Mrs Vanburgh did not seem disposed to discuss her sister’s love affairs. She pointed to the next portrait, that of a dark, interesting-looking girl with hair parted down the middle and smoothed plainly down, in marked contrast to her sister’s curls and pompadours.
“That’s Elsie! She has views, and objects to being like the common herd. She writes articles for papers, not in them, abusing everything that is, and praising up everything that isn’t. Gervase, my husband, says she will do very well when she learns sense. She is a dear old raven, and I miss her croak more than you would believe. That’s Agatha. She’s just—Agatha! A good-natured dear, always terribly in earnest about the smallest thing. Christabel is the baby, which means the head of the family. She is coming out next year, and means to outshine us all. I will tell you lots of stories about the girls and the jolly times we had at home, and soon I hope you will meet some of them here. Sisters are such comforts, aren’t they?”
Betty mumbled an inarticulate something which might have been an assent or the reverse, and a servant entering with a tea-tray, the conversation turned to less personal topics. There was never any lack of anything to say, however, for, strangers as they were, the two girls chattered away without a break until the clock struck six, at which sound Betty leapt from her seat like another Cinderella, and turned hastily towards the door.
“Six! Oh, and I had Pam’s music-lesson at half-past five! How awful of me to forget! You were so interesting, and I was enjoying myself so much. I must fly!”
“It’s no use, I’m afraid. You can’t put the clock back. There’s one comfort—Pam will forgive you! That’s the little one, I suppose, with the kitten face. I must get to know her soon.”
Mrs Vanburgh tripped downstairs by Betty’s side, and shook hands with the geniality of a lifelong friendship.
“Remember Saturday!” she cried. “Three o’clock punctually, and bring all your stores of small talk with you, for the first half-hour.”
Betty ran across the darkened street and let herself into her own house, aglow with pleasurable excitement. Life looked quite a different thing in the last few hours, wherein a friend and a vocation had alike sprung into being. After all, it was a delightful old world! She would never grumble again, since at any moment such delightful surprises might arise.
The door swung open. How cold and grey the hall appeared after the glowing richness of Mrs Vanburgh’s carpets and hangings! Betty made a little grimace at the linoleum, and lifting her eyes was suddenly aware of a wrathful figure confronting her from the threshold of the dining-room—Jill, standing with arms akimbo, flushed cheeks, and flashing eyes.
“So you have deigned to come back, have you? What business had you to go to tea with her at all, I should like to know? She’s my friend! I knew her first! What right had you to go poking yourself forward?”