[CHAPTER XII]
A TENNIS PARTY
UNDER the "ancestral trees" of the Park a good many ladies were assembled, a few black coats and lighter masculine costumes being sprinkled among them. The feminine element commonly predominates in a country spot, such as Craye.
They were better off than usual at the Park, since both the sons of the house were present—Mervyn, handsome, and full of talk; Edred, not less handsome, perhaps, but grave and silent.
Two sets of tennis-players were already in full swing when Margot and Dolly arrived. Mrs. Claughton swept forward to meet them, her large frame imposing in puce satin and black lace. Mr. Claughton was not so tall as his wife, but he equalled her in breadth; and by a certain patronising assurance of manner, he more than made up for lack of height.
"Fine afternoon! Seasonable weather, very!" he declared, casting looks of admiration upon Margot's graceful figure and Dolly's "golden locks." "Most glad to see you both. Quite a gratification."
"But imprudent of Margot," chimed in Mrs. Claughton. "I heard this morning how unwell you were. How do you do, Dolly. Margot is looking very pale. I wonder Isabel allowed her to venture."
"Isabel isn't a household tyrant," said Dolly.
"Margot ought to be old enough to judge for herself, you mean. But some people never are old enough. Some people never learn prudence. I am afraid Margot is one of them. Emmeline—imagine Margot coming to-day."
The grave-mannered Emmeline had appeared behind her mother. Emmeline always did her duty loyally on these occasions; but she did it as a duty, with no sign of enjoyment. Nothing was neglected, nobody was forgotten, yet all were conscious that Emmeline Claughton would have preferred their absence to their presence. She could not relax, could not open out, could not be simple and bright and conversational.