“To come down on us without warning like this!” she expostulated, smiling down at him. “Why, we might have had no leisure to see you or luncheon to give you! When did you actually come?”
“Half an hour and five minutes ago. I’ve seen Cæsar and St. Michael, and I’ve had luncheon.”
“And have you come to stay?”
“I don’t know yet.” He leant his arm on the bough where she sat, which was of exactly convenient height.
“The amount of leisure you seem to have on hand,” said Patricia severely, “is outrageous, considering how hard the rest of the family work.”
“Especially Nevil,” laughed Christopher.
“Especially Nevil. We have not sat down to a meal with him for three weeks. He nearly walked on Max’s puppy last week and he has forgotten Charlotte’s existence except as a penwiper—she went in to him one morning with a message and came out with an ink smudge on her red dress—she said it was his pen—the dress is the same colour as the penwiper, so she may be right. He paid no attention to the message.”
“Well, at present, if you take the trouble to go into the Rosery you will find Nevil lying by the fountain catching goldfish with Max. I do not think he remembered I’d been away.”
“Oh, I am glad,” cried Patricia, clapping her hands; 202 “of course it’s very nice of him to be so clever and write so beautifully, but it’s much nicer when he’s just a dear silly thing—and catches goldfish. But tell me about yourself now. Are you well? And have you been working hard? Why aren’t you in Belgium, why have you come, and what are you going to do, and when are you going back?”
“Stop, I can’t keep more than five questions in my head at once and I’ve answered several of yours already. The first is trivial; you have eyes. I have been working as usual; it’s no use to explain how, you have no conception of work at all. I am not in Belgium because I am here in a better place. I am going to enjoy myself, I hope, and I shall go away when it pleases me.”