He rode over to Ladyford the following afternoon.
Helwise came agitating on to the doorstep, just as his foot was in the stirrup, to tell him that his lordship had returned unexpectedly.
“He telephoned from the House in the middle of the morning,” she went on, with the high-pitched, running ease which always seemed to make every difficult situation doubly trying. “He said he would like to see you at your earliest convenience, but of course I told him you were engaged both this morning and afternoon, and to-night you were going to take me to that lecture on ‘The Home Beautiful.’ (It was to-night, wasn’t it?) I forgot to tell you at lunch. I think it just as well, Lancelot, to let his lordship know how extremely busy you are, and not always able to run at his beck and call. I am sure it is quite time you applied for a rise, with all these horrid insurances to add up. We could do quite easily with a small brougham.”
Lanty loosed the stirrup.
“I’m quite satisfied with my screw, thank you,” he answered shortly. “You know Bluecaster’s generosity as well as I do. And I do wish, Helwise,” (their old Lancaster names formed the one love they had in common), “that you wouldn’t arrange my business for me. I could have gone to Ladyford to-morrow, and this morning I was no further than the show-field, having a look round. You might have sent Armer with a message. He was only helping you to thread that bead-curtain. I’ll go in and ring his lordship up at once.”
He turned towards the door, but she stopped him.
“It’s no good; he won’t be at home. He said he was going out to lunch—I forget where—but he assured me it would be quite all right if you went up in the morning. So you see there’s nothing to prevent you riding over to Ladyford, and as you’re passing through Sandwath I do wish you would call at Brunskill’s for my watch. The man in Bluecaster is no more good than my shoe. And—oh, Lancelot!—I do believe it’s the Annual Meeting of the Nursing Association to-day, and it had gone clean out of my mind! I’m something important, I’m sure—let me see, what was it?—oh, yes, of course, Honorary Secretary—and they’ll certainly expect me to be there, but it’s absolutely out of the question. I’ve promised to drive to a bazaar in Witham with Harriet Knewstubb—I believe we’re judging something—I’ve forgotten what—but I can’t possibly leave her in the lurch. The report is ready—you went through it for me last week, if you remember—but I simply can’t be there to present it. Couldn’t you do it for me?”
“No, I couldn’t!” Lanty returned firmly. “I do some queer jobs both for you and for Bluecaster, but I haven’t yet got as far as presenting reports at a nursing meeting. Throw over Harriet and get along to your post. If you don’t want to walk, you can order a trap from the ‘Feathers.’”
“I dare say, but I shan’t try. You know what Harriet is if you go back on her—her language, I mean. The whole nursing committee and the patients wouldn’t be in it. I do think you might help me, Lancelot! It isn’t often I turn to you for assistance.”
The last phrase had been part of his life so long that it did not draw even a mental shrug. In a way he had grown almost to welcome it, since it marked the full stop to some tangled rigmarole. As a rule, he awaited it patiently with shut ears, and answered—something.