All morning Teresa was busy with preparations; she could not help being amused by the tremendous importance that everything concerning it had for Haines—it was like Parker, who seemed to think the world should stop moving during the fitting-on in the sewing-room of a new blouse.
No one had time to go in the car to meet David; and they had already begun luncheon when he arrived. All the actors were there, so it was a large party, and he sat down on the Doña’s left hand, far away from Teresa. She noticed that he ate practically nothing. He looked much stronger than in the spring, and his expression was almost buoyant.
Before the audience arrived, and when the actors were dressing in the two tents pitched on the lawn, they got a few words together.
“I’ve come,” he said, smiling.
“Yes ... you’ve come,” she answered.
“So you’ve been writing a play—‘a chiel amang us takin’ notes’!” and he smiled down on her.
Then Mrs. Moore came bustling across the lawn, shepherding her Institute, a score of working women in their Sunday finery, many of them carrying babies.
“How do you do, Teresa, what a glorious day! I saw dear Concha in church on Sunday; looking so bonny. It must be delightful having her back again. Well, this is a great surprise; we didn’t know you were an author; did we, Mrs. Bolton? We didn’t know Miss Lane wrote; did we? Well, we’re all very much looking forward to it; aren’t we, Mrs. Hedges? I don’t expect you’ve seen many plays before.”
“I saw East Lynne when I was in service in Bedford,” said one woman proudly.
“I’ve seen that on the pictures,” said another.