“All right, Maude,” said her cousin, with restored gold humour. “What shall it be? A sack race? Or distribution of buns to the oldest inhabitants? It’s all the same to you, I suppose?”
It was her turn to look offended. She raised her head so far that her cousin could scarcely see more than the chins as she answered, in stately tones:
“Oh! of course, if I’m only to be laughed at, I withdraw the suggestion. But I thought, as we are in a beautiful house like this, where there is plenty of room and plenty of people to do everything, it seems a pity not to take advantage of it, and——”
“And get a line in the local paper,” added her husband.
There was a laugh at this, subdued on the part of her daughters, boisterously loud from Donald, who had been enjoying his cousin’s champagne immensely, and bestowing more and more of his attention on the unresponsive Chris.
They all knew that her project, if she could yet be said to have anything so definite, was not nipped in the bud, but would spring up to its full growth at a not remote period. For the moment, however, Mrs. Graham-Shute said no more about it, but rather disdainfully gave to Mrs. Abercarne the signal for the ladies to retire, instead of waiting for that lady to give it to her.
CHAPTER XI. AMATEUR CHARITY.
As soon as the ladies were in the drawing-room, Mrs. Graham-Shute returned to her point. As her daughters, used to mamma’s ways of “getting up” entertainments, were unsympathetic, and as Mrs. Abercarne was on her dignity, she was forced to pour out her proposals into the ear of Chris. Anxious to secure at least this one ally, she became very gracious to the girl.
“I’m sure you would be glad of some gaiety to vary the monotony of your life here,” she said, with condescension. “Now, what do you say to tableaux vivants? I’m sure we might get some up by Thursday. This is only Monday, so we have three clear days.”