“I don’t know if you care for gardening. I’m mad about it myself. My garden is a child to me. I stand no interference. The gardeners are paid to obey me, and carry out my instructions. If they get upsetting, off they go. You’d like my garden. It is not cut out to a regulation pattern; it has a personality of its own. I have all my meals on the verandah in summer. We could get you some tennis, too. You wouldn’t be buried alive. Well? What do you say? Is it worth while?”
“It’s exceedingly kind. It’s awfully good of you. I—I am so completely taken by surprise that I hardly know—I shall have to think.”
“Nonsense, my dear; what is there to think about? You have no other engagement, and you need a change. Incidentally also I want a companion. You would be doing me a good turn as well as yourself. I’m sure your mother would wish it!”
No doubt about that! Claire smiled to herself as she realised how Mrs Judge would rejoice over the visit; turning one swallow into a summer, and in imagination beholding her daughter plunged into a very vortex of gaiety. She was still smiling, still considering, when Janet came strolling across the room, and laid her hand affectionately on Mrs Fanshawe’s shoulder.
“I haven’t had a word with you all afternoon! Such a rush of people. You had tea comfortably, I hope: and you, too—Claire!” There was just a suspicion of hesitation before the Christian name.
“I have just been asking Miss Gifford to take pity on my loneliness for part of August. She is not knee-deep in engagements, as you are, my dear, and that precious son of mine; so we are going to amuse each other, and see how much entertainment we can squeeze out of the countryside!”
“But I haven’t—I didn’t—I’m not sure,” stammered Claire, acutely conscious of the hardening of Janet’s face, but once again Mrs Fanshawe waved aside her objections.
“But I am sure! It’s all settled, my dear—all but the day. Put your address on this silly little tablet, and I’ll write as soon as I’ve looked over my dates. Now, Janet, I’m ready for a chat. Take me out to the balcony, away from this crowd.”
“And I must go, I think. I’ll say good-bye.” Claire held out her hand to the daughter of the house. “I hope you may have a delightful summer.”
“Oh, thanks so much. Oh, yes, yes, I’m quite sure I will,” Janet answered mechanically. She touched Claire’s hand with her fingers, and turned hastily aside.