Cicely scouted the idea. "Men are always in such a hurry," she said. "Dick, you ought to marry and have babies of your own."
"Ah, well! perhaps I shall some day," said Dick. "Now I must be pushing on, and you oughtn't to keep the horses waiting, Sis. Good-bye, little chap."
"Aren't you coming back to Kencote?" Cicely asked.
"Not just yet. Going to hack a few more miles. I haven't been on a horse for three weeks."
So Cicely got into her carriage and Dick's horse was brought round, and they went off in different directions.
Cicely picked up her mother-in-law at her house just outside the park. Mrs. Graham was waiting for her at her garden gate, in company with a deerhound, a spaniel, and an Irish terrier. She had on a coat and skirt of thick tweed, and a cloth hat with a cock's feather.
"I suppose there won't be a tea-party," she said, as she got into the carriage. "I did intend to put on smart clothes, but I found I couldn't be bothered when the time came. They must take me in my rags or not at all. You look smart enough, my girl."
"If I had your figure," said Cicely, "I should never want to wear anything but country clothes."
"Ah! now that's very nice of you," said Mrs. Graham. "I do wear well for fifty-three, and I'm not going to deny it. My face is a bit battered, of course. I must expect that, riding and tramping about in all weathers. But I'm as fit as if I were thirty years younger, and I don't know what more you can ask of life—unless it's to have your own people round you instead of a pack of molly-coddles."
Cicely laughed. Jim Graham had let Mountfield for two years after their marriage to a rich and childless couple, who spent most of their time in working at embroidery, and motoring about the country in a closed-in car, for neither of which pursuits Mrs. Graham had found it in her heart to forgive them.