The first day's racing came to an end. A great deal of money was lost and won; a great many hopes had been raised and shattered. Brian Salwey's Baber, splendidly ridden by himself, won the welter race, but in the supreme event of the day—"the cup,"—the favourite was hopelessly beaten—alas! the celebrated V.C. was not even placed.
Kind-hearted Mrs. Lepell had compassion on the original "V.C." and drove her home with her in the victoria (in order to save her from her relatives), and Brian Salwey occupied the front seat. They were a somewhat silent trio, but as they passed the Chandos family in the wagonette, their chattering resembled nothing so much as a party of excited jackdaws!
The next day Verona did not attend the meeting; Pussy was chaperoned by her sister Blanche, and Dominga was the triumphant companion of Mrs. Barwell. Mrs. Chandos was far too much occupied with preparations for Sunday's tiffin to spare time for any relaxation. The entertainment was to be on a sumptuous scale; she went into the bazaar herself, and bought candied fruit, pâté de fois gras, and a fine Europe ham! (in spite of her chaffering, the latter was an expensive item); it was all to find favour in the eyes of Verona's lover; but if he would only marry the girl, and take her off her hands, the Europe ham would be a well invested outlay.
Whilst Mrs. Chandos was bargaining in the bazaar, Verona was sitting with her grandmother in the garden, reading—as the old lady's eager, but unaccustomed fingers manufactured a woollen necktie. It was the hour of sunset; birds were squabbling for the best branches—an artesian well was sending up its final creak—a native was droning as he shuffled down the road—the smell of wood smoke was in the air. Mrs. Lopez, who had been buried in thought, now suddenly put down her knitting and said:
"Well, so you have been here nearly six months, Verona! and you have wrought changes. Pussy is improved, so is Nicky; Dom copies the way you speak, and move; and your father, too, he is different; but you must not make him too content. No, no, no!"
"But why not, Nani?" she inquired, with a smile.
"Because, though your talk is to him as water to a parched-up plant, yet I must give you a word of warning. Your mother is a leetle, leetle jealous; she cannot help it, poor girl! but these talks, and readings, and games are not to her taste. No, no! sometimes when you are sitting with your father, she is walking up and down the verandah—oh, quite mad! I have seen her face! No, no, it is not good to look at. So, my dear child, once a week for these readings—will be plenty—no more."
"Well, Nani, you know best," agreed Verona, with a sigh. "Come, Johnny!" Johnny, the squirrel, who was playing among the trellis work with some young friends, gave a whisk to his tail, and darted down to his owner, ran up her extended arm and nestled to her cheek. When the poor girl's heart ached very badly, Johnny's soft caresses and adoring friendship seemed somehow to deaden the pain. Johnny was now a pretty little fellow, though smaller than his cousins, who flocked round the verandah. He associated with them—and he wished them to associate with Verona. On many an occasion she had entered her room, and found a dozen squirrels on her dressing-table! (Johnny's home was in a drawer, an old ramshackle drawer, which had a hole at the back; here he crept in and slept comfortably among her gloves and handkerchiefs—his nest was in a red silk necktie.) He frequently entertained company before the mirror, and no doubt his relations were delighted with his residence, but the instant his lady appeared, they scampered out. Once Johnny had been absent for a whole day, but honourably returned at nightfall, and when Verona heard him pattering in, she felt a thankfulness out of all proportion to the occasion. She loved Johnny, and could not bear to lose him. As she stroked his fur now, there was a long silence—she was thinking of Malcolm Haig's face as she had last seen it. She was firmly persuaded that she would never look upon it again. She had been mad to harbour hopes of release.