RIVALS
MAJOR URQUHART went off to Lovelace's Cottage.
Yes, Mrs. Norman was in, the maid told him. Would he come in and wait? She was upstairs, but would be down directly.
So in he came, and scowled when he saw upon the mantelpiece a cabinet photo of Austin, in his pink coat, on his favourite hunter.
"Insolent puppy!" was his muttered imprecation.
In about ten minutes' time Mrs. Norman appeared. She was clad in a russet-brown velvet tea gown; a cluster of tea roses was fastened in some old point lace at her breast. Her face was flushed with her riding, the little curls about her forehead still damp with the rain. The Major had never seen her look more beautiful.
"How kind of you, Major!" she said, extending one white hand, and looking up at him with pleased eyes. "You see, I have not come to grief, as you prophesied, but I did wish you had been with us. We had such a splendid run. May I tell you about it, or would you rather not? Will it bore you?"
"Anything that interests you interests me," responded the Major gallantly.
"Ah, that is your unselfishness! When I think of what it must be to you to be deprived of the sport you once loved so much, it makes me marvel at your cheeriness. And instead of sitting still and developing into an irritable whining gouty invalid, you choose a hobby which not only employs your odd time, but is of such inestimable benefit to your fellow-creatures. And you're always busy, always contented. I often think you are not half appreciated by your relatives, but, as we were saying the other day, three in family is rather an awkward number—one invariably goes to the wall. And, of course, Miss Urquhart is wrapped up in her father, and he in her. It is only natural! Well, I am digressing. Now I will describe our run."
Mrs. Norman was a good reconteuse. Nothing escaped her quick observation; she had humour, and knew how to seize the humorous points of the hunting field. The Major listened and chuckled and laughed till the tears came into his eyes. Then he broke in with some of his hunting reminiscences, and Mrs. Norman was a woman who could take interruption with equanimity, and be as interested in his stories as in her own.