Mrs. Pemberton seemed so to enjoy this kind of treatment that the Vicar took a leaf out of Father Brill's book and became a good deal more familiar, on the same lines, than he had ever thought of being in such a house as that, or at least with the older inhabitants of such a house. Perhaps he kept rather too much to the same lines. He asked Mrs. Pemberton whether she wore a wig, which as a matter of fact she did, though he was far from suspecting it; and as religious matters were being treated in a light vein, to which he had no objection, as long as anything like profanity was excluded, he begged her, if she should ever change her mind about confession, to confess to him and not to Father Brill. "I assure you, my dear lady," he said—Father Brill had once or twice called her 'my dear lady'—"that I shan't breathe a word of what you say to anybody—and I'm quite ready to be agreeably shocked."
Father Brill's eyebrows met ominously over his huge nose, and Mrs. Pemberton looked in some surprise at the Vicar, and then took a glance at his wine-glass. But at that moment Mr. Pemberton called out something to her from the foot of the table, and Effie Pemberton who was sitting on the right of the Vicar engaged him in talk. Otherwise he would have exploited this vein still further, for he felt he was making rather a success of it.
His wife, meantime, was enjoying herself immensely. The young people were all laughing and talking gaily, and she was not left out of it. Old Mr. Pemberton addressed long narratives to her, but occasionally broke off to shout out: "Eh, what's that? I didn't hear that," if an extra burst of laughter engaged his attention; and after such an interruption he would usually address himself next to Caroline, who was sitting on the other side of him. So Mrs. Mercer found that she need not devote herself entirely to him, and laughed away as merrily as any of them, if there was anything to laugh at, which there generally was.
They really were nice, these Pembertons, in spite of their loudness and their horsey tastes. Kate sat next to her, and looked very handsome, with her abundant hair beautifully dressed and her white firm flesh liberally displayed. She was some years younger than her sisters, and had not yet acquired that almost weather-beaten look which is apt to overtake young country women who spend the greater part of their waking hours out of doors, and was already beginning to show in Nora and Effie. She had a great deal to say to Bertie's friend who sat on the other side of her, but she by no means neglected Mrs. Mercer, and whenever conversation was general brought her into it. She also occasionally talked to her alone, when Mr. Pemberton was engaged with Caroline.
"I like that little Waters girl, or whatever her name is," she said on one of these occasions, looking across to where Mollie was sitting between Nora and Bertie Pemberton. "She's quiet, but she does know how to laugh. Quite pretty too."
"Oh, she's a dear," said Mrs. Mercer enthusiastically. "We are awfully fond of her. I don't know what my husband would do without her."
Kate laughed. "That's what Bertie seems to be feeling," she said. "He spotted her when we went over to Abington the other day. We rather chaffed him about it, as the Grafton girls are so extraordinarily pretty, and we hadn't taken so much notice of her ourselves. But he insisted upon her being sent for to-night, and made Nora write. I'm glad she came. We all three make pals of men, but we like girls too. I hope we shall see more of her. I expect we shall, if Bertie has anything to do with it."
She turned to her other neighbour, and Mrs. Mercer looked across to where Bertie Pemberton was entertaining Mollie with some vivacious narrative that was making her laugh freely. It was quite true that she could laugh, and looked very pretty as she did so. Mrs. Mercer had had no idea how pretty she really was. Her generous heart gave a jump of pleasure as she saw how Bertie Pemberton was addressing himself to her. Supposing—only supposing—that that should happen! How perfectly splendid for dear little Mollie, who had had such a dull life, but was worth any sort of life that could be given her. And how pleased her husband would be! They would have something to talk about when they went home.
They played round games at a table in the drawing-room—all of them, including Mr. Pemberton, who did not like to be left out of anything—to an accompaniment of much shouting and laughter. The two cars were kept waiting for half an hour before the guests departed, and they returned as they had come. The Vicar had wanted Mollie to accompany him and his wife, but as she had hesitated, with a glance at Beatrix, which plainly showed her own wishes in the matter, Caroline had put in her claim and settled it for her.
So the Vicar started on the homeward drive not in the best of humours, especially as the other car was being kept back while the three girls were still laughing and talking as if they were going to stay all night, although he and his wife had been permitted to leave when they were ready to do so.