“We’re simply loving it here,” Stella said. “But I think the piano is feeling a little bit out of his element. He’s stiff with being on his best behavior.”
“I’m hoping to get rather a good pitch in Six Ash field,” said Alan. “I’ll show it to you to-morrow morning.”
The butler came in with news of callers:
“The Countess of Stilton and Lady Anne Varley.”
“Oh, damn!” Stella exclaimed, when the butler had retired. “I really don’t think people ought to call just before Christmas. However, you’ve both got to come in and be polite.”
Michael managed to squeeze himself into a corner of the drawing-room, whence he could watch Lady Stilton and her daughter talking to Mr. and Mrs. Prescott-Merivale.
“We ought not to have bothered you in this busy week before Christmas, but my husband has been so ill in Marienbad, ever since the summer really, that we only got home a fortnight ago. So very trying. And I’ve been longing to meet you. Poor Dick Prescott was a great friends of ours.”
Michael had a sudden intuition that Prescott had bequeathed Stella’s interests to Lady Stilton, who probably knew all about her. He wondered if Stella had guessed this.
“And Anne heard you play at King’s Hall. Didn’t you, Anne dear?”
Lady Anne nodded and blushed.