“He will be home soon for the Easter holidays. You must let him come and stay with us.”
“It’s very kind of you, dear. Certainly he shall come, part of the time. I can’t bear to part with him—especially at first. Yes—at first I feel I never want him to leave me again! However, he enjoys himself so much here that I like to send him to you towards the end. He looks upon Bertha quite like a playmate,” she said to Madeline. Something about Madeline reminded her of someone she had met.
“I was at a dinner-party last night where I met a young man I saw here once, who took you in to dinner. He knows Percy—he was at Balliol with Percy—a Mr. Denison—Mr. Rupert Denison. He seemed inclined to be rather intellectual. He talked to me a great deal about something—I forget what; but I know it was some subject: something that Percy once had to pass an examination in. … I can’t remember what it was. I used to know his mother; Mrs. Denison—a charming woman! I’m afraid though she didn’t leave him very well off. I wonder how he manages to make two ends meet?”
“He manages all right; he makes them lap over, I should think. Who did he take to dinner?” Bertha asked this in Madeline’s interest.
“Oh, a girl I don’t like at all, whom I often see about. She’s always everywhere. I daresay you know her, a Miss Chivvey, a Miss Moona Chivvey—a good family, the Chivveys of Warwickshire. But she’s rather artistic-looking.” (Lady Kellynch lowered her voice as if she were saying something improper:) “She has untidy hair and green beads round her neck. I don’t like her—I don’t like her style at all.”
“I’ve heard him mention her,” said Madeline.
“He talked to her a good deal in the evening, and he gave me the impression that he was giving her some sort of lesson—a lecture on architecture, or something. Well, dear, as Percy won’t be in yet, I think I’d better go. I have a round of visits to pay.”
“Percy is going to write to you. He wants you to go to a concert with him. He particularly wants you to go.”
Lady Kellynch brightened up. “Dear boy, does he? Of course I’ll go. Well, good-bye, darling.”
She swept from the room with the queenly grace and dignity that always seemed a little out of proportion to the occasion—one expected her to make a court curtsy, and go out backwards.