I have flung Jeremy Taylor into a corner-he has been sort of winking at me all the afternoon-and the jujubes after him, nasty, sticky abominations!

CHAPTER XVII

I Unfortunately Knock off a Piece of Angela's Hair, and She is Extremely Annoyed

HAT was yesterday. It was yesterday I de

TH

scended from my rose-tinted boudoir and in

trailing, silken garments floated into the diningroom as bright and radiant as a green bay tree, which was my due; and to-day I am picking onions, and feel like a blighted weeping willow. To say that I gave them a shock would be using the mildest and most restrained of language. Even Dibbs sat up on his hind legs and wailed, in the same way that emotional people weep when they see a beautiful picture or hear divine music. Dibbs is peculiarly sensitive. Angela almost sat up on her hind legs, only Mr. Inderwick's presence restrained her. I never realized before that one's eyes could be so prominent unless suffering from heart disease. Mother put two shrimps into her second cup of tea and several lumps of sugar on to her plate. Mr. Inderwick was the only controlled member of the party. He drew up an armchair to the fire for me, and, thanking him gracefully, I leaned back

against the one hard cushion and green wool antimacassar, and gave a little sigh.

I did not give them time to speak, it would have been fatal. My backbone was of steel, but it was vulnerable; they mustn't get one home. I told mother I would have one cup of tea, as she was so pressing. I thanked Angela for the jujubes, which had relieved me considerably. I inquired sympathetically after Mr. Inderwick's ankle, and I gathered Dibbs, who was dirty, on to my knee, with a fine disregard for the delicate and priceless-to me-texture of my gown. I was accustomed to tea-gowns billowing round me like lemon sponge. It was annoying that Dibbs should sniff at the lemon sponge as though he had not met it before, obliging me to restrain him with gentle though forceful hand, but perhaps it was not observed.

It was a strain, too, to one's mental faculties keeping an eye upon Angela. She was gathering together her resources; three times she drew breath, and three times, with unerring skill, I parried that breath. I took the sentences out of her mouth, leaving her gaping. I chattered, I talked, I laughed, I scintillated; my conversation would have rivalled Horace Walpole's. Mr. Inderwick, without an invitation, drew his chair nearer to mine, and his staring was more protracted than usual. Mother, after ringing the bell for Rose to remove the tea things, took up her knitting, as is her customary habit, but did not knit. The four needles lay inert on her lap; her lips were parted, and her eyes

rested upon my face as though it were strange to her. Only Angela remained at the table, fixed, immovable, awaiting her opportunity. I did not see her with my eyes—I was talking to Mr. Inderwick-but her presence filled the entire room-that waiting, ominous, silent figure. It oppressed me, but I rattled on. It seemed to suffocate me, and my voice faltered; but still I struggled gamely, and then Mr. Inderwick rose to go. I was saved. My gratitude to him was unbounded. I smiled up at him, and insisted upon going to the door. A breath of fresh air would do me good, I said, and swept out into the hall before him. He closed the dining-room door behind him, probably fearing the draughts for mother, and was a long time in putting on his coat. I felt that Rose was peeping again, and began to feel

nervous.

"Is your ankle quite well?" I asked jerkily, forgetting that I had already put this question to him twice. His answer was quite beside the mark—

"When will you come for another drive?"

"Never," I replied quickly, beginning to open the hall door.

He closed it again quietly.

"I am not going yet, I have lost my gloves. Why won't you come ?"

"I can't."

"Were they angry with you? I wanted to come the following day, but the doctor wouldn't allow it." "You are not looking for your gloves," I observed.

"Never mind them." He spoke impatiently. "Were they angry with you?"

"A little."

"I am sorry," he said, and his face went quite gentle and soft.

"Oh, I didn't mind," I remarked hurriedly. I was convinced Rose was peeping, and he was looking at me in a way that made me wish he wouldn't.

66

'What were your gloves like, and where did you put them?" I inquired brilliantly, again opening the door.

This time he closed it without speaking, and stood as though lost in thought. I was sure the dining-room door opened an inch, and I felt desperate.

"Mr. Inderwick, are you going to take up your abode at Shady Oak? It is a little cold here, and my gown is thin."

"I wish I could."

I was unprepared for such an answer, and he spoke with such earnestness that my cheeks went hot and my heart jumped. Supposing they had heard him. I made another hurried movement toward the door, but he forestalled me.

"I never saw any one so anxious to get rid of a guest. Are you usually as rude to your friends ?" "I have a cold," I replied lamely.

"Is that why you wear a thin silk gown?"

"It is lined and quite warm."

"It is very pretty.”