“Yah, Miss... there’s the Queen’s... and Swears’s Hotel... Mr Swears is a very good Baas... keeps a very nice bar, and a good brand of dop.”
Upon this warm recommendation of the man with the profane name I instantly decided to go to the Queen’s, and ordered him to drive me there as soon as we got into the town. But he argued that he must go to the post-office and discharge the mails, so then I knew there was no hope for me. The only thing to do was to bless Heaven for such small mercies as chiffon-veiling, darkness, and a drizzle of hot rain that might keep the curious away. But, regardless of such trifles, there was the expectant crowd arranged before the post-office. Dimly I descried about fifty people, most of them men, as usual, but I could hear women’s voices and laughter. I tried to hide behind the mail-bags, but Hendricks began to seize them and fling them forth with a splendid sang-froid into the road. Suddenly I heard my name spoken in a woman’s voice—a very languid, weary voice.
“Where is your passenger, Hendricks—Miss Saurin? Didn’t she come?”
I knew then it was no use hiding any longer. Dick had evidently been kind enough to ask some one to meet me. Bother his kindness! I leaned out, swathed in chiffon, and said more sweetly than I felt:
“I am Miss Saurin.”
A woman mounted on the cart step and peered in at me, and to my astonishment I recognised my sister-in-law.
“Judy!” I cried in astonishment.
“Oh Deirdre! how could you come? Dick has been almost out of his mind with worry about you, wiring to me all day long for news. What makes you think you will be amused up here?”
This was not the kind of welcome I had expected after travelling five or six thousand miles to make a visit!
“I thought you lived in Salisbury,” I said rather flatly.