But that was, of course, not at all what he really meant to say. What he tried to bring out from the chaotic ideas which surrounded Elizabeth in his mind like the storm-clouds about a pictured saint, was the fact that she did a great deal more than exercise a talent—she created an atmosphere.
Mrs. Atterton glanced at his red face and said, in her comfortable way—
“That’s a tough chicken, I’m afraid, Mr. Deane. We always do have tough fowls, because my husband will grow our own poultry, and we put off killing them. You would be surprised how attached they become to us all.”
“I’m not surprised in the least,” said Andy, with a very pleasant look, half bold, half shy.
And Mrs. Atterton, who had her feelings, though she did measure thirty-four inches round the waist, smiled very kindly on her young guest.
“Well, I hope you’ll like us, too, when you get to know us,” she said. Then she turned to her eldest daughter. “What time are we to join the revels, Norah? I shall not be able to stay long as my back is troubling me a little.”
Andy felt very sorry to hear that, because Mrs. Atterton had so enjoyed everything but the chicken that he hoped her back was in abeyance; but Norah’s reply showed rather a want of sympathy.
“Will your back last out for half an hour?” she said. “Because, if so, we will do the country dances from half-past nine to ten.”
“That will do excellently. Then Martin can bring me my cocoa to my room at ten. By the way, Elizabeth, have you seen about the refreshments for the Dancing Class?”
For it was Mrs. Atterton’s second daughter who attended to the domestic arrangements of the establishment.