I was thinking of the luncheon, not the inn, myself, and did not expect great things from the look of the place, which was low and poky, with thatched eaves and windows all buried in clematis and ivy. A little cobbled path led up to the door, with lots of wallflower growing in the crannies of the wall on each side. There was nobody but a lass to attend to us, and she gave us bread and cheese, and clouted cream and plum jam. It wasn't bad. Virginia talked ten to the dozen all the time, and the funny thing was, she made me talk too. For the first time in my life I felt that it might not be a bad thing to be friends with a girl as you can be with a man, but such a thing is not possible, of course. After a while Virginia went off to make friends with the landlady and pick flowers in the garden. How beastly dingy and dark the inn parlour seemed then, when I had time to look about! I felt, all of a sudden, most tremendously down on my luck. Why? I have had these fits of the blues lately; I think it must be the Devonshire cream; I must stop it.
We got home all right. I carried all Miss Virginia's flowers which the old woman had given her,—about a stack of daffodils, lilies, and clematis.
CECILIA EVESHAM
Sunday evening
I begin to think I am what is called a psychical person, for I woke this morning with a strong presentiment of things happening or about to happen. The day did not seem to lend itself to events; it had broken with rain lashing the window panes and a gale of wind blowing through every crevice of the hotel. Mrs. MacGill did not feel able to rise for breakfast. As a matter of fact she was more able to do so than I was, but she didn't think so, which settled the matter. Therefore I went down to the breakfast-room alone.
If the outer air was dreary, the scene indoors was very cheerful. A large fire blazed in the grate, and in front of the rain-lashed windows a table was laid for three. Virginia and Sir Archibald were already seated at it, and he rose, as I came in, and showed me that my place was with them.
'We felt sure that Mrs. MacGill would not appear this morning,' he said, 'so we thought we might all breakfast together.'
What a gay little meal that was! Virginia was at her brightest; she would have made an owl laugh. I found myself forgetting headache and unhappiness, as I listened to her; and as for Sir Archibald, he seemed another man altogether from the rigid young Scotchman of our first acquaintance.
'Well, now, Sir Archibald,' said Virginia, as she rose from the table, 'the question is what a well-brought-up young man like you is going to do with himself all this wet day. I know what we are to be about, Miss Evesham and I,—we are going to look at all my new Paris gowns, and try on all my best hats.'