“Quite a chilly wind. We are so very exposed and open in this house!” Rowena was saying in high, artificial tones. She hailed the arrival of tea with evident relief, and the conversation flowed on a trifle more easily when there was something definite to do; nevertheless both heaved sighs of joy as the sound of Dreda’s high, cheery voice was heard from without, and she entered the room by her mother’s side.
Guy Seton privately expected Rowena to follow Maud’s example and quietly disappear, so he admired all the more the pretty little air of dignity with which she stuck to her post and forced herself to take her natural part in the conversation.
“Plucky little girl! Stands to her guns, and won’t allow herself to run away,” he told himself approvingly, as he proceeded to unfold the object of his visit.
“We are arranging a small frolic for Friday in the shape of a paper-chase. Everybody within five miles is coming on horseback or bicycles, as suits them best, and we ought to have a good run. We start at eleven prompt from our gates, and return for a scramble luncheon at about two. I hope you will all come!”
His glance wandered from Dreda to Rowena—the first he felt sure would accept with enthusiasm; the latter he feared would politely refuse; but Rowena smiled again, her set meaningless little smile, and allowed a subdued murmur of thanks to mingle with Dreda’s rhapsodies. It was cleverly done, for without being in any way committed she had escaped drawing attention upon herself by a refusal; nevertheless as he met her eye, and held her limp, unresponsive hand in his at parting, Guy Seton felt more convinced than ever that whoever else might honour his paper chase, Miss Rowena Saxon would not be among the number!
He walked down the drive twirling his stick in a threatening manner, his face grim and set. It was bad luck indeed to make such a bad beginning with one of the prettiest and most attractive-looking girls he had ever met, and a near neighbour into the bargain. He had a momentary vision of Rowena spinning along on a bicycle, her fair face flushed with exercise, her sweet eyes alight with interest and excitement; and of a sudden it seemed a dull, senseless thing to fly over the country-side, with ordinary everyday neighbours and friends. How ordinary and everyday they seemed, when contrasted with Rowena’s stately young grace! And now she was prejudiced against him for ever, and at this very moment was probably denouncing her sister’s stupidity, and vowing never willingly to meet him again!
Rowena, however, was doing nothing of the kind. Calm and composed, she sat on beside her mother and Dreda, and declared that the idea of a paper-chase failed to attract her, and that she had no intention of tiring herself out, and running needless risks by riding breathlessly across country on so stupid and frivolous an aim! Mrs Saxon was both puzzled and disappointed, while Dreda expostulated in her usual violent fashion.
“Rowena, how mad! How idiotic! What are you raving about! What’s the use of grumbling and growling because there’s nothing to do, and no one to see you, and then the moment anyone appears—such a dear, too, with such sweet, twinkly eyes!—to behave like a cold-blooded frog, mincing your words, and looking as if you were made of ice, and then saying you won’t go, when it’s a chance of no end of fun, and seeing everyone there is to be seen! Idiotic!”
“Dreda! Dreda, dear, really is it necessary to be quite so violent?” Mrs Saxon shook her head in smiling reproach, and Rowena tilted her chin in air, but Dreda refused to be suppressed.
“Oh, mum, dear, let me speak as I like! We have to be so proper at school. You can’t say a word of slang while the govs. are about, and ordinary language is so tame. You can’t make a really good effect with ordinary words. Suppose I said to Rowena: ‘Your conduct, my dear, is inconsistent, with your sentiments as expressed in conversation,’ she wouldn’t mind a bit, but when I call her a frog she’s furious. Look how she’s wagging her head! You can always tell by that when she’s in a bait.”