“Nor me,” said Georgie. “But it’s no use being cross with her. Besides, it’s so terribly interesting. I shouldn’t wonder if she was writing some invitations on the cards you saw——”
“No, I never saw the cards,” said Daisy, scrupulously. “Only the plate.”
“It’s the same thing. She may be writing invitations now, to post in London.”
“Go a little before eleven then, and see,” said Daisy. “Even if she’s not writing them then, there’ll be envelopes lying about perhaps.”
“Come too,” said Georgie.
“Certainly not,” said Daisy. “If Lucia doesn’t choose to tell me she’s going away, the only dignified thing to do is to behave as if I knew nothing whatever about it. I’m sure I hope she’ll have a very pleasant drive. That’s all I can say about it; I take no further interest in her movements. Besides, I’m very busy: I’ve got to finish weeding my garden, for I’ve not been able to touch it these last days, and then my Planchette arrived this morning. And a Ouija board.”
“What’s that?” said Georgie.
“A sort of Planchette, but much more—much more powerful. Only it takes longer, as it points at letters instead of writing,” said Daisy. “I shall begin with Planchette and take it up seriously, because I know I’m very psychic, and there’ll be a little time for it now that we sha’n’t be trapesing round all day in ruffs and stomachers over those May-Day revels. Perhaps there’ll be May-Day revels in Brompton Square for a change. I shouldn’t wonder: nothing would surprise me about Lucia now. And it’s my opinion we shall get on very well without her.”
Georgie felt he must stick up for her: she was catching it so frightfully hot all round.
“After all, it isn’t criminal to spend a few weeks in London,” he observed.