Nevertheless Janet sedately put the mug on the tray. When she was gone Pauline turned to Guy, and said:
"I'm sure Father thinks he ought to come and chaperone us. Isn't he sweet?"
Presently the Rector appeared looking very tall in the low doorway. He nodded cheerfully to Guy:
"Seen Vartani? You know, he's that pale blue fellow from Nazareth. Very often he's a washy lilac, but this is genuinely blue."
"No, I don't think I noticed it—him, I mean," said Guy apologetically.
"Oh, Father, of course he didn't! It's a tiny iris," she explained to Guy, "and Father puts in new roots every year...."
"Bulbs, my dear, bulbs," corrected Mr. Grey. "It's one of the Histrio lot."
"Well, bulbs. And every year one flower comes out in the middle of the winter rain and lasts about ten minutes, and then all the summer Birdwood and Father grub about looking for the bulb, which they never find, and then Father gets six new ones."
They talked on, the three of them, about flowery subjects while the Rector drank his tea from the mug without a word of comment on the inscription. Then he went off to write a letter, and Guy with a regretful glance at the room supposed he ought to go.
"Oh, no, stay a little while," said Pauline. "Look, it's raining again."