“Stop here!” she said. “I want to get out.”
As the victoria drew up near a gate she made a light gesture.
“What do you think, Starling,” she laughed. “The very woman we are talking about is sitting in the Gardens there. I know her perfectly though I only saw her portrait at the Academy years ago. Yes, there she is. Mrs. Muir, you know.” She clapped her hands and her laugh became a delighted giggle. “And my Robin is playing on the grass near her—with a boy! What a joke! It must be the boy! And I wanted to see the pair together. Coombe said couldn’t be done. And more than anything I want to speak to her. Let’s get out.”
They got out and this was why Helen Muir, turning her eyes a moment from Robin whose hand she was holding, saw two women coming towards her with evident intention. At least one of them had evident intention. She was the one whose light attire produced the effect of being made of hyacinth petals.
Because Mrs. Muir’s glance turned towards her, Robin’s turned also. She started a little and leaned against Mrs. Muir’s knee, her eyes growing very large and round indeed and filling with a sudden worshipping light.
“It is—” she ecstatically sighed or rather gasped, “the Lady Downstairs!”
Feather floated near to the seat and paused smiling.
“Where is your nurse, Robin?” she said.
Robin being always dazzled by the sight of her did not of course shine.
“She is reading under the tree,” she answered tremulously.