After that, Leeds and Mrs. Leeds were invited to various small social functions, and then, in return, they gave a monster picnic. It was, as entertainments not infrequently are, the occasion for one or two contretemps. Mrs. Leeds, a kindly, noisy, unperceiving creature, at the last moment extended an invitation to Mrs. Harter, whom it seemed that they had met in Cairo, when their yacht was coaling at Port Said. I was present at Grainges when Mrs. Leeds announced this to Lady Annabel.
“So very amusin’ to meet a well-known face unexpectedly,” she said jovially. “And Mrs. Harter was almost too well-known, in Cairo—ha-ha! Any amount of scandal was talked about her, I believe—so interestin’, scandal, I always think.”
Lady Annabel looked pale and said in a very low voice that Mrs. Harter was the daughter of the local plumber, she believed.
“Really?” said Mrs. Leeds. “I wish I’d asked her to bring her father—he could have had a look at the range.”
We all met at Grainges, from whence a fleet of cars was to carry us to Berry Down. Leeds had two cars and his wife one, and the servants, besides a mountain of hampers, preceded us in a Ford lorry.
“It is almost like the East again to see this sort of thing. Native labor, you know....” Lady Annabel murmured to me rather wistfully.
However, she ceased to be wistful, and became austere instead, when she heard about Mrs. Harter.
Captain Patch brought her and they arrived on foot. Mrs. Leeds happened to be out of the room, giving final orders to one of the chauffeurs, and there was a moment’s awkwardness.
We were all assembled in the big drawing-room and Lady Annabel, for whom we waited instinctively, made no move at all.
Alfred Kendal said, “Hullo, Patch!” rather feebly and Mrs. Harter stood by the door, waiting.