Two girls were waiting, both plump and pretty, and very smart—perhaps a shade too smart for the occasion, but very well turned-out. They greeted my companion joyfully, and there was a little babel of chatter, while I stood apart, hardly knowing what to do. Then I heard one of the girls break off suddenly.
“We’ve got to collect one of Mother’s cats,” she said, not lowering her voice at all. “Seen anything of her, Dicky? She was to come on this train.”
Mr. Atherton turned as red as his hair. I had already done so.
“S-sh!” he said. “Steady, Beryl—she’ll hear you.” Apparently he thought I should not hear him, but there wasn’t any escaping his voice. He came over to me, and conducted me across the platform. “This is Miss Earle, whom you are to collect,” he told her. “Miss Beryl McNab, Miss Earle—and Miss Guest.”
Neither girl proffered a hand, and I was wildly thankful for the impulse that had kept mine by my side. Instead, there was blank amazement on their faces.
“Then you’ve known each other before?” Beryl McNab said.
“No—I introduced myself on the way down,” explained Mr. Atherton hurriedly. “Tumbled into Miss Earle’s compartment, and fell violently over her; and then I found she was coming here. It was great luck for me.”
“Quite so,” said the elder girl; and there was something in her tone that made me shrivel. “I needn’t ask if you had a pleasant journey, Miss Earle. If you’re ready, we can start: the cart will bring your luggage.” We all went out to a big blue motor, manned by a chauffeur who came up to all Madge’s forecasts; and whisked away along a winding road fringed with poplar-trees and hawthorn hedges.
Mr. Atherton made gallant attempts to include me in the conversation, but there was a weight on my spirits, and I gave him back monosyllables: I hope they were polite ones. The girls did not worry about me at all. They chatted in a disjointed fashion, but I was quite ignored. This, I realized, was the proper status of “a cat” at The Towers; probably a shade more marked in my case, because I was a young cat, and had sinned. Deeply did I regret that a friend of the family should have hurtled into my carriage: bitterly I repented that welcome cup of tea. It seemed ages, though it was really less than ten minutes, before we turned into a big paddock, where, half a mile ahead, a grey house showed among the box-trees fringing a hill.
We skimmed up a long drive, skirted a wide lawn where several people were having tea under a big oak, and stopped before the hall-door. A short, thick-set youth in a Trinity blazer, who was tormenting a fox-terrier on the veranda, uttered a shout of welcome and precipitated himself upon Mr. Atherton, who thumped him affectionately on the back. Then there came racing through the hall a boy and girl of twelve and fourteen, ridiculously alike; and beneath their joyful onslaught the guest was temporarily submerged. Nobody took the slightest notice of me until a tall angular woman in a tailor-made frock came striding along the veranda, and, after greeting her son’s friend, glanced inquiringly in my direction.