“Well, surely that doesn’t matter,” said Von Marlo. “Describe her, Miss Rachel.”
“I will if you wish it,” I answered.
“Yes, do,” said Charley. “You have seen quite a lot of her.”
“I must be honest at all costs,” I said, “and if she had not married father—yes, it is quite true—I’d have liked her. She is what you would—I mean she was—I don’t suppose she is now, for when people are dreadfully wicked they change, don’t they? But before she was wicked—before she married father—she was a very—very—well, a very jolly sort of woman.”
“Jolly?” said Charley. “I like that! How do you mean jolly?”
“Round and fattish—not too fat—with laughing eyes.”
“We haven’t much of laughing eyes in this house,” said Alex.
“Well, her eyes seem to be always laughing, even when her face is grave; and she makes delicious things to eat—at least she did make them.”
“Let’s hope she has not lost the art,” said Alex. “If we must have her in the family, let us trust that she has at least some merits. Good things to eat? What sort?”
I described the food at Hedgerow House, and described it well. I then went on to speak of the stuffed birds. The boys were wildly excited. I spoke of other things, and gave them a very full and true account of Miss Grace Donnithorne.