"We thought the gate to the sea path might have been locked," said Violet Weston. "Old Berthe loves keys and safety. She entreats me unceasingly to go to Switzerland as the only safe and proper place during the war."
Berthe, who wore ample skirts and rather represented a feminine barrel crowned with a black cap, came in with syphons and decanters. She returned with sandwiches clumsily cut, bade them Bon nuit in a villainously Swiss accent, and hobbled out.
"Mrs. De Burgho Keane wanted to know if she could be a German in disguise," giggled Violet, "because the old thing of course talks both languages. And Berthe has no sympathy with fighting. Poor old soul! she has some relations hard at it in France—two, I think."
Mr. Harold Keefe was mildly in love—sufficiently so as to occasionally forget to make declarations as he stared at Mrs. Weston, but not sufficiently to forget common-sense and to try to obtain all suitable information concerning Paul Weston, deceased, his circumstances in life, and his last testament. Gheena knitted when she was dummy, and talked incessantly of the Bobbery pack without.
Horses must now be made fit, no one had bothered so far. Mumsie's saddle was not even newly stuffed, and Dearest's two horses were on hay and bran.
Mrs. Weston decided to put hers on straw and looked surprised because Stafford and Gheena laughed immoderately, and Keefe choked politely.
"With all this talk of horses," said the Professor patiently, "I wait to play."
When it was decided that he had not gone three diamonds over Basil's three clubs, because when pressed he offered to show that of diamonds he had but one, the game proceeded, some umbrage being taken to Gheena the Professor's partner, leading the ace of diamonds and then another.
"But she might have, in any case," said Violet Weston easily. "Mr. Keefe, what shade is my new horse?"
Keefe, who was standing out, said: "Bay, blood bay, with black points."