“Do have some more.” The voice was kindness itself. “And then if you would like to rest a little after your long and tiresome journey you shall go up to your room.”
Nothing could have been nicer, easier or more amiable. For all her excitement, which seemed to be breaking in burning waves round her head and ears, Girlie was able to do ample justice to her tea and cake; she even continued to listen with a kind of gratitude to the prattle of the yellow chrysanthemum lady, who was obviously a very good sort.
“We feel quite honored, you know, at having you here. Sir Toby says you are to be advertised as our principal star on the play bills. So awfully clever of you to act in the way you do. I am sure you will be a great draw. And such a good cause. Do have some more tea, won’t you?”
The curiously shy and timid Lady Elfreda was not averse from even a third cup of tea.
“One hears that you are simply wonderful as Lady Henrietta in the Duke of Killiecrankie. The Society Pictorial says you have genius, although”—Girlie suddenly felt the eyes of the hostess fixed intently upon her—“you don’t look much like your photograph. Do have another piece of tea-cake.”
Girlie had never heard prattle sound quite so agreeable. She began to take very kindly to her surroundings. At the back of her mind, it was true, the sense of the unreal was almost grisly. But the immediate present in which she was living was strangely like a dream, although touched with sinister edges that might develop into a nightmare at any moment. Still, a low cushioned chair, three cups of tea and the eager, the almost too eager kindness of the hostess were for the time being an anodyne for the fear that hovered like doom in the background.
“Dinner is not until a quarter past eight, so that if you would like a little rest you shall go to your room.” The yellow chrysanthemum lady glanced half-maternally at the small peaked face. “If you like, I will show you the way.”
Girlie was most comfortable as she was, but instinct told her that it would be wise to end the present phase of the dream, which was so seductive, and prepare to envisage some of the stern realities that were undoubtedly lurking near at hand.
“I think I will please—if you don’t mind.” Those were the first words Girlie found the courage to speak in her capacity of a marquis’ daughter. For an instant the sound of her own voice, pitched rather higher than was quite natural, seemed to leave her half paralyzed with her own audacity.
Happily the hostess, whose name she didn’t know, was very much a get-things-done sort of lady. “Very well, you shall.” She rose from her chair with genial authority. “You will be all the better for an hour’s rest after such a trying journey.”