Part 3 (1/2)

It was not as if he had been going in her direction; his way home was with me, so why on earth should he choose to go off with her? Are they lovers, or friends, or what? Why did he take no notice of her at first, then suddenly become so anxious for her society? It's not that I care a sc.r.a.p, but it seemed so rude! I've been as cross as two sticks all day.

Nothing annoys me more than to be disappointed in my friends!

Eleven o'clock. I was comfortably settled in bed when I suddenly remembered resolution number two. The real reason that I am annoyed is that I am conceited enough to think I am nicer than Rachel, and to want Mr Dudley to think so too. How horrid it looks written down! I believe it will do me heaps of good to have to look at plain truths about myself in staring black and white. Perhaps Lorna is right after all, and I have a greed for admiration! I'll turn over a new leaf and be humble from this day.

CHAPTER FIVE.

_July 15th_.

I was not in the least interested to know anything about what Will Dudley and Rachel Greaves talked about together, but I was anxious to find out if she had said anything to show him that I was really grown- up, instead of the child he thought me; so the next time we met I asked her plump and plain--

”What did you and Mr Dudley say about me the other morning?”

We were walking along a lane together, and she turned her head and stared at me in blank surprise.

”About you? The other morning? We--we never spoke of you at all!”

Then I suppose I looked angry, or red, or something, for she seemed in a tremendous hurry to appease me.

”We have a great many interests in common. When we lived in town we belonged to the same societies, and worked for the same charities. It is interesting to remember old days, and tell each other the latest news we have heard about the work and its progress.”

”Then you knew him before he came here? He is not a new friend?”

”Oh, no--we have known him for years. It was father who got him his present position.”

”And you like him very much?”

”Yes,” she said quietly. ”Isn't it lovely to see the hedges covered with the wild roses? I think they are almost my favourite flower--so dainty and delicate.”

”Nasty, p.r.i.c.kly things--I hate them!” I cried; for I do detest being snubbed, and she could not have told me more plainly in so many words that she did not choose to speak of Will Dudley. Why not? I wonder.

Was there some mystery about their friends.h.i.+p? I should not mind talking about anyone I know, and it was really absurd of Rachel to be so silent and reserved. I determined not to ask her any more questions, but to tackle Mr Dudley himself.

Two days after there was the garden party, where I knew we should meet.

He was bound to go, as it was on the estate where he was living, and I was to make my first formal appearance in society, in the prettiest dress and hat you can possibly imagine. Mother was quite pleased with me because I let her and Johnson fuss as much as they liked, and tie on my white veil three times over to get it in the right folds. Then I looked in the gla.s.s at my sweeping skirts, and hair all beautifully done up, and laughed to think how different I looked from Babs of the morning hours.

We drove off in state, and I was quite excited at the prospect of the fray; but I do think garden parties are dreadfully dull affairs! A band plays on the lawn, and people stroll about, and criticise one another's dresses, and look at the flowers. They are very greedy affairs, too, for really and truly we were eating all the time--tea and iced coffee when we arrived; ices, and fruits, and nice things to drink until the moment we came away. I don't mean to say that I ate straight on, of course, but waiters kept walking about with trays, and I noticed particularly what they were like, so as not to take two ices running from the same man. I had a strawberry, and a vanilla, and a lemon--but that was watery, and I didn't like it. I was talking to the hostess, when I saw Mr Dudley coming towards us, and he looked at me with such a blank, unrecognising stare that I saw at once he had no idea who I was.

Mrs Darcy talked to him for a moment while I kept the brim of my hat tilted over my face, then she said--

”Don't you know Miss Sackville? Allow me to introduce Mr Dudley, dear.

Do take her to have some refreshment, like a good man. I am sure she has had nothing to eat!”

I thought of the coffee, and the ices, and the lemonade and the sandwiches, but said nothing, and we sauntered across the lawn together talking in the usual ridiculous grown-up fas.h.i.+on.

”Lovely day, isn't it?”

”Quite charming. So fortunate for Mrs Darcy.”

”Beautiful garden, isn't it?”

”Charming! Such lovely roses!”