As it happened, that was her first piece of luck in a luckless afternoon. The cart drew off to the left; Lady Tasker trailed after it; and suddenly it stopped before a high privet hedge with a closed green door in the middle of it. Lady Tasker did not look for the ivied chimney. On the door was painted in white letters “The Witan.” She was where she wanted to be.
Ordinarily Lady Tasker would have approved of the height of the privet hedge, which was seven or eight feet; that was a nice, reassuring, anti-social height for a hedge; but as it was she could not even put up her hand to the bell. The carter rang it for the pair of them. Over the hedge came the low murmur of voices and the clink of cups and saucers, and then the door was opened. It was opened by the mistress of the house. No doubt Mrs. Pratt had expected the cart, had heard its drawing up, and had not waited for a maid to come. Her eyes sought the carman, who had stepped aside. She spoke with some asperity.
“It’s Libertys’, isn’t it?” she said. “Well, I’ve a very good mind to make you take it back. It was promised for yesterday.”
“Can’t say, I’m sure, m’m.”
“It’s always the same. Every time I——”
Then she saw her visitor, and gave a little start.
“Why, it’s Lady Tasker! How delightful! Do come in! And do just excuse me—I shan’t be a minute.... Why didn’t this come yesterday? It was promised faithfully——”
She stepped outside to scold the carman, leaving Lady Tasker standing just within the green door.
The altercation was plainly audible:
“Very sorry, m’m. You see——”