'Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!' cried Mrs Inglethorp.
'It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, there's Cynthia!'
A young girl in VAD uniform ran lightly across the lawn.
'Why, Cynthia, you are late today. This is Mr Hastings--Miss Murdoch.'
Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life an vigour.
She tossed off her little VAD cap, and I admired the great loose waves of her
auburn hair, and the smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim
her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty.
She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed her a plate
of sandwiches she smiled up at me.
'Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer.'
I dropped down obediently.
'You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?'
She nodded.
'For my sins.'
'Do they bully you, then?' I asked, smiling.
'I should like to see them!' cried Cynthia with dignity.
'I have got a cousin who is nursing,' I remarked. 'And she is terrified of "Sisters".'
'I don't wonder. Sisters are, you know, Mr Hastings. They simply are! You've no
idea! But I’m not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the dispensary.'
'How many people do you poison?' I asked, smiling.
Cynthia smiled too.
'Oh, hundreds!' she said.
'Cynthia,' called Mrs Inglethorp, 'do you think you could write a few notes for me?'
'Certainly, Aunt Emily.'
She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me that her position
was a dependent one, and that Mrs Inglethorp, kind as she might be in the main, did
not allow her to forget it.
My hostess turned to me.
'John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We have given up late
dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, out Member's wife--she was the late
Lord Abbots-bury's daughter--does the same. She agrees with me that one must set
an example of economy. We are quite a war household; nothing is wasted here--
every scrap of waste paper, even, is saved and sent away in sacks.'
I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and up the broad
staircase, which forked right and left half-way to different wings of the building.
My room was in the left wing, and looked out over the park.
John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window walking slowly
across the grass arm in arm with Cynthia Murdoch. I heard Mrs Inglethorp call 'Cynthia'
impatiently, and the girl started and ran back to the house. At the same moment, a man
stepped out from the shadow of a tree and walked slowly in the same direction. He looked
about forty, very dark with a melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion seemed
to be mastering him. He looked up at my window as he passed, and I recognized him, though
he had changed much in the fifteen years that had elapsed since we last met. It was
John's younger brother, Lawrence Cavendish. I wondered what it was that had brought that
singular expression to his face.
Then I dismissed him from my mind, and returned to the contemplation of my own affairs.
The evening passed passed pleasantly enough; and I dreamed that night of that enigmatical
woman, Mary Cavendish.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and I was full of the anticipation of a
delightful visit.
I did not see Mrs Cavendish until lunch-time, when she volunteered to take me for a walk,
and we spent a charming afternoon roaming in the woods, returning to the house about five.
As we entered the large hall, John beckoned us both into the smoking-room. I saw at once
by his face that something disturbing had occurred. We follow him in, and he shut the
door after us.
'Look here, Mary, there's the deuce of a mess. Evie's had a row with Alfred Inglethorp,
and she's off.'
'Evie? Off?'
John nodded gloomily.
'Yes. You see she went to the mater, and--oh, here's Evie herself.'
Miss Howard entered. Her lips were set grimly together, and she carried a small
suit-case. She looked excited and determined, and slightly on the defensive.
'At any rate,' she burst out, 'I've spoken my mind!'
'My dear Evelyn,' cried Mrs Cavendish, 'this can't be true!'
Miss Howard nodded grimly.
'True enough! Afraid I said some things to Emily she won't forget or forgive in a hurry.
Don't mind if they've only sunk in a bit. Probably water off a duck's back, though.
I said right out: "You’re an old woman, Emily, and there's no fool like an old fool. The
man's twenty years younger than you, and don't you fool yourself as to what he married
you for. Money! Well, don't let him have too much of it. Farmer Raikes has got a very
pretty young wife. Just ask your Alfred how much time he spends over there." She was
very angry. Natural! I went on: "I'm going to warn you, whether you like it or not. That
man would as soon murder you in your bed as look at you. He's a bad lot. You can say
what you like to me, but remember what I've told you. He's a bad lot!"'