Chapter Twenty One.
A Musical Evening.
Pixie had recovered her spirits by the time that the flat was reached, but the invalid was discovered in a distinctly “grumpy” mood. Like many enforced stay-at-homes, his unselfishness bore him gallantly over the point of speeding the parting guests, and expressing sincere good wishes for their enjoyment. But the long, long hours spent alone, the contrast between their lot and his own, the rebellious longing to be up and doing, all these foes preyed upon the mind, and by the time that the voyagers returned, a cool, martyr-like greeting replaced the kindliness of the farewell, which was sad, and selfish, and unworthy, but let those suspend their judgment who have never been tried!
“Really? Oh! Quite well, thank you. Did you really?” ... The cold, clipped sentences fell like ice on the listeners’ ears, and Pixie, going out of the room, turned a swift glance at Stephen Glynn, and wrinkled her nose in an expressive grimace. Somehow or other Stephen felt his spirits racing upward at sight of that grimace. There was a suggestion of intimacy about it, amounting even to confidence: it denoted a camaraderie of spirit which was as flattering as it was delightful.
Pat, as usual, recovered his good humour at the sight of food, and thoroughly enjoyed the simple but well-cooked meal, while Pixie and Stephen tactfully avoided the subject of their morning’s excursion. Time enough later on to describe the beauties of that Abbey service!
“Moffatt is going out this afternoon. A friend is to call for her and bring her back this evening. It will be a change for the creature,” announced Pixie when the meal was finished, and, meeting Pat’s eye, she added quickly, “I’ll make tea.”
“What about supper?” queried Pat sternly. “If there’s a meal in the week which I enjoy better than another it is Sunday night supper. What’s going to happen about it to-night?”
“’Deed I don’t know. Don’t fuss! It’s beyond me to think two meals ahead. There’s cold meat. ... I’ll rummage up something when it comes to the time.”
Pat turned gloomily to his friend.
“You’d better be off, Glynn. I asked you to stay for the day, but in view of unforeseen circumstances. ... Pixie evidently puts Moffatt’s pleasure before our food.”