“You have been out alone, I suppose?” he remarked.
“Apparently,” interposed the married sister, “you are not aware that there has been a most wonderful thaw during the night, and that there is now a thick mist.”
The weather was not the only thing affected by the change. After breakfast, folk stood about in the corridor examining the notices there with a doleful expression. “Rink Closed” stood out in definite capital letters, and eyes turned from the stern announcement to gain some comfort from the slips which recorded loss of decorative articles. A few proclaimed intention of devoting the morning to sending postcards, and to the clearing off of arrears in correspondence, and stalked resolutely up to the drawing-room; others went to see if they could induce the concierge to make a cheerful prophecy concerning the weather, returning with the news that the official, discouraged by failure, refused to hold out anything that looked like hope. One or two inspected time tables and talked of going back to Lausanne.
“Why don’t you suggest something, Mr. Masterson?”
“Wish I had the necessary intelligence, Miss Rodgers. Is there anything we can arrange indoors, I wonder, to make the time go quickly whilst the weather is sorting itself? Think of something that you’re good at!”
“If you possessed a memory,” retorted the girl warmly, “you would recollect that I distinctly told you—”
The lady with the very fresh complexion interposed, with an apology. Would Mr. Masterson give her three minutes of his time in a corner of the vestibule? Masterson looked at the girl for directions, but she turned away, and he followed the other obediently.
Great mystery surrounded the ball-room, and especially the stage of the ball-room, that day, with janitors at doors, asking those who arrived: “Excuse me, but are you taking part?” and when a negative answer was given, adding: “Then will you kindly stay outside, please?” The pianoforte could be heard being played with the soft pedal down, and a sound came of choruses; occasionally, the voice of the made-up lady crying: “Oh, that’s not a bit like it!” and “We must try the first act all over again!” and “Do take up your cues smartly, please!”
At lunch she escorted Masterson into the dining-room, conveying him past the chairs occupied by Miss Rodgers and the married sister, and induced him to sit beside her during the meal. The doyen of the guests rapped three times on the table between the veal and the chicken course, and made an announcement. Volunteers were required to sing in the church choir. A bracelet had been found on the billiard table. To-morrow evening there would be a theatrical entertainment in the ball-room under the joint superintendence of Miss Ellicott and Mr. Masterson. Ladies willing to sing in the chorus were requested to communicate immediately with Mr. Masterson. The doyen sat down; the buzz of conversation recommenced.
Masterson, note-book in hand, stood at the doorway when the meal was over, taking names. As Miss Rodgers and her sister came near, he looked up inquiringly, but the girl stared at him in a distant manner, and went past, ignoring the half-completed question which he put to her; Masterson gazed after them with the abashed look of one who has discovered that he does not fully understand women, and to the next offer replied, rather brusquely, that the list was now complete. He proceeded to the ball-room and gave up the afternoon to rehearsal, interspersed with gusty arguments with the leading lady. Outside, the rain came down in a quiet, orderly manner, as though it were doing exactly what was required, and the concierge went about assuring visitors that the fault was not his.