MRS. FIELDING
When the great high-powered car from Shale Court stopped at the gate of the blacksmith's cottage on the following morning Mrs. Rickett, who was feeding her young chicks in the yard outside the forge, was thrown into a state of wild agitation. Everyone in Little Shale stood in awe of the squire's wife.
She went nervously to enquire what was wanted, and met the chauffeur at the gate.
"It's all right, Mrs. Rickett. Don't fluster yourself!" he said. "It's
Miss Moore we're after. Go and tell her, will you?"
Mrs. Rickett looked at the bold-eyed young man with disfavour. "Well, you're not expecting her to come out to you, are you?" she retorted tartly.
He smiled. "Yes, I rather think we are, Mrs. Fielding doesn't want to get out. Where is she?"
Mrs. Rickett drew in her breath. "But Miss Moore is a lady born!" she objected. "Haven't you got a card I can take her?"
Mrs. Rickett had lived among the gentry in her maiden days, and, as she was wont to assert, she knew what was what as well as anybody. She had, moreover, a vigorous dislike for young Jack Green the chauffeur who, notwithstanding his airs,—perhaps because of them,—occupied a much lower plane in her estimation than his brother the schoolmaster. But Jack was one of those people whom it is practically impossible to snub. He merely continued to smile.
"Well, you'd better let me go and find her if you won't," he said, "or madam will be getting impatient."
It was at this point that Juliet came upon the scene, walking up from the shore with her hair blowing in the breeze. She carried a towel and a bathing dress on her arm. Columbus trotted beside her, full of cheery self-importance.