Tony said nothing, and, as none of the others appeared inclined to talk, the stillness of the afternoon made itself felt. The pale yellow sunshine lay hot upon the lawn, and the soft murmur of the river came up across the corn, which, broken by dusky woodlands steeped in slumbrous shadow and meadow no longer green, rolled back in waves of ruddy bronze into the valley. Beyond it the hillsides, narrowing in, faded blurred and dim into the hazy distance. Still, the eyes of Tony and Violet Wayne were fixed upon the raw blotch of brickwork rising against the green woods above a flashing pool of the river. The rushy meadows and barren hillside environing it were now worth the best plough land on the Northrop estate, and, as both of those who looked at them remembered then, they had been intended as Appleby’s inheritance.
It was Hester who broke the silence. “Your question has been answered, Nettie,” she said. “It is decided that the person who did the wrong is the one to right it; and now we’ll change the topic. The entertainment we had at Darsley was, as you know, an immense success, so great, indeed, that as we still want money we have decided to have another.”
“Still, it seems to me you can’t consistently inflict any more tickets on the Darsley tradesmen,” said Tony, who appeared desirous of concealing his relief. “The fact is, I was rather sorry for one or two of them. Rawley told me he had to buy at least two half-crown tickets from each of his leading supporters. I don’t think it would be decent to bleed them any more.”
Hester laughed. “That difficulty has been provided for, and I told everybody that I sent tickets to that it would be conducive to success if when they broached the subject they paid their bills. This time we intend to put the screw on our friends. You see, it is some time since we had any little relaxation among ourselves.”
“A concert isn’t really very amusing,” said Tony. “Anyway, not when you have to sing at it.”
“That depends. This one will be; and since it isn’t exactly a concert it will have the virtue of novelty. We intend to hold it here by moonlight and limelight on the lawn. The tickets will be invitation ones at half-a-guinea.”
“Where will you get your limelights from? I believe that kind of thing costs a good deal,” said Tony.
“I don’t know. The privilege of being allowed to supply them has been allotted to Mr. Anthony Palliser. He is also put down for a song.”
Tony made a gesture of resignation. “It will most likely rain.”
“Still, the tickets will have been sold, and if it does rain the people who can’t get into the big billiard room can sit out in couples in the hall, which will probably please them just as well. We, however, mean to have it outside if we can. We want the limelights for the tableaux and costume dancing.”