“All right, then, we’ll tackle her together.”
Roland was certain, when they arrived, that the idea of employing his father as a shield was in the nature of an inspiration. April received him without a smile; she did not even shake hands with him. Fortunately, in the effusion of Mrs. Curtis’s welcome, this omission was not noticed.
“I’m so glad you have come, both of you. April told me, Roland, that you had been round to see her this morning, and I must say I began to feel afraid that I should never see you again. I thought you would only want to come round when you could have April all to yourself. It would have been such a disappointment to me if you had; I should have so missed our little evening talks. As I was saying to my husband only yesterday, ‘I don’t know what we should do without the Whatelys,’ and he agreed with me. You know, Mr. Whately, there are some people whom we quite like, but whom we shouldn’t miss in the least if they went away and we never saw them again, and there are others who would leave a real gap. It’s funny, isn’t it? And it’s so nice, now, to think that Roland and April—though we mustn’t talk like that, must we, or they’ll begin to think they’re engaged. And we couldn’t allow that, could we, Mr. Whately?”
His body rattled with a deep chuckle. Out of the corner of his eye Roland flung a glance at April, to see what effect this wind of words was having on her, but her face was turned from him.
Mrs. Curtis then proceeded to speak of Arthur and of the letter she had received from him by the evening post. “He says—now what is it that he says? Ah, yes, here it is; he says, ‘As I am too old for the Junior games, I have been moved into the Senior League.’ Now that’s very satisfactory, isn’t it, Mr. Whately, that he should be in the Senior League? I always said he would be good at games, and April too, Mr. Whately; she would have been very good at games if she had played them. When they used to play cricket in the nursery she used to hit at the ball so well, with her arms, you know. She would have been very good, but she hasn’t had the time and they don’t go in for games very much at St. Stephen’s. Now what do you think of that new frock of hers? I got it so cheap—you can’t think how cheaply I got it. And then I got Miss Smithers to make it up for her, and April looks so pretty in it; don’t you think so, Mr. Whately?”
“Charming, of course, Mrs. Curtis, absolutely charming!”
“I thought you’d like it. And I’m sure Roland does too, though he would be too shy to own to it. You know, Mr. Whately, I felt like telling her when she put it on that Roland would have to be very careful or he would find a lot of rivals when he came back from Brussels.”
It was more than April could bear. She had endured a great deal that day and this was the final ignominy.
“How can you, mother?” she said. “How can you?” and jumping to her feet, she ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
The sudden crash reverberated through the awkward silence; then came the soft caressing voice of Mrs. Curtis: “I’m so sorry, Mr. Whately; I don’t know what April can be thinking of. But she’s like that sometimes. These young people are so difficult; one doesn’t know where to find them. Yes, that’s right, Roland, run and see if you can’t console her.”