Hester ran down the steps accompanied by Nan. There was a confused murmur of greeting and introduction. Mrs. Bernard Temple kissed Hester on her forehead, called her "dear child," and looked into her eyes in a way which made Hester long to shut them, patted Nan on her shoulder and hoped she was a good, obliging little girl, and then, followed by Antonia and Susy, who dropped a succession of wraps the whole way, entered one of the drawing rooms.
"My dear John, what a perfectly charming room," exclaimed Mrs. Bernard Temple, turning to her future husband and glancing down the long room with a critical eye. "Furniture just a little out of date—not enough Chippendale—old-fashioned, but not antique—we'll soon put that right, however. Antonia has a wonderful eye for colour. You see, she has been trained in an atelier in Paris."
The faintest perceptible frown might have been seen between Sir John's eyebrows. He took no special notice of Mrs. Bernard Temple's remark, but walking up the long and exquisitely proportioned room flung open some French windows which led into a flower garden, gay with every imaginable flower. There was a distant and very lovely view from this window.
"I think you will admire the landscape from this window," he said, turning and speaking with an air of great deference to his distinguished guest.
"In one moment, my love," she replied. "Antonia, what do you think of old gold curtains, and one of those dark olive-green papers for the walls? This light decoration is absolutely inadmissible."
"Old gold is quite out of date," replied Antonia, opening her lips for the first time. "I'm sick of old gold, it's not chic now. I'll look through some of my antique designs and sketch my idea of a drawing-room for you presently, mother; now pray attend to Sir John."
Mrs. Bernard Temple favoured her daughter with a glance which was returned in a very frank and determined manner by that young lady. She then sailed slowly up the room and condescended to admire the view pointed out by Sir John.
Hester was standing near one of the windows talking to Susy, who had already sunk into an easy chair, and was fanning herself with an enormous black fan which hung at her girdle. Antonia, after a moment's hesitation, came up to Hester.
"I'm very sorry we have come," she said, "but it really is not my fault. Mother is in a state of flutter at having caught Sir John. I'm disgusted about it all. I don't want a stepfather any more than you want a stepmother. I'm to be turned into a fine lady now, and I hate being a fine lady. I have a soul for art. I adore art. I'm all art. Art is sacred; it shouldn't be talked about the way mother speaks of it. When I was in Paris I was in my element. I wore a linen blouse all over paint; ah, that blouse—those happy days."
"Oh, Tony," suddenly burst from Susy's lips, "for pity's sake don't go off into a trance; you'll put Hester into a fit. Her face at the present moment is enough to kill anyone. For goodness sake, Hester, don't look like that; you'll make me laugh, and if I laugh immoderately it always wakes me up. I was looking out for a little nap before tea—forty winks, you know—I can't live without my forty winks, and now if you put on that killingly tragic face, I'll scream with laughter, I know I shall. Oh, dear, oh, dear, you must learn once for all never to mind a single thing Tony says; she's the oddest, most irrational creature—a genius of course—her pictures are simply monstrosities, which is a sure sign of genius."