Part 39 (1/2)

When Sir Francis and his wife joined the Windsor party, Lady Isabel exclaimed with satisfaction at her daughters' looks. ”Only a fortnight, and it's done such wonders for you both! Barbara was like a little, washed-out rag, and now she's quite blooming. You've got more colour too, Alex, darling, and I'm so thankful to see that you're holdin'

yourself rather better. Evidently country air and quiet was what you both needed.”

Nevertheless, Lady Isabel lost no time in issuing and accepting various invitations that led to luncheons, tennis-parties and occasional dinners with the innumerable acquaintances whom she immediately discovered to be within walking or driving distance.

It annoyed Alex unreasonably that her liberty should be interfered with thus by entertainments which afforded her no pleasure. She ungraciously conceded her place to Barbara as often as possible, and went off to seek the solitude of the chapel with an inward conviction of her own great unworldliness and spirituality.

Barbara showed plenty of eagerness to avail herself of the opportunities thus pa.s.sed on to her. She had sedulously cultivated a great enthusiasm for tennis, and by dint of sheer hard practice had actually acquired a certain forceful skill, making up for a natural lack of suppleness that deprived her play of any grace.

Her rather manufactured displays of enjoyment, which had none of the spontaneous vitality of little Pamela's noisy, bounding high spirits, were always in sufficient contrast to Alex' supine self-absorption to render them doubly agreeable to Sir Francis and Lady Isabel.

”I like to take my little daughter about and see her enjoying herself,”

Sir Francis would say, with more wistfulness than pleasure in his voice sometimes, as though wis.h.i.+ng that Barbara's gaiety could have been allied to Alex' prettier face and position as his eldest daughter.

It was only in his two sons--Cedric, with his sort of steady brilliance, and idle, happy-go-lucky Archie, by far the best-looking of the Clare children--that Sir Francis found unalloyed satisfaction.

Pamela was the modern child in embryo, and disconcerted more than she pleased him.

It was princ.i.p.ally to gratify Cedric that Lady Isabel arranged a tennis tournament for the end of the summer, on a hot day of late September that was to remain in Alex' memory as a milestone, unrecognized at the time, marking the end of an era.

”Thank Heaven it's fine,” piously breathed Barbara at the window in the morning. ”I shall wear my white pique.”

Alex shrugged her shoulders.

Neither she nor Barbara would have dreamed of inaugurating a new form of toilette without previous reference to Lady Isabel, and Barbara's small piece of self-a.s.sertion was merely designed to emphasize the b.u.t.terfly role which she was embracing with so much determination.

”Of course, you'll wear your pique. Mother said so,” Alex retorted, conscious of childishness. ”You've worn a pique at every tennis party you've been to.”

”Well, this is a new pique,” said Barbara, who invariably found a last word for any discussion, and she went downstairs singing in a small, tuneful chirp made carefully careless.

”Who is coming?” Alex inquired, having taken no part whatever in the lengthy discussions as to partners and handicaps which had engrossed Cedric and Barbara for the past ten days.

Cedric looked up, frowning, from the list on which he was still engaged.

He did not speak, however; but Barbara said very sweetly, and with an emphasis so nearly imperceptible that only her sister could appreciate it:

”Oh, n.o.body in whom you're at all specially interested, I'm afraid.”

Alex did not miss the implication, and coloured angrily.

”I'm going to play with that artist, the one staying with the Russells.

He isn't at all a good player,” said Barbara smoothly.

”Then why are you playing with him?”

Barbara smiled rather self-consciously. ”It would hardly do to annex the best partners for ourselves, would it?” she inquired. ”And we're trying to equalize the setts as far as possible. Cedric has to play with the youngest Russell girl, who's too utterly hopeless.”

”I shall take all her b.a.l.l.s,” said Cedric calmly, ”so it'll be all right. She doesn't mind any amount of poaching. We shall lose on her serves, of course, but that may be just as well.”

”Why, dear?” innocently inquired Lady Isabel.