‘Of course,’ said Edward approvingly. ‘I forgot about that. Now then! You lead the way!’
The Blue Room had in prehistoric times been added to by taking in a superfluous passage, and so not only had the advantage of two doors, but also enabled us to get to the head of the stairs without passing the chamber wherein our dragon-aunt lay couched. It was rarely occupied, except when a casual uncle came down for the night. We entered in noiseless file, the room being plunged in darkness, except for a bright strip of moonlight on the floor, across which we must pass for our exit. On this our leading lady chose to pause, seizing the opportunity to study the hang of her new dressing-gown. Greatly satisfied thereat, she proceeded, after the feminine fashion, to peacock and to pose, pacing a minuet down the moonlit patch with an imaginary partner. This was too much for Edward’s histrionic instincts, and after a moment’s pause he drew his single-stick, and, with flourishes meet for the occasion, strode on to the stage. A struggle ensued on approved lines, at the end of which Selina was stabbed slowly and with unction, and her corpse borne from the chamber by the ruthless cavalier. The rest of us rushed after in a clump, with capers and gesticulations of delight; the special charm of the performance lying in the necessity for its being carried out with the dumbest of dumb shows.
“WE ENTERED IN NOISELESS FILE, THE ROOM
BEING PLUNGED IN DARKNESS, EXCEPT FOR A
BRIGHT STRIP OF MOONLIGHT ON THE FLOOR”
Once out on the dark landing, the noise of the storm without told us that we had exaggerated the necessity for silence; so, grasping the tails of each other’s nightgowns, even as Alpine climbers rope themselves together in perilous places, we fared stoutly down the staircase-moraine, and across the grim glacier of the hall, to where a faint glimmer from the half-open door of the drawing-room beckoned to us like friendly hostel-lights. Entering, we found that our thriftless seniors had left the sound red heart of a fire, easily coaxed into a cheerful blaze; and biscuits—a plateful—smiled at us in an encouraging sort of way, together with the halves of a lemon, already squeezed, but still suckable. The biscuits were righteously shared, the lemon segments passed from mouth to mouth; and as we squatted round the fire, its genial warmth consoling our unclad limbs, we realised that so many nocturnal perils had not been braved in vain.
‘It’s a funny thing,’ said Edward, as we chatted, ‘how I hate this room in the daytime. It always means having your face washed, and your hair brushed, and talking silly company talk. But to-night it’s really quite jolly. Looks different, somehow.’
‘I never can make out,’ I said, ‘what people come here to tea for. They can have their own tea at home if they like—they’re not poor people—with jam and things, and drink out of their saucer, and suck their fingers and enjoy themselves; but they come here from a long way off, and sit up straight with their feet off the bars of their chairs, and have one cup, and talk the same sort of stuff every time.’
Selina sniffed disdainfully. ‘You don’t know anything about it,’ she said. ‘In society you have to call on each other. It’s the proper thing to do.’
‘Pooh! you’re not in society,’ said Edward politely; ‘and, what’s more, you never will be.’
‘Yes, I shall, some day,’ retorted Selina; ‘but I shan’t ask you to come and see me, so there!’