Christopher did, in an honest attempt to make the thing less magnificent, suggest sharing a salad plate with his neighbor, but Leeds overheard him, and roared to one of the men servants. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Kendal was sitting on the missing salad plate, which was afterwards found embedded deeply into quite hard ground, but of course the servants produced an extra one without a moment’s hesitation.
However, iced Moselle, whether suitable or not to a picnic on the moors, was bound to have its effect, and, anyway, Leeds and Mrs. Leeds undeniably came into the category known to modern slang as “cheery souls.” So that by the time we were all eating cherries and strawberries, the picnic had become a very animated and successful affair.
Claire, while Leeds was telling Sallie that he had been through parts of China where no other white man had ever been allowed to set foot, got her opportunity, and gave Alfred Kendal and Mrs. Leeds, and one or two others, an amusing account of an impromptu charade party of the previous summer. The point of the story was her own success in a tragic impersonation, but she brought it in very skilfully. The contrast between her methods, and those of Leeds, was rather amusing.
Lady Annabel talked to the Kendals. Puppa and Mumma have lived sufficiently long in the East to understand her point of view.
Most of the younger people present were playing bob-cherry, but Christopher, with his hat tipped right over his eyes, was talking to Nancy Fazackerly, and Bill Patch and Mrs. Harter were silent.
He was industriously scraping together a small pile of fir needles and dry twigs—one of those mechanical occupations that are generally the sign of complete mental absorption in something else—and she was lighting and smoking one after another of her interminable cigarettes.
Mary Ambrey had been sitting next to me, but she gave me a little nod presently, and changed her place, and went to talk to Mrs. Leeds. She has out-of-date ideas of the courtesy due to a hostess from a guest, which are not shared by her children. Then Mrs. Leeds added the final touch to her lavish entertainment, and produced, with the air of a benevolent conjuror, a couple of tooled-leather boxes containing cards and bridge markers.
“I thought it’d be a shame to waste the afternoon,” she said simply, clearing a space for a thin carriage rug to cover the purple heather, and setting her back against a small, shimmering silver birch.
“Upon my word, that’s a great idea,” said General Kendal, brightening for the first time since the expedition had started.
“Hector!”