For the moment Mrs. Altham could not see who it was; then, as the car moved on again, there appeared from behind it the tall figure of Dr. Evans. Mrs. Altham was not so foolish as to suppose that their conversation had necessarily anything to do with medical matters; she did not fly to the conclusion that Lady Westbourne or any of the children must certainly be ill. To a person of her mental grasp it was sufficient to remember that Mrs. Evans was Sir James’ first cousin. She heard also the baronet’s cheerful voice as the two parted, saying, “Saturday the twenty-eighth, then. I’ll tell my wife.” That, of course, settled it; it required only a moment’s employment of her power of inference to make her feel convinced that Saturday the twenty-eighth would be the date for Mrs. Evans’ garden-party. There were a good many garden-parties in Riseborough about then, for strawberries might be expected to be reasonably cheap. Probably the date had been settled only this morning; she might look forward to receiving the “At-Home” card (four to seven) by the afternoon post.
The residential quarters of Riseborough lay both at the top of the hill, on which the town stood, clustering round the fine old Norman church, and at the bottom, along Queensgate Street, which passed into the greater spaciousness of St. Barnabas Road. On the whole, that might be taken to be the Park Lane of the place, and commanded the highest rents; every house there, in addition to being completely detached, had a small front garden with a carriage drive long enough to hold three carriages simultaneously, if each horse did not mind putting its nose within rubbing distance of the carriage in front of it, while the foremost projected a little into the road again. But there were good houses also at the top of the hill, where Dr. Evans lived, and those who lived below naturally considered themselves advantageously placed in being sheltered from the bleak easterly winds which often prevailed in spring, while those at the top wondered among themselves in sultry summer days how it was possible to exist in the airless atmosphere below. The middle section of the town was mercantile, and it was here that the ladies of the place, both from above and below, met each other with such invariable fortuitousness in the hours before lunch. To-day, however, though the street was so full, it was for purposes of news-gathering curiously deserted, and apart from the circumstance of inferentially learning the date of Mrs. Evans’ garden-party, Mrs. Altham found nothing to detain her until she had got to the very door of Mr. Pritchard’s grocery. But there her prolonged fast was broken; Mrs. Taverner was ready to give and receive, and after the business of the colourless tongue was concluded in a manner that was perfectly creditable to Mr. Pritchard, the two ladies retraced their steps (for Mrs. Taverner was of St. Barnabas Road) down the hill again.
Mrs. Taverner quite agreed about the strong probability of Mrs. Evans’ garden-party being on the twenty-eighth; and proceeded to unload herself of far more sensational information. She talked rather slowly, but without ever stopping of her own accord, so that she got as much into a given space of time as most people. Even if she was temporarily stopped by an interruption, she kept her mouth open, so as to be able to proceed at the earliest possible moment.
“Yes, three weeks, as you say, is a long notice, is it not?” she said; “but I’m sure people are wise to give long notice, otherwise they will find all their guests are already engaged, such a quantity of parties as there will be this summer. Mrs. Ames has sent out dinner-cards for exactly the same date, I am told. I daresay they agreed together to have a day full of gaiety. Perhaps you are asked to dine there on the twenty-eighth, Mrs. Altham?”
“No, not at present.”
“Well, then, it will be news to you,” said Mrs. Taverner, “if what I have heard is true, and it was Mrs. Fortescue’s governess who told me, whom I met taking one of the children to the dentist.”
“That would be Edward,” said Mrs. Altham unerringly. “I have often noticed his teeth are most irregular: one here, another there.”
She spoke as if it was more usual for children to have all their teeth on the same spot, but Mrs. Taverner understood.
“Very likely; indeed, I think I have noticed it myself. Well, what I have to tell you seems very irregular, too; Edward’s teeth are nothing to it. It was talked about, so Miss—I can never recollect her name, and, from what I hear, I do not think Mrs. Fortescue finds her very satisfactory—it was talked about, so Mrs. Fortescue’s governess told me, at breakfast time, and it was agreed that General Fortescue should accept, for if you are asked three weeks ahead it is no use saying you are engaged. No doubt Mrs. Ames gave that long notice for that very reason.”
“But what is it that is so irregular?” asked Mrs. Altham, nearly dancing with impatience at these circumlocutions.