‘So that’s your idea of a picnic, is it?’ The question came from Miss Gaisford, who had come unperceived upon the two friends as they were leaning over the parapet of the bridge. ‘To bury yourself among the trees, eh,’ she went on, ‘and gloat over some dreadful pictures that nobody but a doctor could look at without shuddering? Allow me to tell you that you will be permitted to do nothing of the kind. You will just put your treatise in your pocket, and try for once to make yourself sociable. Perhaps, if you try very hard, you may even succeed in making yourself agreeable.’
‘My poor Mac!’ murmured the vicar as he settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose.
The doctor said nothing, but his eyes twinkled, and he pursed up his lips.
‘I have arranged my plans for both of you,’ said Miss Pen with emphasis.
‘For both of us!’ they exclaimed simultaneously.
‘Yes. Lady Renshaw’——
‘O-h!’ It was a double groan.
‘Don’t interrupt. Lady Renshaw will be here presently. As soon as she appears on the scene, you will take charge of her. I have special reasons for asking you to do this, which I cannot now explain. You will amuse her, interest her, keep her out of the way, and prevent her generally from making a nuisance of herself to any one but yourselves, till luncheon-time.’
‘My dear Pen,’ began the vicar.
‘My dear Miss Gaisford,’ pleaded the doctor.