Jim, who expected always to have his own way, unless he was given excellent reasons in black and white for not having it, was about to expostulate and insist, when he saw tears on her lashes and a quiver of the sweet smiling lips, and gave in at once without further question.
They hired a tent, and pitched it on the shore at Tregarth, Myra telegraphed for a bathing-dress, and Jim went into the sea in his flannels and tried to teach her to swim, holding her up beneath her chin and saying; “One, two! ONE, TWO!” far louder than Myra had ever had it said to her before. Thus, amid much splashing and laughter, Lady Ingleby accomplished her swim of ten yards.
Miss Murgatroyd was shocked; nay, more than shocked. Miss Murgatroyd was scandalised! She took to her bed forthwith, expecting Miss Eliza and Miss Susannah to follow her example—in the spirit, if not to the letter. But, released from Amelia’s personal supervision, romantic little Susie led Eliza astray; and the two took a furtive and fearful joy in seeing all they could of the “goings on” of the couple who had boldly converted the prosaic Cornish hotel into a land of excitement and romance.
From the moment when on the morning after their adventure, Myra, with yellow roses in the belt of her white gown, had swept into the coffee-room at five minutes past nine, saying: “My dear Jim, have I kept you waiting? I hope the coffee is not cold?”—all life had seemed transformed to Miss Susie. Turning quickly, she had caught the look Jim Airth gave to the lovely woman who took her place opposite him at his hitherto lonely table, and, still smiling into his eyes, lifted the coffee-pot.
Amelia’s stern whisper had recalled her to her senses, and prevented any further glancing round; but she had heard Myra say: “I forgot your sugar, Jim. One lump, or two?” and Jim Airth’s reply: “As usual, thanks, dear,” not knowing, that with a silent twinkle of fun, he laid an envelope over his cup, as a sign to Myra, waiting with poised sugar-tongs, that “as usual” meant no sugar at all!
Later on, when she one day met Lady Ingleby alone in a passage, Miss Susannah ventured two hurried questions.
“Oh, tell me, my dear! Is it really true that you are going to marry Mr. Airth? And have you known him long?”
And Myra smiling down into Susie’s plump anxious face replied: “Well, as a matter of fact, Miss Susannah, Jim Airth is going to marry me. And I cannot explain how long I have known him. I seem to have known him all my life.”
“Ah,” whispered Miss Susannah with a knowing smile of conscious perspicacity; “Eliza and I felt sure it was a tiff.”
This remark appeared absolutely incomprehensible to Lady Ingleby; and not until she had repeated it to Jim, and he had shouted with laughter, and called her a bare-faced deceiver, did she realise that the “tiff” was supposed to have been operative during the whole time she and Jim Airth had sat at separate tables, and showed no signs of acquaintance.