“Really, Jane,” she drawled, “the tropics were never made for walkin’. I believe I’ll keep my new waist line —”
“Not a bad idea to keep what little Nature is still willing to give you.” Mrs. Edis’s voice was as sarcastic as her eyes. “I hope there was no bad news in your note?”
“Note?” Mrs. Winstone turned her back and began to rearrange the flowers on the bookcase.
“Do you fancy the least event could happen in this house without my knowledge?”
“Really, it was so unimportant I had forgotten it. Merely an invitation to Bath House. That reminds me—” She adopted her airiest tones. “Have I spoken to you of Mrs. Morison? Charmin’ little woman stoppin’ at Bath House. I met her drivin’ just now, and impulsively asked her to come to tea to-day, and bring the others. How naughty of me. I should have consulted you first.”
“Your friends are welcome to tea. I am not a pauper.”
“But such a hermit! It is too kind of you to take me in. I don’t fancy botherin’ you with my friends.”
“How is it you were not carried away by impulse before?”
“I came to Nevis to see you and to rest. I see enough of Hannah and Pirie in London. But now that Mrs. Morison has come to Bath House, and her brother, Daniel Tay —”
Mrs. Edis lifted her head as if she scented powder. “A man? Is he married?”