Basil Carter was nothing at all, except a young gentleman of means. He was very keen to be a statesman, or a Member of Parliament, or whatever it is. He had tried to get in twice and had failed each time, but declared that the third time he meant to succeed. I hoped he would; though, for my part, I cannot see why anyone should wish to be a ridiculous M.P. I have met lots of them. They are most of them sillies, though some of them think themselves tin gods. I don’t know why. They only talk, and most of them cannot do that with decency. Nearly all the few things they do do they do all wrong, and had much better have left undone.
He has a most lovely yacht. He once took us all a cruise in it. I enjoyed it immensely, but the others did not. I do not understand how it is that some people are ill at sea; it seems so unnatural. Mamma always takes a private cabin, and is down in it before the boat starts, even when she is only crossing to Calais.
He is passionately in love with Audrey. I know it as a fact, because once he as good as told me so. But Audrey is a most difficult girl. She is imaginative if you like. I believe that she spends her time imagining herself the wife of a clever man, though what is her idea of cleverness is more than I can say. Several men, who are allowed to be not only clever in their own estimation, have asked her to marry, but she has invariably said no. Physically, she is disgracefully lazy, and loves to languish, but, mentally, she is sharp as a razor. No matter how clever the man may be who gets her, he will find that she is, at least, his match, and that he could not have had anyone more certain to help him in making his mark in the world. And she is so lovely, and in the very depths of her, deliciously sweet.
All the same, although they knew quite well what those two boys felt for them, and their own charms had been proved to be nearly irresistible over and over again, if they could only have guessed what had happened to me, neither Audrey nor Doris would have been quite easy in their minds as I descended the stairs with my most stately air—which was not saying much, for all the while I was longing to dance right down them—to welcome the approaching callers.
Directly I was in the drawing-room something tickled me again, so that I burst out laughing, and had to put up my hand to hide my blushes. What could it be that was about to happen? And at that moment there came a rat-tat-tat at the hall-door, and, presently, Jane was ushering in the visitors.
CHAPTER VII.
MISS NORAH RECEIVES TWO GENTLEMEN
Mr Purchase came first, with Mr Carter close on his heels. I stood about the centre of the room, as prim as you please, just wondering. Each of them had some flowers in his hand, Mr Purchase red roses, and Mr Carter pink. Somehow those young men scarcely ever came to the house without bringing roses. No matter what the season, you might be almost positive that they would have, at any rate, half-a-dozen rosebuds. In their time Doris and Audrey must have had enough flowers to make a good-sized haystack. No one ever brings me any.
They came into the room with a sort of look of expectation on their faces. When they perceived me they gave a look round, and when they saw I was alone their expression changed entirely. It was comical. A friendly, free and easy smile took its place.
“Hullo, Norah!” exclaimed Mr Purchase. “Nobody here?”
It was not a very civil way of greeting one; but I knew that it was not intended to bear quite the construction which might be put on it. Both boys had a way of addressing me as Norah, especially when I was alone with them, though they always dignify the others with the prefix “Miss.” I observed that most men, when they condescended to notice me at all, were more than a trifle unceremonious in their fashion of speech. Often I did not altogether like it. It was not pleasant to hear a man speak to your sister as if she were a duchess, and then to you as if you were a mixture of a cousin and a housemaid. But somehow from these two I did not mind it so much as from others. It was, perhaps, because they always meant to be friendly, and were never actually rude.