Lynette reappeared where the long walk ended in a little courtyard paved with red bricks, and surrounded by square-cut box hedges. She had finished her half-hour’s music lesson with Miss Vance, and was out again like a bird on the wing. Canterton had insisted on limiting her lessons to three hours a day, though his ideas on a child’s upbringing had clashed with those of his wife. There had been a vast deal of talking on Gertrude’s part, and a few laconic answers on the part of her husband. Now and again, when the issue was serious, Canterton quietly persisted in having his own way. He never interfered with her multifarious schemes. Gertrude could fuss here, there, and everywhere, provided she did not tamper with Lynette’s childhood, or thrust her activities into the serious life of the great gardens of Fernhill.
“Let’s go and have tea in the Wilderness.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll come, Miss Eve?”
She snuggled up to Eve, and an arm went round her.
“I’m afraid I can’t, dear, to-day.”
“Why can’t you?”
“I must go home and take care of my mother.”
Lynette seemed to regard this as a very quaint excuse.
“How funny! Fancy anyone wanting to take care of my mother. Why, she’s always wanting to take care of everybody else, ’cept me! I wonder if they like it? I shouldn’t.”