guru. "

They had come opposite Georgie's house, and suddenly his drawing-roomwindow was thrown up. Olga's head looked out. 

"Don't have a fit, Georgie, to find me here" she said. "Good morning, Mrs Lucas; you were behind the mulberry, and I didn't see you. Butsomething's happened to my kitchen range, and I can't have lunch athome. Do give me some. I've brought my crystal, and we'll gaze andgaze. I can see nothing at present except my own nose and the window. Are you psychical, Mrs Lucas?"

This was the last straw; all Lucia's grievances had been flockingtogether like swallows for their flight, and to crown all came thisopen annexation of Georgie. There was Olga, sitting in his window, allunasked, and demanding lunch, with her silly ridiculous crystal in herhand, wondering if Lucia was psychical. 

Her silvery laugh was a little shrill. It started a full tone above itsnormal pitch. 

"No, dear Miss Bracely, " she said. "I am afraid I am much toocommonplace and matter-of-fact to care about such things. It is agreat loss I know, and deprives me of the pleasant society of Russianprincesses. But we are all made differently; that is very lucky. I mustget home, Georgie. "

It certainly seemed very lucky that everyone was not precisely likeLucia at that moment, or there would have been quarrelling. 

She walked quickly off, and Georgie entered his house. Lucia had reallybeen remarkably rude, and, if allusion was made to it, he was ready toconfess that she seemed a little worried. Friendship would allow that, and candour demanded it. But no allusion of any sort was made. Therewas a certain flush on Olga's face, and she explained that she had beensitting over the fire. 

The Princess's visit came to an end next day, and all the world knewthat she was going back to London by the 11. 00 a. M. Express. LadyAmbermere was quite aware of it, and drove in with Pug and Miss Lyall, meaning to give her a lift to the station, leaving Mrs Quantock, if shewanted to see her guest off, to follow with the Princess's luggage inthe fly which, no doubt, had been ordered. But Daisy had no intentionof permitting this sort of thing, and drove calmly away with her dearfriend in Georgie's motor, leaving the baffled Lady Ambermere to followor not as she liked. She did like, though not much, and found herselfon the platform among a perfect crowd of Riseholmites who had strolleddown to the station on this lovely morning to see if parcels had come. Lady Ambermere took very little notice of them, but managed that Pugshould give his paw to the Princess as she took her seat, and waved herhand to Mrs Quantock's dear friend, as the train slid out of thestation. 

"The late lord had some Russian relations, " she said majestically. "Howdid you get to know her?"

"I met her at Potsdam" was on the tip of Mrs Quantock's tongue, but shewas afraid that Lady Ambermere might not understand, and ask her whenshe had been to Potsdam. It was grievous work making jokes for LadyAmbermere. 

The train sped on to London, and the Princess opened the envelope whichher hostess had discreetly put in her hand, and found that _that_was all right. Her hostess had also provided her with an admirablelunch, which her secretary took out of a Gladstone bag. When that wasfinished, she wanted her cigarettes, and as she looked for these, andeven after she had found them, she continued to search for somethingelse. There was the musical box there, and some curious pieces ofelastic, and the violin was in its case, and there was a white mask. But she still continued to search. .. . 

About the same time as she gave up the search, Mrs Quantock wanderedupstairs to the Princess's room. A less highly vitalised nature thanhers would have been in a stupor of content, but she was more in afrenzy of content than in a stupor. How fine that frenzy was may bejudged from the fact that perhaps the smallest ingredient in it was herutter defeat of Lucia, She cared comparatively little for that gloriousachievement, and she was not sure that when the Princess came backagain, as she had arranged to do on her next holiday, she would not askLucia to come to a seance. Indeed she had little but pity for thevanquished, so great were the spoils. Never had Riseholme risen to sucha pitch of enthusiasm, and with good cause had it done so now, for ofall the wonderful and exciting things that had ever happened there, these seances were the most delirious. And better even than theexcitement of Riseholme was the cause of its excitement, forspiritualism and the truth of inexplicable psychic phenomena hadflashed upon them all. Tableaux, romps, Yoga, the Moonlight Sonata, Shakespeare, Christian Science, Olga herself, Uric Acid, Elizabethanfurniture, the engagement of Colonel Boucher and Mrs Weston, all thesetremendous topics had paled like fire in the sunlight before therevelation that had now dawned. By practice and patience, by zealousconcentration on crystals and palms, by the waiting for automaticscript to develop, you attained to the highest mysteries, and couldevoke Cardinal Newman, or Pocky. .. . 

There was the bed in which the Sybil had slept; there was the freshvase of flowers, difficult to procure in November, but stillobtainable, which she loved to have standing near her. There was thechest of drawers in which she had put her clothes, and Mrs Quantockpulled them open one by one, finding fresh emanations and vibrationseverywhere. The lowest one stuck a little, and she had to use force toit. .. . 

The smile was struck from her face, as it flew open. Inside it werebillows and billows of the finest possible muslin. Fold after fold ofit she drew out, and with it there came a pair of false eyebrows. Sherecognised them at once as being Amadeo's. The muslin belonged to Pockyas well. 

She needed but a moment's concentrated thought, and in swift successionrejected two courses of action that suggested themselves. The first wasto use the muslin herself; it would make summer garments for years. Thechief reason against that was that she was a little old for muslin. Thesecond course was to send the whole paraphernalia back to her dearfriend, with or without a comment. But that would be tantamount to adirect accusation of fraud. Never any more, if she did that, could shedispense her dear friend to Riseholme like an expensive drug. She wouldnot so utterly burn her boats. There remained only one other judiciouscourse of action, and she got to work. 

It had been a cold morning, clear and frosty, and she had caused a goodfire to be lit in the Princess's bedroom, for her to dress by. It stillprospered in the grate, and Mrs Quantock, having shut the door andlocked it, put on to it the false eyebrows, which, as they turned toash, flew up the chimney. Then she fed it with muslin; yards and yardsof muslin she poured on to it; never had there been so much muslin northat so exquisitely fine. It went to her heart to burn it, but therewas no time for minor considerations; every atom of that evidence mustbe purged by fire. The Princess would certainly not write and say thatshe had left some eyebrows and a hundred yards of muslin behind her, for, knowing what she did, it would be to her interests as well as MrsQuantock's that those properties should vanish, as if they never hadbeen. 

Up the chimney in sheets of flame went this delightful fabric;sometimes it roared there, as if it had set the chimney on fire, andshe had to pause, shielding her scorched face, until the hollowrumbling had died down. But at last the holocaust was over, and sheunlocked the door again. No one knew but she, and no one should everknow. The Guru had turned out to be a curry-cook, but no intrudingHermy had been here this time. As long as crystals fascinated andautomatic writing flourished, the secret of the muslin and the eyebrowsshould repose in one bosom alone. Riseholme had been electrified byspiritualism, and, even now, the seances had been cheap at the price, and in spite of this discovery, she felt by no means sure that shewould not ask the Princess to come again and minister to theirspiritual needs. 

She had hardly got downstairs when Robert came in from the Green, wherehe had been recounting the experiences of the last seance. 

"Looked as if there was a chimney on fire, " he said. "I wish it was thekitchen chimney. Then perhaps the beef mightn't be so raw as it wasyesterday. "

Thus is comedy intertwined with tragedy!

Chapter FOURTEEN

Georgie was very busily engaged during the first weeks of December ona water-colour sketch of Olga sitting at her piano and singing. Thedifficulty of it was such that at times he almost despaired ofaccomplishing it, for the problem of how to draw her face and her mouthwide open and yet retain the likeness seemed almost insoluble. Often hesat in front of his own looking-glass with his mouth open, anddiligently drew his own face, in order to arrive at the principles ofthe changes of line which took place. Certainly the shape of a person'sface, when his mouth was wide open altered so completely that you wouldhave thought him quite unrecognisable, however skilfully the artistreproduced his elongated countenance, and yet Georgie could easilyrecognise that face in the glass as his. Forehead, eyes and cheek-bonesalone retained their wonted aspect; even the nose seemed to lengthen ifyou opened your mouth very wide. .. . Then how again was he to indicatethat she was singing and not yawning, or preparing for a sneeze? Hismost successful sketch at present looked precisely as if she wasyawning, and made Georgie's jaws long to yawn too. Perhaps the shape ofthe mouth in the two positions was really the same, and it was only thesound that led you to suppose that an open-mouthed person was singing. But perhaps the piano would supply the necessary suggestion; Olga wouldnot sit down at the piano merely to yawn or sneeze, for she could dothat anywhere. 

Then a brilliant idea struck him: he would introduce a shaded lampstanding on the piano, and then her face would be in red shadow. Naturally this entailed fresh problems with regard to light, but lightseemed to present less difficulty than likeness. Besides he could makeher dress, and the keys of the piano very like indeed. But when he cameto painting again he despaired. There must be red shadow on her faceand yellow light on her hands, and on her green dress, and presentlythe whole thing looked not so much like Olga singing by lamp-light, asa lobster-salad spread out in the sunlight. The more he painted, themore vividly did the lettuce leaves and the dressing and the lobsteremerge from the paper. So he took away the lamp, and shut Olga's mouth, and there she would be at her piano just going to sing. 

These artistic agonies had rewards which more than compensated forthem, for regularly now he took his drawing-board and his paint-boxacross to her house, and sat with her while she practised. There werenone of love's lilies low or yawning York now, for she was very busylearning her part in Lucretia, spending a solid two hours at it everymorning, and Georgie began to perceive what sort of work it implied toproduce the spontaneous ease with which Brunnhilde hailed the sun. Moreastounding even was the fact that this mere learning of notes was butthe preliminary to what she called "real work. " And when she had gotthrough the mere mechanical part of it, she would have to study. Thenwhen her practice was over, she would indulgently sit with her head inprofile against a dark background, and Georgie would suck one end ofhis brush and bite the other, and wonder whether he would ever produceanything which he could dare to offer her. By daily poring on her face, he grew not to admire only but to adore its youth and beauty, by dailycontact with her he began to see how fresh and how lovely was the mindthat illuminated it. 

"Georgie, I'm going to scold you, " she said one day, as she took up herplace against the black panel. "You're a selfish little brute. Youthink of nothing but your own amusement. Did that ever strike you?"

Georgie gasped with surprise. Here was he spending the whole of everymorning trying to do something which would be a worthy Christmaspresent for her (to say nothing of the hours he had spent with hismouth open in front of his glass, and the cost of the beautiful framewhich he had ordered) and yet he was supposed to be only thinking abouthimself. Of course Olga did not know that the picture was to behers. .. . 

"How tarsome you are!" he said. "You're always finding fault with me. Explain. "

"Well, you're neglecting your old friends for your new one, " she said. "My dear, you should never drop an old friend. For instance, when didyou last play duets with Mrs Lucas?"

"Oh, not so very long ago, " said Georgie. 

"Quite long enough, I am sure. But I don't actually mean sitting downand thumping the piano with her. When did you last think about her andmake plans for her and talk baby-language?"

"Who told you I ever did?" asked Georgie. 

"Gracious! How can I possibly remember that sort of thing? I should sayat a guess that everybody told me. Now poor Mrs Lucas is feeling out ofit, and neglected and dethroned. It's all on my mind rather, and I'mtalking to you about it, because it's largely your fault. Now we'retalking quite frankly, so don't fence, and say it's mine. I knowexactly what you mean, but you are perfectly wrong. Primarily, it's MrsLucas's fault, because she's quite the stupidest woman I ever saw, butit's partly your fault too. "

She turned round. 

"Come, Georgie, let's have it out, " she said. "I'm perfectly powerlessto do anything, because she detests me, and you've got to help her andhelp me, and drop your selfishness. Before I came here, she used to runyou all, and give you treats like going to her tableaux and listeningto her stupid old Moonlight Sonata, and talking seven words of Italian. And then I came along with no earthly intention except to enjoy myholidays, and she got it into her head that I was trying to run theplace instead of her. Isn't that so? Just say 'yes. '"

"Yes, " said Georgie. 

"Well, that puts me in an odious position and a helpless position. Idid my best to be nice to her; I went to her house until she ceased toask me, and asked her here for everything that I thought would amuseher, until she ceased to come. I took no notice of her rudeness whichwas remarkable, or of her absurd patronising airs, which didn't hurt mein the smallest degree. But Georgie, she would continue to make such adreadful ass of herself, and think it was my fault. Was it my faultthat she didn't know the Spanish quartette when she heard it, or thatshe didn't know a word of Italian, when she pretended she did, or thatthe other day (it was the last time I saw her, when you played yourDebussy to us at Aunt Jane's) she talked to me about inverted fifths?"

Olga suddenly burst out laughing, and Georgie assumed the Riseholmeface of intense curiosity. 

"You must tell me all about that, " he said, "and I'll tell you the restwhich you don't know. "

Olga succumbed too, and began to talk in Aunt Jane's voice, for she hadadopted her as an aunt. 

"Well, it was last Monday week" she said "or was it Sunday? No itcouldn't have been Sunday because I don't have anybody to tea that day, as Elizabeth goes over to Jacob's and spends the afternoon withAtkinson, or the other way about, which doesn't signify, as the pointis that Elizabeth should be free. So it was Monday, and Aunt Jane--it'sme talking again--had the tea-party at which you played Poisson d'Or. And when it was finished, Mrs Lucas gave a great sigh, and said 'PoorGeorgino! Wasting his time over that rubbish, ' though she knew quitewell that I had given it to you. And so I said, 'Would you call itrubbish, do you think?' and she said 'Quite. Every rule of music isviolated. Don't those inverted fifths make you wince, Miss Bracely?'"

Olga laughed again, and spoke in her own voice. 

"Oh, Georgie, she is an ass, " she said. "What she meant I suppose wasconsecutive fifths; you can't invert a fifth. So I said (I really meantit as a joke), 'Of course there is that, but you must forgive Debussythat for the sake of that wonderful passage of submerged tenths!' Andshe took it quite gravely and shook her head, and said she was afraidshe was a purist. What happened next? That's all I know. "

"Directly afterwards, " said Georgie, "she brought the music to me, andasked me to show her where the passage of tenths came. I didn't know, but I found some tenths, and she brightened up and said 'Yes, it istrue; those submerged tenths are very impressive. ' Then I suggestedthat the submerged tenth was not a musical expression, but referred toa section of the population. On which she said no more, but when shewent away she asked me to send her some book on 'Harmony. ' I daresayshe is looking for the submerged tenth still. "

Olga lit a cigarette and became grave again. 

"Well, it can't go on, " she said. "We can't have the poor thing feelingangry and out of it. Then there was Mrs Quantock absolutely refusing tolet her see the Princess. "

"That was her own fault, " said Georgie. "It was because she was sogreedy about the Guru. "

"That makes it all the bitterer. And I can't do anything, because sheblames me for it all. I would ask her and her Peppino here every night, and listen to her dreary tunes every evening, and let her have it allher own way, if it would do any good. But things have gone too far; shewouldn't come. It has all happened without my noticing it. I neveradded it all up as it went along, and I hate it. "

Georgie thought of the spiritualistic truths. 

"If you're an incarnation, " he said in a sudden glow of admiration, "you're the incarnation of an angel. How you can forgive her odiousmanners to you----"

"My dear, shut up, " said Olga. "We've got to do something. Now howwould it be if you gave a nice party on Christmas night, and asked herat once? Ask her to help you in getting it up; make it clear she'sgoing to run it. "

"All right. You'll come, won't you?"

"Certainly I will not. Perhaps I will come in after dinner with Goosieor some one of that sort. Don't you see it would spoil it all if I wereat dinner? You must rather pointedly leave me out. Give her a niceexpensive refined Christmas present too. You might give her thatpicture you're doing of me--No, I suppose she wouldn't like that. Butjust comfort her and make her feel you can't get on without her. You'vebeen her right hand all these years. Make her give her tableaux again. And then I think you must ask me in afterwards. I long to see her andPeppino as Brunnhilde and Siegfried. Just attend to her, Georgie, andbuck her up. Promise me you will. And do it as if your heart was in it, otherwise it's no good. "

Georgie began packing up his paint-box. This was not the plan he hadhoped for on Christmas Day, but if Olga wished this, it had got to bedone. 

"Well, I'll do my best, " he said. 

"Thanks ever so much. You're a darling. And how is your planchettegetting on? I've been lazy about my crystal, but I get so tired of myown nose. "

"Planchette would write nothing but a few names, " said Georgie, omitting the fact that Olga's was the most frequent. "I think I shalldrop it. "

This was but reasonable, for since Riseholme had some new and absorbingexcitement every few weeks, to say nothing of the current excitement ofdaily life, it followed that even the most thrilling pursuits could nothold the stage for very long. Still, the interest in spiritualism haddied down with the rapidity of the seed on stony ground. 

"Even Mrs Quantock seems to have cooled, " said Olga. "She and herhusband were here last night, and they looked rather bored when Isuggested table-turning. I wonder if anything has happened to put heroff it?"

"What do you think could have?" asked Georgie with Riseholme alacrity. 

"Georgie, do you really believe in the Princess and Pocky?" she asked. 

Georgie looked round to see that there was no one within hearing. 

"I did at the time, " he said, "at least I think I did. But it seemsless likely now. Who was the Princess anyway? Why didn't we ever hearof her before? I believe Mrs Quantock met her in the train orsomething. "

"So do I, " said Olga. "But not a word. It makes Aunt Jane and UncleJacob completely happy to believe in it all. Their lines of life areenormous, and they won't die till they're over a hundred. Now go andsee Mrs Lucas, and if she doesn't ask you to lunch you can come backhere. "

Georgie put down his picture and painting-apparatus at his house, andwent on to Lucia's, definitely conscious that though he did not want tohave her to dinner on Christmas Day, or go back to his duets and his A. D. C. Duties, there was a spice and savour in so doing that cameentirely from the fact that Olga wished him to, that by this service hewas pleasing her. In itself it was distasteful, in itself it tended tocut him off from her, if he had to devote his time to Lucia, but hestill delighted in doing it. 

"I believe I am falling in love with her this time, " said Georgie tohimself. .. . "She's wonderful; she's big; she's---"

At that moment his thoughts were violently diverted, for RobertQuantock came out of his house in a tremendous hurry, merely scowlingat Georgie, and positively trotted across the Green in the direction ofthe news-agent's. Instantly Georgie recollected that he had seen himthere already this morning before his visit to Olga, buying a newtwopenny paper in a yellow cover called "Todd's News. " They had had afew words of genial conversation, and what could have happened in thelast two hours that made Robert merely gnash his teeth at Georgie now, and make a second visit to the paper-shop?

It was impossible not to linger a moment and see what Robert did whenhe got to the paper-shop, and with the aid of his spectacles Georgieperceived that he presently loaded himself with a whole packet ofpapers in yellow covers, presumably "Todd's News. " Flesh and bloodcould not resist the cravings of curiosity, and making a detour, so asto avoid being gnashed at again by Robert, who was coming rapidly backin his direction, he strolled round to the paper-shop and asked for acopy of "Todd's News. " Instantly the bright December morning grew darkwith mystery, for the proprietor told him that Mr Quantock has boughtevery copy he possessed of it. No further information could beobtained, except that he had bought a copy of every other daily paperas well. 

Georgie could make nothing of it whatever, and having observed Roberthurry into his house again, went on his errand to Lucia. Had he seenwhat Robert did when he got home, it is doubtful if he could haveavoided breaking into the house and snatching a copy of "Todd's News"from him. .. . 

Robert went to his study, and locked the door. He drew out from underhis blotting-pad the first copy of "Todd's News" that he bought earlierin the morning, and put it with the rest. Then with a furrowed brow heturned to the police-reports in the "Times" and after looking at themlaid the paper down. He did the same to the "Daily Telegraph, " the"Daily Mail, " the "Morning Post, " the "Daily Chronicle. " Finally (thiswas the last of the daily papers) he perused "The Daily Mirror, " toreit in shreds, and said "Damn. "

He sat for a while in thought, trying to recollect if anybody inRiseholme except Colonel Boucher took in the "Daily Mirror. " But hefelt morally certain that no one did, and letting himself out of hisstudy, and again locking the door after him, he went into the street, and saw at a glance that the Colonel was employed in whirling MrsWeston round the Green. Instead of joining them he hurried to theColonel's house and, for there was no time for half-measures, fixedAtkinson with his eye, and said he would like to write a note toColonel Boucher. He was shown into his sitting-room, and saw the "DailyMirror" lying open on the table. As soon as he was left alone, hestuffed it into his pocket, told Atkinson he would speak to the Colonelinstead, and intercepted the path of the bath-chair. He was nearly runover, but stood his ground, and in a perfectly firm voice asked theColonel if there was any news in the morning papers. With the Colonel'sdecided negative ringing joyfully in his ears, he went home again, andlocked himself for the second time into his study. 

There is a luxury, when some fell danger has been averted by promptnessand presence of mind, in living through the moments of that dangeragain, and Robert opened "Todd's News, " for that gave the fulleraccount, and read over the paragraph in the police news headed "BogusRussian Princess. " But now he gloated over the lines which had made himshudder before when he read how Marie Lowenstein, of 15, Gerald Street, Charing Cross Road, calling herself Princess Popoffski, had beenbrought up at the Bow Street Police Court for fraudulently professingto tell fortunes and produce materialised spirits at a seance in herflat. Sordid details followed: a detective who had been there seized anapparition by the throat, and turned on the electric light. It was thewoman Popoffski's throat that he held, and her secretary, HezekiahSchwarz, was discovered under the table detaching an electric hammer. Afine was inflicted. .. . 

A moment's mental debate was sufficient to determine Robert not to tellhis wife. It was true that she had produced Popoffski, but then he hadpraised and applauded her for that; he, no less than she, had beenconvinced of Popoffski's integrity, high rank and marvellous psychicpowers, and together they had soared to a pinnacle of unexampledgreatness in the Riseholme world. Besides poor Daisy would be simplyflattened out if she knew that Popoffski was no better than the Guru. He glanced at the pile of papers, and at the fire place. .. . 

It had been a cold morning, clear and frosty, and a good blazeprospered in the grate. Out of each copy, of "Todd's News" he tore thepage on which were printed the police reports, and fed the fire withthem. Page after page he put upon it; never had so much paper beendevoted to one grate. Up the chimney they flew in sheets of flame;sometimes he was afraid he had set it on fire, and he had to pause, shielding his scorched face, until the hollow rumbling had died down. With the page from two copies of the "Daily Mirror" the holocaust wasover, and he unlocked the door again. No one in Riseholme knew but he, and no one should ever know. Riseholme had been electrified byspiritualism, and even now the seances had been cheap at the price. 

The debris of all these papers he caused to be removed by thehousemaid, and this was hardly done when his wife came in from theGreen. 

"I thought there was a chimney on fire, Robert, " she said. "You wouldhave liked it to be the kitchen-chimney as you said the other day. "

"Stuff and nonsense, my dear, " said he. "Lunch-time, isn't it?"

"Yes. Ah, there's the post. None for me, and two for you. "

She looked at him narrowly as he took his letters. Perhaps theirsubconscious minds (according to her dear friend's theory) heldcommunication, but only the faintest unintelligible ripple of thatappeared on the surface. 

"I haven't heard from my Princess since she went away, " she remarked. 

Robert gave a slight start; he was a little off his guard from thereaction after his anxiety. 

"Indeed!" he said. "Have you written to her?"

She appeared to try to remember. 

"Well, I really don't believe I have, " she said. "That is remiss of me. I must send her a long budget one of these days. "

This time he looked narrowly at her. Had she a secret, he wondered, aswell as he? What could it be?. .. 

Georgie found his mission none too easy, and it was only the thoughtthat it was a labour of love, or something very like it, that enabledhim to persevere. Even then for the first few minutes he thought itmight prove love's labour's lost, so bright and unreal was Lucia. 

He had half crossed Shakespeare's garden, and had clearly seen herstanding at the window of the music-room, when she stole away, and nextmoment the strains of some slow movement, played very loud, drowned thebell on the mermaid's tail so completely that he wondered whether ithad rung at all. As a matter of fact, Lucia and Peppino were in themidst of a most serious conversation when Georgie came through thegate, which was concerned with deciding what was to be done. A party atThe Hurst sometime during Christmas week was as regular as the festivalitself, but this year everything was so unusual. Who were to be askedin the first place? Certainly not Mrs Weston, for she had talkedItalian to Lucia in a manner impossible to misinterpret, and probably, so said Lucia with great acidity, she would be playing children's gameswith her _promesso_. It was equally impossible to ask Miss Bracelyand her husband, for relations were already severed on account of theSpanish quartette and Signer Cortese, and as for the Quantocks, didPeppino expect Lucia to ask Mrs Quantock again ever? Then there wasGeorgie, who had become so different and strange, and . .. Well here wasGeorgie. Hastily she sat down at the piano, and Peppino closed his eyesfor the slow movement. 

The opening of the door was lost on Lucia, and Peppino's eyes wereclosed. Consequently Georgie sat down on the nearest chair, and waited. At the end Peppino sighed, and he sighed too. 

"Who is that?" said Lucia sharply. "Why is it you, Georgie? What astranger. Aren't you? Any news?"

This was all delivered in the coldest of tones, and Lucia snatched amorsel of wax off Eb. 

"I've heard none, " said Georgie in great discomfort. "I just droppedin. "

Lucia fixed Peppino with a glance. If she had shouted at the top of hervoice she could not have conveyed more unmistakably that she was goingto manage this situation. 

"Ah, that is very pleasant, " she said. "Peppino and I have been so busylately that we have seen nobody. We are quite country-cousins, and sothe town-mouse must spare us a little cheese. How is dear Miss Bracelynow?"

"Very well, " said Georgie. "I saw her this morning. "

Lucia gave a sigh of relief. 

"That is good, " she said. "Peppino, do you hear? Miss Bracely is quitewell. Not overtired with practising that new opera? Lucy Grecian, wasit? Oh, how silly I am! Lucretia; that was it, by that extraordinaryNeapolitan. Yes. And what next? Our good Mrs Weston, now! Stillthinking about her nice young man? Making orange-flower wreaths, andchoosing bridesmaids? How naughty I am! Yes. And then dear Daisy? Howis she? Still entertaining princesses? I look in the Court Circularevery morning to see if Princess Pop--Pop--Popoff isn't it? if PrincessPopoff has popped off to see her cousin the Czar again. Dear me!"

The amount of malice, envy and all uncharitableness which Lucia managedto put into this quite unrehearsed speech was positively amazing. Shehad not thought it over beforehand for a moment; it came out with theaugust spontaneity of lightning leaping from a cloud. Not till thatmoment had Georgie guessed at a tithe of all that Olga had felt socertain about, and a double emotion took hold of him. He was immenselysorry for Lucia, never having conjectured how she must have sufferedbefore she attained to so superb a sourness, and he adored theintuition that had guessed it and wanted to sweeten it. 

The outburst was not quite over yet, though Lucia felt distinctlybetter. 

"And you, Georgie, " she said, "though I'm sure we are such strangersthat I ought to call you Mr Pillson, what have you been doing? PlayingMiss Bracely's accompaniments, and sewing wedding-dresses all day, andraising spooks all night? Yes. "

Lucia had caught this "Yes" from Lady Ambermere, having found itpeculiarly obnoxious. You laid down a proposition, or asked a question, and then confirmed it yourself. 

"And Mr Cortese, " she said, "is he still roaring out his marvellousEnglish and Italian? Yes. What a full life you lead, Georgie. I supposeyou have no time for your painting now. "

This was not a bow drawn at a venture, for she had seen Georgie comeout of Old Place with his paint-box and drawing-board, but this directattack on him did not lessen the power of the "sweet charity" which hadsent him here. He blew the bugle to rally all the good-nature for whichhe was capable. 

"No, I have been painting lately, " he said, "at least I have beentrying to. I'm doing a little sketch of Miss Bracely at her piano, which I want to give her on Christmas Day. But it's so difficult. Iwish I had brought it round to ask your advice, but you would only havescreamed with laughter at it. It's a dreadful failure: much worse thanthose I gave you for your birthdays. Fancy your keeping them still inyour lovely music-room. Send them to the pantry, and I'll do somethingbetter for you next. "

Lucia, try as she might, could not help being rather touched by that. There they all were: "Golden Autumn Woodland, " "Bleak December, ""Yellow Daffodils, " and "Roses of Summer. ". .. 

"Or have them blacked over by the boot-boy, " she said. "Take them down, Georgie, and let me send them to be blacked. "

This was much better: there was playfulness behind the sarcasm now, which peeped out from it. He made the most of that. 

"We'll do that presently, " he said. "Just now I want to engage you andPeppino to dine with me on Christmas Day. Now don't be tarsome and sayyou're engaged. But one can never tell with you. "

"A party?" asked Lucia suspiciously. 

"Well, I thought we would have just one of our old evenings togetheragain, " said Georgie, feeling himself remarkably clever. "We'll havethe Quantocks, shan't we, and Colonel and Mrs Colonel, and you andPeppino, and me, and Mrs Rumbold? That'll make eight, which is morethan Foljambe likes, but she must lump it. Mr Rumbold is always singingcarols all Christmas evening with the choir, and she will be alone. "

"Ah, those carols" said Lucia, wincing. 

"I know: I will provide you with little wads of cotton-wool. Do comeand we'll have just a party of eight. I've asked no one yet and perhapsnobody will come. I want you and Peppino, and the rest may come or stopaway. Do say you approve. "

Lucia could not yield at once. She had to press her fingers to herforehead. 

"So kind of you, Georgie, " she said, "but I must think. Are we doinganything on Christmas night, carrissimo? Where's your engagement-book?Go and consult it. "

This was a grand manoeuvre, for hardly had Peppino left the room whenshe started up with a little scream and ran after him. 

"Me so stupid, " she cried. "Me put it in smoking-room, and poor carowill look for it ever so long. Back in minute, Georgino. "

Naturally this was perfectly clear to Georgie. She wanted to have ashort private consultation with Peppino, and he waited rather hopefullyfor their return, for Peppino, he felt sure, was bored with thisAchilles-attitude of sitting sulking in the tent. They came backwreathed in smiles, and instantly embarked on the question of what todo after dinner. No romps: certainly not, but why not the tableauxagain? The question was still under debate when they went in to lunch. It was settled affirmatively during the macaroni, and Lucia said thatthey all wanted to work her to death, and so get rid of her. They hadthought--she and Peppino--of having a little holiday on the Riviera, but anyhow they would put if off till after Christmas. Georgie's mouthwas full of crashing toast at the moment, and he could only shake hishead. But as soon as the toast could be swallowed, he made the usualreply with great fervour. 

Georgie was hardly at all complacent when he walked home afterwards, and thought how extremely good-natured he had been, for he could notbut feel that this marvellous forbearance was a sort of mistletoegrowth on him, quite foreign really to his nature. Never before hadLucia showed so shrewish and venomous a temper; he had not thought hercapable of it. For the gracious queen, there was substituted asnarling fish-wife, but then as Georgie calmly pursued the pacificmission of comfort to which Olga had ordained him, how the fish-wife'swrinkles had been smoothed out, and the asps withered from her tongue. Had his imagination ever pictured Lucia saying such things to him, itwould have supplied him with no sequel but a complete severance ofrelations between them. Instead of that he had consulted her andtruckled to her: truckled: yes, he had truckled, and he was astonishedat himself. Why had he truckled? And the beautiful mouth and kindlyeyes of Olga supplied the answer. Certainly he must drop in at once, and tell her the result of the mission. Perhaps she would reward him bycalling him a darling again. Really he deserved that she should saysomething nice to him. 

It was a day of surprises for Georgie. He found Olga at home, andrecounted, without loving any of the substance, the sarcasms of Lucia, and his own amazing tact and forbearance. He did not comment, he justnarrated the facts in the vivid Riseholme manner, and waited for hisreward. 

Olga looked at him a moment in silence: then she deliberately wiped hereyes. 

"Oh, poor Mrs Lucas" she said. "She must have been miserable to havebehaved like that! I am so sorry. Now what else can you do, Georgie, tomake her feel better?"

"I think I've done everything that could have been required of_me_, " said Georgie. "It was all I could do to keep my temper atall. I will give my party at Christmas, because I promised you Iwould. "

"Oh, but it's ten days to Christmas yet, " said Olga. "Can't you painther portrait, and give it her for a present. Oh, I think you could, playing the Moonlight-Sonata. "

Georgie felt terribly inclined to be offended and tell Olga that shewas tired of him: or to be dignified and say he was unusually busy. Never had he shown such forbearance towards downright rudeness as hehad shown to Lucia, and though he had shown that for Olga's sake, sheseemed to be without a single spark of gratitude, but continued to urgeher request. 

"Do paint a little picture of her, " she repeated. "She would love it, and make it young and interesting. Think over it, anyhow: perhapsyou'll think of something better than that. And now won't you go andsecure all your guests for Christmas at once?"

Georgie turned to leave the room, but just as he got to the door shespoke again:

"I think you're a brick, " she said. 

Somehow this undemonstrative expression of approval began to glow inGeorgie's heart as he walked home. Apparently she took it for grantedthat he was going to behave with all the perfect tact and good-temperthat he had shown. It did not surprise her in the least, she had almostforgotten to indicate that she had noticed it at all. And that, as hethought about it, seemed a far deeper compliment than if she had toldhim how wonderful he was. She took it for granted, no more nor less, that he would be kind and pleasant, whatever Lucia said. He had notfallen short of her standard. .. . 

Chapter FIFTEEN

Georgie's Christmas party had just taken its seats at his roundrosewood table without a cloth, and he hoped that Foljambe would bequick with the champagne, because there had been rather a long waitbefore dinner, owing to Lucia and Peppino being late, and conversationhad been a little jerky. Lucia, as usual, had sailed into the room, without a word of apology, for she was accustomed to come last when shewent out to dinner, and on her arrival dinner was always announcedimmediately. The few seconds that intervened were employed by her insaying just one kind word to everybody. Tonight, however, thesegratifying utterances had not been received with the gratifiedresponses to which she was accustomed: there was a different atmosphereabroad, and it was as if she were no more than one-eighth of the entireparty. .. . But it would never do to hurry Foljambe, who was a littleupset already by the fact of there being eight to dinner, which was twomore than she approved of. 

Lucia was on Georgie's right, Mrs Colonel as she had decided to callherself, on his left. Next her was Peppino, then Mrs Quantock, thenthe Colonel, then Mrs Rumbold (who resembled a grey hungry mouse), andMr Quantock completed the circle round to Lucia again. Everyone had asmall bunch of violets in the napkin, but Lucia had the largest. Shehad also a footstool. 

"Capital good soup, " remarked Mr Quantock. "Can't get soup like this athome. "

There was dead silence. Why was there never a silence when Olga wasthere, wondered Georgie. It wasn't because she talked, she somehowcaused other people to talk. 

"Tommy Luton hasn't got measles, " said Mrs Weston. "I always said hehadn't, though there are measles about. He came to walk as usual thismorning, and is going to sing in the carols tonight. "

She suddenly stopped. 

Georgie gave an imploring glance at Foljambe, and looked at thechampagne glasses. She took no notice. Lucia turned to Georgie, with anelbow on the table between her and Mr Quantock. 

"And what news, Georgie?" she said. "Peppino and I have been so busythat we haven't seen a soul all day. What have you been doing? Anyplanchette?"

She looked brightly at Mrs Quantock. 

"Yes, dear Daisy, I needn't ask you what you've been doing. Table-turning, I expect. I know how interested you are in psychicalmatters. I should be, too, if only I could be certain that I was notdealing with fraudulent people. "

Georgie felt inclined to give a hollow groan and sink under the tablewhen this awful polemical rhetoric began. To his unbounded surprise MrsQuantock answered most cordially. 

"You are quite right, dear Lucia, " she said. "Would it not be terribleto find that a medium, some dear friend perhaps, whom one implicitlytrusted, was exposed as fraudulent? One sees such exposures in thepaper sometimes. I should be miserable if I thought I had ever sat witha medium who was not honest. They fine the wretches well, though, ifthey are caught, and they deserve it. "

Georgie observed, and couldn't the least understand, a sudden blankexpression cross Robert's face. For the moment he looked as if he weredead but had been beautifully stuffed. But Georgie gave but a cursorythought to that, for the amazing supposition dawned on him that Luciahad not been polemical at all, but was burying instead of chopping withthe hatchet. It was instantly confirmed, for Lucia took her elbow offthe table, and turned to Robert. 

"You and dear Daisy have been very lucky in your spiritualisticexperiences, " she said. "I hear on all sides what a charming medium youhad. Georgie quite lost his heart to her. "

"'Pon my word; she was delightful, " said Robert. 

"Of course she was a dear friend of Daisy's, but one has to be verycareful when one hears of the dreadful exposures, as my wife said, thatoccur sometimes. Fancy finding that a medium whom you believed to beperfectly honest had yards and yards of muslin and a false nose or twoconcealed about her. It would sicken me of the whole business. "

A loud pop announced that Foljambe had allowed them all some champagneat last, but Georgie hardly heard it, for glancing up at DaisyQuantock, he observed that the same dead and stuffed look had come overher face which he had just now noticed on her husband's countenance. Then they both looked up at each other with a glance that to himbristled with significance. An agonised questioning, an imploringpetition for silence seemed to inspire it; it was as if each had madeunwittingly some hopeless _faux pas_. Then they instantly lookedaway from each other again; their necks seemed to crack with therapidity with which they turned them right and left, and they burstinto torrents of speech to the grey hungry mouse and the Colonelrespectively. 

Georgie was utterly mystified: his Riseholme instinct told him thatthere was something below all this, but his Riseholme instinct couldnot supply the faintest clue as to what it was. Both of the Quantocks, it seemed clear, knew something perilous about the Princess, but surelyif Daisy had read in the paper that the Princess had been exposed andfined, she would not have touched on so dangerous a subject. Then thecurious incident about "Todd's News" inevitably occurred to him, butthat would not fit the case, since it was Robert and not Daisy who hadbought that inexplicable number of the yellow print. And then Roberthad hinted at the discovery of yards and yards of muslin and a falsenose. Why had he done that unless he had discovered them, or unless . .. Georgie's eyes grew round with the excitement of the chase . .. UnlessRobert had some other reason to suspect the integrity of the dearfriend, and had said this at hap-hazard. In that case what was Robert'sreason for suspicion? Had _he_, not Daisy, read in the paper ofsome damaging disclosures, and had Daisy (also having reason to suspectthe Princess) alluded to the damaging exposures in the paper by purehap-hazard? Anyhow they had both looked dead and stuffed when the otheralluded to mediumistic frauds, and both had said how lucky their ownexperiences had been. "Oh!"--Georgie almost said it aloud--What ifRobert had seen a damaging exposure in "Todd's News, " and thereforebought up every copy that was to be had? Then, indeed, he would lookdead and stuffed, when Daisy alluded to damaging exposures in thepaper. Had a stray copy escaped him, and did Daisy know? What didRobert know? Had they exquisite secrets from each other?

Lucia was being talked to across him by Mrs Weston, who had also pinneddown the attention of Peppino on the other side of her. At that precisemoment the flood of Mrs Quantock's spate of conversation to the Coloneldried up, and Robert could find nothing more to say to the hungrymouse. Georgie in this backwater of his own thoughts was whirled intothe current again. But before he sank he caught Mrs Quantock's eye andput a question that arose from his exciting backwater. 

"Have you heard from the Princess lately?" he asked. 

Robert's head went round with the same alacrity as he had turned itaway. 

"Oh, yes, " said she. "Two days ago was it, Robert?"

"I heard yesterday, " said Robert firmly. 

Mrs Quantock looked at her husband with an eager encouragingearnestness. 

"So you did!" she said. 'I'm getting jealous. Interesting, dear?"

"Yes, dear, haw, haw, " said Robert, and again their eyes met. 

This time Georgie had no doubts at all. They were playing the same gamenow: they smiled and smirked at each other. They had not been playingthe same game before. Now they recognised that there was a conspiracybetween them. .. . But he was host, his business for the moment was tomake his guests comfortable, and not pry into their inmost bosoms. Sobefore Mrs Weston realised that she had the whole table attending toher, he said:

"I shall get it out of Robert after dinner. And I'll tell you, MrsQuantock. "

"Before Atkinson came to the Colonel, " said Mrs Weston, going onprecisely where she had left off, "and that was five years beforeElizabeth came to me--let me see--was it five or was it four and ahalf?--four and a half we'll say, he had another servant whose name wasAhab Crowe. "

"No!" said Georgie. 

"Yes!" said Mrs Weston, hastily finishing her champagne, for she sawFoljambe coming near--"Yes, Ahab Crowe. He married, too, just likeAtkinson is going to, and that's an odd coincidence in itself. I tellthe Colonel that if Ahab Crowe hadn't married, he would be with himstill, and who can say that he'd have fancied Elizabeth? And if hehadn't, I don't believe that the Colonel and I would ever have--well, I'll leave that alone, and spare my blushes. But that's not what I wassaying. Whom do you think Ahab Crowe married? You can have ten guesseseach, and you would never come right, for it can't be a common name. Itwas Miss Jackdaw. Crowe: Jackdaw. I never heard anything like that, andif you ask the Colonel about it, he'll confirm every word I've said. Boucher, Weston, why that's quite commonplace in comparison, and I'msure that's an event enough for me. "

Lucia gave her silvery laugh. 

"Dear Mrs Weston, " she said, "you must really tell me at once when thehappy day will be. Peppino and I are thinking of going to theRiviera----"

Georgie broke in. 

"You shan't do anything of the kind, " he said. "What's to happen to us?'Oo very selfish, Lucia. "

The conversation broke up again into duets and trios, and Lucia couldhave a private conversation with her host. But half-an-hour ago, soGeorgie reflected, they had all been walking round each other like dogsgoing on tiptoe with their tails very tightly curled, and growlinggently to themselves, aware that a hasty snap, or the breach of thesmallest observance of etiquette, might lead to a general quarrel. Butnow they all had the reward of their icy politenesses: there was nomore ice, except on their plates, and the politeness was not a matterof etiquette. At present, they might be considered a republic, but noone knew what was going to happen after dinner. Not a word had beensaid about the tableaux. 

Lucia dropped her voice as she spoke to him, and put in a good deal ofItalian for fear she might be overheard. 

"_Non cognosce_ anybody?" she asked. "I _tablieri_, I mean. And are we all to sit in the _aula_, while the _salone_ isbeing got ready?"

"_Si_, " said Georgie. "There's a fire. When you go out, keep themthere. I _domestichi_ are making _salone_ ready. "

"_Molto bene_. Then Peppino and you and I just steal away. _Lalampa_ is acting beautifully. We tried it over several times. "

"Everybody's tummin', " said Georgie, varying the cipher. 

"Me so _nervosa!_" said Lucia. "Fancy me doing Brunnhilde beforesinging Brunnhilde. Me can't bear it. "

Georgie knew that Lucia had been thrilled and delighted to know thatOlga so much wanted to come in after dinner and see the tableaux, so hefound it quite easy to induce Lucia to nerve herself up to an ordeal sopassionately desired. Indeed he himself was hardly less excited at thethought of being King Cophetua. 

At that moment, even as the crackers were being handed round, the soundof the carol-singers was heard from outside, and Lucia had to wince, as"Good King Wenceslas" looked out. When the Page and the King sang theirspeeches, the other voices grew piano, so that the effect was of a solovoice accompanied. When the Page sang, Lucia shuddered. 

"That's the small red-haired boy who nearly deafens me in church, " shewhispered to Georgie. "Don't you hope his voice will crack soon?"

She said this very discreetly, so as not to hurt Mrs Rumbold'sfeelings, for she trained the choir. Everyone knew that the king was MrRumbold, and said "Charming" to each other, after he had sung. 

"I liked that boy's voice, too, " said Mrs Weston. "Tommy Luton used tohave a lovely voice, but this one's struck me as better-trained eventhan Tommy Luton's. Great credit to you, Mrs Rumbold. "

The grey hungry mouse suddenly gave a shrill cackle of a laugh, quiteinexplicable. Then Georgie guessed. 

He got up. 

"Now nobody must move, " he said, "because we haven't drunk 'absentfriends' yet. I'm just going out to see that they have a bit of supperin the kitchen before they go on. "

His trembling legs would scarcely carry him to the door, and he ranout. There were half a dozen little choir boys, four men and one tallcloaked woman. .. . 

"Divine!" he said to Olga. "Aunt Jane thought your voice very welltrained. Come in soon, won't you?"

"Yes: all flourishing?"

"Swimming, " said Georgie. "Lucia hoped your voice would crack soon. Butit's all being lovely. "

He explained about food in the kitchen and hurried back to his guests. There was the riddle of the Quantocks to solve: there were the tableauxvivants imminent: there was the little red-haired boy coming in soon. What a Christmas night!

Soon after Georgie's hall began to fill up with guests, and yet not aword was said about tableaux. It grew so full that nobody could havesaid for certain whether Lucia and Peppino were there or not. Olgacertainly was: there was no mistaking that fact. And then Foljambeopened the drawing-room door and sounded a gong. 

The lamp behaved perfectly and an hour later one Brunnhilde was beingextremely kind to the other, as they sat together. "If you really wantto know my view, dear Miss Bracely, " said Lucia, "it's just that. Youmust be Brunnhilde for the time being. Singing, of course, as you say, helps it out: you can express so much by singing. You are so luckythere. I am bound to say I had qualms when Peppino--or was itGeorgie--suggested we should do Brunnhilde-Siegfried. I said it wouldbe so terribly difficult. Slow: it has to be slow, and to keep gesturesslow when you cannot make them mere illustrations of what you aresinging--well, I am sure, it is very kind of you to be so flatteringabout it--but it is difficult to do that. "

"And you thought them all out for yourself?" said Olga. "Marvellous!"

"Ah, if I had ever seen you do it, " said Lucia, "I am sure I shouldhave picked up some hints! And King Cophetua! Won't you give me alittle word for our dear King Cophetua? I was so glad after the strainof Brunnhilde to have my back to the audience. Even then there is thedifficulty of keeping quite still, but I am sure you know that quite aswell as I do, from having played Brunnhilde yourself. Georgie was verymuch impressed by your performance of it. And Mary Queen of Scots now!The shrinking of the flesh, and the resignation of the spirit! That iswhat I tried to express. You must come and help me next time I attemptthis sort of thing again. That will not be quite soon, I am afraid, forPeppino and I am thinking of going to the Riviera for a littleholiday. "

"Oh, but how selfish!" said Olga. "You mustn't do that. "

Lucia gave the silvery laugh. 

"You are all very tiresome about my going to the Riviera, " she said. "But I don't promise that I shall give it up yet. We shall see!Gracious! How late it is. We must have sat very late over dinner. Whywere you not asked to dinner, I wonder! I shall scold Georgie for notasking you. Ah, there is dear Mrs Weston going away. I must saygood-night to her. She would think it very strange if I did not. Colonel Boucher, too! Oh, they are coming this way to save us thetrouble of moving. "

A general move was certainly taking place, not in the direction of thedoor, but to where Olga and Lucia were sitting. 

"It's snowing, " said Piggy excitedly to Olga. "Will you mark myfootsteps well, my page?"

"Piggy, you--you Goosie, " said Olga hurriedly. "Goosie, weren't thetableaux lovely?"

"And the carols, " said Goosie. "I adored the carols. I guessed. Did youguess, Mrs Lucas?"

Olga resorted to the mean trick of treading on Goosie's foot andapologising. That was cowardly because it was sure to come outsometime. And Goosie again trod on dangerous ground by saying that ifthe Page had trod like that, there was no need for any footsteps to bemarked for him. 

It was snowing fast, and Mrs Weston's wheels left a deep track, but inspite of that, Daisy and Robert had not gone fifty yards from the doorwhen they came to a full stop. 

"Now, what is it?" said Daisy. "Out with it. Why did you talk about thediscovery of muslin?"

"I only said that we were fortunate in a medium whom after all youpicked up at a vegetarian restaurant, " said he. "I suppose I mayindulge in general conversation. If it comes to that, why did you talkabout exposure in the papers?"

"General conversation, " said Mrs Quantock all in one word. "So that'sall, is it?"

"Yes, " said Robert, "you may know something, and--"

"Now don't put it all on me, " said Daisy. "If you want to know what Ithink, it is that you've got some secret. "

"And if you want to know what I think, " he retorted, "it is that I knowyou have. "

Daisy hesitated a moment, the snow was white on her shoulder and sheshook her cloak. 

"I hate concealment, " she said. "I found yards and yards of muslin anda pair of Amadeo's eyebrows in that woman's bedroom the very day shewent away. "

"And she was fined last Thursday for holding a seance at which adetective was present, " said Robert. "15 Gerard Street. He seizedAmadeo or Cardinal Newman by the throat, and it was that woman. "

She looked hastily round. 

"When you thought that the chimney was on fire, I was burning muslin, "she said. 

"When you thought the chimney was on fire, I was burning every copy of'Todd's News, '" said he. "Also a copy of the 'Daily Mirror, ' whichcontained the case. It belonged to the Colonel. I stole it. "

She put her hand through his arm. 

"Let's get home, " she said. "We must talk it over. No one knows oneword except you and me?"

"Not one, my dear, " said Robert cordially. "But there are suspicions. Georgie suspects, for instance. He saw me buy all the copies of 'Todd'sNews, ' at least he was hanging about. Tonight he was clearly on thetrack of something, though he gave us a very tolerable dinner. "

They went into Robert's study: it was cold, but neither felt it, forthey glowed with excitement and enterprise. 

"That was a wonderful stroke of yours, Robert, " said she. "It wasmasterly: it saved the situation. The 'Daily Mirror, ' too: how rightyou were to steal it. A horrid paper I always thought. Yes, Georgiesuspects something, but luckily he doesn't know what he suspects. "

"That's why we both said we had just heard from that woman, " saidRobert. 

"Of course. You haven't got a copy of 'Todd's News, ' have you?"

"No: at least I burned every page of the police reports, " said he. "Itwas safer. "

"Quite so. I cannot show you Amadeo's eyebrows for the same reason. Northe muslin. Lovely muslin, my dear: yards of it. Now what we must do isthis: we must continue to be interested in psychical things; we mustn'tdrop them, or seem to be put off them. I wish now I had taken you intomy confidence at the beginning and told you about Amadeo's eyebrows. "

"My dear, you acted for the best, " said he. "So did I when I didn'ttell you about 'Todd's News. ' Secrecy even from each other was moreprudent, until it became impossible. And I think we should be wise tolet it be understood that we hear from the Princess now and then. Perhaps in a few months she might even visit us again. It--it would behumorous to be behind the scenes, so to speak, and observe thecredulity of the others. "

Daisy broke into a broad grin. 

"I will certainly ask dear Lucia to a seance, if we do, " she said. "Dear me! How late it is: there was such a long wait between thetableaux. But we must keep our eyes on Georgie, and be careful how weanswer his impertinent questions. He is sure to ask some. About gettingthat woman down again, Robert. It might be fool-hardy, for we've had anescape, and shouldn't put our heads into the same noose again. On theother hand, it would disarm suspicion for ever, if, after a few months, I asked her to spend a few days of holiday here. You said it was a fineonly, not imprisonment?"

The week was a busy one: Georgie in particular never had a moment tohimself. The Hurst, so lately a desert, suddenly began to rejoice withjoy and singing and broke out into all manner of edifying gaieties. Lucia, capricious queen, quite forgot all the vitriolic things she hadsaid to him, and gave him to understand that he was just as high infavour as ever before, and he was as busy with his duties as ever hehad been. Whether he would have fallen into his old place so readily ifhe had been a free agent, was a question that did not arise, for thoughit was Lucia who employed him, it was Olga who drove him there. But hehad his consolation, for Lucia's noble forgiveness of all thedisloyalties against her, included Olga's as well, and out of all thedinners and music parties, and recitations from Peppino's new book ofprose poems which was already in proof, and was read to selectaudiences from end to end, there was none to which Olga was not bidden, and none at which she failed to appear. Lucia even overlooked the factthat she had sung in the carols on Christmas night, though she hadherself declared that it was the voice of the red-haired boy which wasso peculiarly painful to her. Georgie's picture of her (she never knewthat Olga had really commissioned it) hung at the side of the piano inthe music room, where the print of Beethoven had hung before, and itgave her the acutest gratification. It represented her sitting, witheyes cast down at her piano, and was indeed much on the same scheme asthe yet unfinished one of Olga, which had been postponed in its favour, but there was no time for Georgie to think out another position, andhis hand was in with regard to the perspective of pianos. So there ithung with its title, "The Moonlight Sonata, " painted in gilt letters onits frame, and Lucia, though she continued to say that he had made herfar, far too young, could not but consider that he had caught herexpression exactly. .. . 

So Riseholme flocked back to The Hurst like sheep that have beenastray, for it was certain to find Olga there, even as it had turnedthere, deeply breathing, to the classes of the Guru. It had to sitthrough the prose-poems of Peppino, it had to listen to the old, oldtunes and sigh at the end, but Olga mingled her sighs with theirs, andoften after a suitable pause Lucia would say winningly to Olga:

"One little song, Miss Bracely. Just a stanza? Or am I trespassing toomuch on your good-nature? Where is your accompanist? I declare I amjealous of him: I shall pop into his place some day! Georgino, MissBracely is going to sing us something. Is not that a treat? Sh-sh, please, ladies and gentlemen. "

And she rustled to her place, and sat with the farthest-away expressionever seen on mortal face, while she trespassed on Miss Bracely'sgood-nature. 

Then Georgie had the other picture to finish, which he hoped to getready in time to be a New Year's present, since Olga had insisted onLucia's being done first. He had certainly secured an admirablelikeness of her, and there was in it just all that his stippled, fussyrepresentation of Lucia lacked. "Bleak December" and "Yellow Daffodils"and the rest of the series lacked it, too: for once he had donesomething in the doing of which he had forgotten himself. It was by nomeans a work of genius, for Georgie was not possessed of one grain ofthat, and the talent it displayed was by no means of a high order, butit had something of the naturalness of a flower that grew from theearth which nourished it. 

On the last day of the year he was putting a few final touches to it, little high reflected lights on the black keys, little blacknesses ofshadow in the moulding of the panel behind his hand. He had finishedwith her altogether, and now she sat in the window-seat, looking out, and playing with the blind-tassel. He had been so much absorbed in hiswork that he had scarcely noticed that she had been rather unusuallysilent. 

"I've got a piece of news for you, " she said at length. 

Georgie held his breath, as he drew a very thin line of body-colouralong the edge of Ab. 

"No! What is it?" he said. "Is it about the Princess?"

Olga seemed to hail this as a diversion. 

"Ah, let's talk about that for a minute, " she said. "What you ought tohave done was to order another copy of 'Todd's News' at once. "

"I know I ought, but I couldn't get one when I thought of itafterwards. That was tarsome. But I feel sure there was something abouther in it. "

"And you can't get anything out of the Quantocks?"

"No, though I've laid plenty of traps for them. There's anunderstanding between them now. They both know something. When I lay atrap, it isn't any use: they look at the trap, and then they look ateach other afterwards. "

"What sort of traps?"

"Oh, anything. I say suddenly, 'What a bore it is that there are somany frauds among mediums, especially paid ones. ' You see, I don'tbelieve for a moment that these seances were held for nothing, thoughwe didn't pay for going to them. And then Robert says that he wouldnever trust a paid medium, and she looks at him approvingly, and says'Dear Princess'! The other day--it was a very good trap--I said, 'Is ittrue that the Princess is coming to stay with Lady Ambermere?' Itwasn't a lie: I only asked. "

"And then?" said Olga. 

"Robert gave an awful twitch, not a jump exactly, but a twitch. But shewas on the spot and said, 'Ah, that would be nice. I wonder if it'strue. The Princess didn't mention it in her last letter. ' And then helooked at her approvingly. There is something there, no one shallconvince me otherwise. "

Olga suddenly burst out laughing. 

"What's the matter?" asked Georgie. 

"Oh, it's all so delicious!" she said. "I never knew before howterribly interesting little things were. It's all wildly exciting, andthere are fifty things going on just as exciting. Is it all of you whotake such a tremendous interest in them that makes them so absorbing, or is it that they are absorbing in themselves, and ordinary dullpeople, not Riseholmites, don't see how exciting they are? TommyLuton's measles: the Quantocks' secret: Elizabeth's lover! And to thinkthat I believed I was coming to a backwater. "

Georgie held up his picture and half closed his eyes. "I believe it'sfinished, " he said. "I shall have it framed, and put it in mydrawing-room. "

This was a trap, and Olga fell into it. 

"Yes, it will look nice there, " she said. "Really, Georgie, it is veryclever of you. "

He began washing his brushes. 

"And what was your news?" he said. 

She got up from her seat. 

"I forgot all about it, with talking of the Quantocks' secret, " shesaid. "That just shows you: I completely forgot, Georgie. I've justaccepted an offer to sing in America, a four months' engagement, atfifty thousand million pounds a night. A penny less, and I wouldn'thave gone. But I really can't refuse. It's all been very sudden, butthey want to produce Lucretia there before it appears in England. ThenI come back, and sing in London all the summer. Oh, me!"

There was dead silence, while Georgie dried his brushes. 

"When do you go?" he asked. 

"In about a fortnight. "

"Oh, " said he. 

She moved down the room to the piano and shut it without speaking, while he folded the paper round his finished picture. 

"Why don't you come, too?" she said at length. "It would do you no endof good, for you would get out of this darling two-penny place whichwill all go inside a nut-shell. There are big things in the world, Georgie: seas, continents, people, movements, emotions. I told myGeorgie I was going to ask you, and he thoroughly approves. We bothlike you, you know. It would be lovely if you would come. Come for acouple of months, anyhow: of course you'll be our guest, please. "

The world, at that moment, had grown absolutely black to him, and itwas by that that he knew who, for him, was the light of it. He shookhis head. 

"Why can't you come?" she said. 

He looked at her straight in the face. 

"Because I adore you, " he said. 

Chapter SIXTEEN

The glad word went round Riseholme one March morning that the earliestflower in Perdita's garden was in bloom. The day was one of thoseglories of the English spring-time, with large white clouds blownacross wide spaces of blue sky by the southwest wind, and with swiftshadows that bowled across the green below them. Parliament was in fullconclave that day, and in the elms the rooks were busy. 

An awful flatness had succeeded Olga's departure. Riseholme naturallytook a good deal of credit for the tremendous success which hadattended the production of Lucretia, since it so rightly consideredthat the real cradle of the opera was here, where she had tried it overfor the first time. Lucia seemed to remember it better than anybody, for she remembered all sorts of things which no one else had thefaintest recollection of: how she had discussed music with SignorCortese, and he had asked her where she had her musical training. Sucha treat to talk Italian with a Roman--lingua Toscana in boccaRomana--and what a wonderful evening it was. Poor Mrs Colonelrecollected very little of this, but Lucia had long been aware thather memory was going sadly. After producing Lucretia in New York, Olga had appeared in some of her old roles, notably in the part ofBrunnhilde, and Lucia was very reminiscent of that charming party ofChristmas Day at dear Georgino's, when they had the tableaux. Dear Olgawas so simple and unspoiled: she had come to Lucia afterwards, and askedher to tell her how she had worked out her scheme of gestures in theawakening, and Lucia had been very glad, very glad indeed to give hera few hints. In fact, Lucia was quite herself: it was only her subjectswhom it had been a little hard to stir up. Georgie in particular hadbeen very listless and dull, and Lucia, for all her ingenuity, was at acomplete loss to find a reason for it. 

But today the warm inflowing tide of spring seemed to renovate themuddy flats, setting the weeds, that had lain dank and dispirited, a-floating again on the return of the water. No one could quite resistthe magic of the season, and Georgie, who had intended out of merepoliteness to go to see the earliest of Perdita's stupid flowers(having been warned of its epiphany by telephone from The Hurst) found, when he set foot outside his house on that warm windy morning, that itwould be interesting to stroll across the green first, and see if therewas any news. All the news he had really cared about for the last twomonths was news from America, of which he had a small packet done up ina pink riband. 

After getting rid of Piggy, he went to the newspaper shop, to get his"Times, " which most unaccountably had not arrived, and the sight of"Todd's News" in its yellow cover stirred his drowsy interest. Not oneatom of light had ever been thrown on that extraordinary occurrencewhen Robert bought the whole issue, and though Olga never failed toenquire, he had not been able to give her the slightest additionalinformation. Occasionally he set a languid trap for one of theQuantocks, but they never by any chance fell into it. The whole affairmust be classed with problems like the origin of evil, among theinsoluble mysteries of life. 

It was possible to get letters by the second post an hour earlier thanthe house-to-house delivery by calling at the office, and as Georgiewas waiting for his "Times, " Mrs Quantock came hurrying out of thepost-office with a small packet in her hands, which she was opening asshe walked. She was so much absorbed by this that she did not seeGeorgie at all, though she passed quite close to him, and soon aftershed a registered envelope. At that the "old familiar glamour" began tosteal over him again, and he found himself wondering with intensitywhat it contained. 

She was now some hundred yards in front of him, walking in thedirection of The Hurst, and there could be no doubt that she, too, wason her way to see Perdita's first flower. He followed her going morebriskly than she and began to catch her up. Soon (this time byaccident, not in the manner in which, through eagerness she haduntidily cast the registered envelope away) she dropped a small paper, and Georgie picked it up, meaning to give it her. It had printed matteron the front of it, and was clearly a small pamphlet. He could notpossibly help seeing what that printed matter was, for it was incapital letters:

INCREASE YOUR HEIGHT

Georgie quickened his step, and the old familiar glamour brightenedround him. As soon as he got within speaking distance, he called toher, and turning round, "like a guilty thing surprised, " a little boxflew out of her hand. As it fell the lid came off, and there wasscattered on the green grass a multitude of red lozenges. She gave acry of dismay. 

"Oh! Mr Georgie, how you startled me" she said. "Do help me to pickthem up. Do you think the damp will have hurt them? Any news? I was sowrapped up in what I was doing that I've spoken to nobody. "

Georgie assisted in the recovery of the red lozenges. 

"You dropped this as you walked, " he said. "I picked it up in order togive it you. "

"Ah, that is kind, and did you see what it was?"

"I couldn't help seeing the outside, " said Georgie. 

She looked at him a moment, wondering what was the most prudent course. If she said nothing more, he would probably tell everybody. .. . 

"Well, then I shall let you into the whole secret, " she said. "It's themost wonderful invention, and increases your height, whatever your ageis, from two to six inches. Fancy! There are some exercises you have todo, rather like those Yoga ones, every morning, and you eat threelozenges a day. Quite harmless they are, and then you soon begin toshoot up. It sounds incredible, doesn't it? but there are so manytestimonials that I can't doubt it is genuine. Here's one of a man whogrew six inches. I saw it advertised in some paper, and sent for it. Only a guinea! What fun when Robert begins to see that I am taller thanhe is! But now not a word! Don't tell dear Lucia whatever you do. Sheis half a head taller than I, and it would be no fun if everybody grewfrom two to six inches. You may write for them, and I'll give you theaddress, but you must tell nobody. "

"Too wonderful" said Georgie. "I _shall_ watch you. Here we are. Look, there's Perdita's flower. What a beauty!"

It was not necessary to press the mermaid's tail, for Lucia had seenthem from the music-room, and they heard her high heels clacking overthe polished floor of the hall. 

"Listen! No more need of high heels!" said Mrs Quantock. "And I've gotsomething else to tell you. Lucia may hear that. Ah, dear Lucia, what awonderful Perdita-blossom!"

"Is it not?" said Lucia, blowing kisses to Georgie, and giving them toDaisy. "That shows spring is here. _Primavera!_ And Peppino's_piccolo libro_ comes out today. I should not be a bit surprisedif you each of you found a copy of it arrived before evening. Glorious!It's glorious!"

Surely it was no wonder that Georgie's blood began to canter along hisarteries again. There had been very pleasant exciting years before now, requiring for their fuel no more than was ready at this moment to keepup the fire. Mrs Quantock was on tip-toe, so to speak, to increase herheight, Peppino was just delivered of a second of these vellum volumeswith seals and tapes outside, Mrs Weston was going to become MrsColonel at the end of the week, and at the same hour and churchElizabeth was going to become Mrs Atkinson. Had these things no savour, because----

"How is 'oo?" said Georgie, with a sudden flush of the spring-timethrough him. "Me vewy well, sank 'oo and me so want to read Peppino'sbookie-bookie. "

"'Oo come in, " said Lucia. "Evewybody come in. Now, who's got ickle bitnews?"

Mrs Quantock had been walking on her toes all across the hall, inanticipation of the happy time when she would be from two to six inchestaller. As the animated pamphlet said, the world assumed a totallydifferent aspect when you were even two inches taller. She was quitesorry to sit down. 

"Is next week very full with you, dear Lucia?" she asked. 

Lucia pressed her finger to her forehead. 

"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, " she began. "No, not Tuesday, I am doingnothing on Tuesday. You want to be the death of me between you. Why?"

"I hope that my dear friend, Princess Popoffski, will be staying withme" said Mrs Quantock. "Do get over your prejudice againstspiritualism, and give it a chance. Come to a seance on Tuesday. You, too, of course, Georgie: I know better than to invite Lucia withoutyou. "

Lucia put on the far-away look which she reserved for the masterpiecesof music, and for Georgie's hopeless devotion. 

"Lovely! That will be lovely!" she said. "Most interesting! I shallcome with a perfectly open mind. "

Georgie scarcely lamented the annihilation of a mystery. He must surelyhave imagined the mystery, for it all collapsed like a card-house, ifthe Princess was coming back. The seances had been most remarkable, too; and he would have to get out his planchette again. 

"And what's going to happen on Wednesday?" he asked Lucia. "All I knowis that I've not been asked. Me's offended. "

"Ickle surprise, " said Lucia. "You're not engaged that evening, areyou? Nor you, dear Daisy? That's lovely. Eight o'clock? No, I think aquarter to. That will give us more time. I shan't tell you what it is. "

Mrs Quantock, grasping her lozenges, wondered how much taller she wouldbe by then. As Lucia played to them, she drew a lozenge out of the boxand put it into her mouth, in order to begin growing at once. It tastedrather bitter, but not unpleasantly so.