Mr Vanburgh’s couch was drawn up at its head, and Kitty Maitland sat at his side, bearing herself with that preternatural solemnity of manner which she invariably adopted along with her best dress and hat. A moment later Mrs Maitland and Gervase appeared from behind a tree, and the elders shook hands and murmured the meaningless speeches common to such occasions, while Kitty took an early opportunity of stepping to Chrissie’s side, and calling her attention to the splendours on the table in a series of awed and breathless whispers.
“Gold spoons! Venetian glass! It breaks if you look at it! I daren’t drink a drop out of those tumblers, and I’m so thirsty! Such cream! Such strawberries!—big as peaches, my love, and such lots of them. I feel like the Queen of Sheba. There’s no spirit left in me, it’s all so grand and gorgeous.”
“I like it. It suits me! I was born to splendour!” said Chrissie, with an air. “I call it awfully sweet of him to do the thing so well. But what a dreadful number of knives and forks! I shall never know which to use. I wish I had asked mother about it before we came, for I do so detest making mistakes. Before a butler, too—so humiliating! And yet I don’t want to refuse anything I can help!”
“Don’t refuse! Take all that comes, and crumble bread until you see how other people eat it. That’s my dodge when I go out to lunch with mother. I say, how do you like the nephew? Doesn’t he look ex-actly like the tailor’s advertisement that you see in the shop windows? I have never seen any man look like that before, and want to pinch him, to see if he is real. Do you suppose it’s possible to be so handsome, and yet as nice as if he were ugly, like Jim?”
“Jim! Jim ugly!” gasped Jim’s outraged sister furiously. “Gwendoline Maitland, you are raving! Jim is the best-looking man I know, and I’ll tell him the moment that he comes home that you said—”
“Jim won’t mind. I told him so myself last year. He asked how I liked his moustache, and I said it was ‘stubbly,’ and he said moral worth was better than brilliantine. There’s none of your nasty pride about Jim.”
Chrissie glared, but Kitty refused to be annihilated, and crinkled her nose in sauciest defiance, whereupon her companion stared into space with an expression of disdain. An onlooker would have concluded that a serious quarrel had taken place; but such small interludes were of common occurrence in the friendship of these two young women, and five minutes later they were pinching each other in the most amicable manner, and whispering, “Sit by me! Sit by me!” as if true happiness could not be enjoyed apart.
During the meal which followed there was ample opportunity of “crumbling bread,” for the Vanburgh cook had received instructions to eclipse himself for the young ladies’ benefit, and the succession of curious unknown dishes which he sent to table would have puzzled more experienced “diners out” than the members of the present party. A prettier scene could hardly be imagined than the table under the trees, with the green lawn sweeping away on either side, the foreign servants flitting to and fro, and the six girlish faces of the guests beaming with delighted approval. Elsie’s eyes grew large and dreamy, as she mentally rehearsed the most appropriate language in which to chronicle the event in her diary. Such expressions as “Arabian Nights entertainment,” “Green sward,” and “Princely Splendour,” figured largely in the description, which ran to an inordinate length, and still seemed to have left half the wonders untold.
Nan spoke little during the meal, but, like the proverbial parrot, noticed much. She noticed that, though the utmost courtesy was maintained between uncle and nephew, the elder man was evidently annoyed by the persistent nonchalance of the younger; and she had a shrewd suspicion that Gervase knew as much, yet did not trouble himself to rectify it. She noticed that, while Ned was depressed, Lilias’s mood was of the gayest and sweetest; and she noticed that Gervase noticed as much, and studied the lovers narrowly from his point of vantage across the table. She heard dear old Agatha discussing politics with her host, and quoting her father wholesale in her gallant attempt to be grown up and important; and she chuckled audibly over the two schoolgirls’ enjoyment of the fare. Then at last the meal was over, and she heaved a sigh of relief that all had passed off without catastrophe and with credit to the family. No one had broken the fragile glass, no one had betrayed a plebeian ignorance of the convenances, nor showed ill-bred surprise. They had examined the menu with an understanding air, as though every other name was not as Greek to their ears, and had refrained from any signs of approval more noticeable than pressures of feet under the table, and occasional sly joltings of elbows.
The two ladies stayed beside Mr Vanburgh, while