Lady Austell had lit a cigarette just before Mrs. Osborne’s entrance, and, still looking at her, with her usual bereaved, regretful smile, was making efforts to pass it to Jim behind the shelter of the table. He observed this, and with a stealthy movement took it from her, for though they exposed each other in private, they were firm allies in the presence of others.
“I’ve been having such a scolding from my mother,” he said, “for smoking in here, but I told her you were far too good-natured to mind. Have I done very wrong?”
Mrs. Osborne beamed.
“And me just saying that the more our guests pleased themselves the better we were pleased!” she exclaimed. “Well, what is it to be, Lady Austell? A drive to Pevensey, with Sir Thomas and Mrs. Percy, and I’m sure there’ll be no difficulty about getting another gentleman when it’s known as you are going, or a stroll or what-not, and a bit of lunch quietly at home, and maybe a drive afterward. Give it a name, Lady Austell, and it’s settled.”
Lady Austell turned one glance of gratitude at her son, and continued to smile at her hostess.
“You are too kind,” she said, “but as I’ve just been telling Austell, what I should really like to do best would be to spend the morning quietly by myself, going over the dear old place again. And then may we see how the afternoon turns out?”
This pathetic mention of the “dear old place,” though “dilapidated old barrack” would have been a far more accurate description of Grote as it was, made Mrs. Osborne feel quite apologetic. She spoke to her husband about it afterwards. “I assure you, my dear,” she said, “to see her sitting there with that sad smile it was quite touching, as if it ought to have been she who asked me what I would fancy doing. Well, it’s one up and another down in this world, and after all we’ve done something in taking the place off their hands, and putting a stick or two of furniture in it, and keeping the rain out. And the white boudoir suite, it looks beautiful; I hadn’t seen it since they put it in.”
“Well, I’m sure the oftener Lady A. favours us with her visits, the more we shall be pleased,” said Mr. Osborne. “And we give them a rattling good rent for it, my dear, when all’s said and done. Why, there’s the motor coming round now, and the clock striking twelve already. Sir Thomas would like a glass of sherry, I’ll be bound, before his long drive.”
“And I must see cook,” said Mrs. Osborne, “and half the morning gone already. Have you any fancy for dinner, to-night, my dear?”