Part 51 (1/2)

He might have got out and picked her up, but he was glad to manoeuvre about, reversing and making intricate figures in the dust, because it kept him longer away from the luncheon-table. The cat took no notice of him, but continued to deal with her whiskers even when his front wheel was within two inches of her tail, for though she hadn't been long at The Open Arms she had already sized up Mr. Twist and was aware that he wouldn't hurt a fly.

Thanks to her he had a lot of trouble getting the Ford into the stable, all of which he liked because of that luncheon-table; and having got it in he still lingered fiddling about with it, examining its engine and wiping its bonnet; and then when he couldn't do that any longer he went out and lingered in the yard, looking down at the cat with his hands in his pockets. ”I must think,” he kept on saying to himself.

”Lunchee,” said Li Koo, putting his head out of the kitchen window.

”All right,” said Mr. Twist.

He stooped down as though to examine the cat's ear. The cat, who didn't like her ears touched but was prepared to humour him, got out of it by lying down on her back and showing him her beautiful white stomach. She was a black cat, with a particularly beautiful white stomach, and she had discovered that n.o.body could see it without wanting to stroke it.

Whenever she found herself in a situation that threatened to become disagreeable she just lay down and showed her stomach. Human beings in similar predicaments can only show their tact.

”Nice p.u.s.s.y--nice, nice p.u.s.s.y,” said Mr. Twist aloud, stroking this irresistible object slowly, and forgetting her ear as she had intended he should.

”Lunchee get cold,” said Li Koo, again putting his head out of the kitchen window. ”Mis' Bilton say, Come in.”

”All right,” said Mr. Twist.

He straightened himself and looked round the yard. A rake that should have been propped up against the tool-shed with some other gardening tools had fallen down. He crossed over and picked it up and stood it up carefully again.

Li Koo watched him impa.s.sively from the window.

”Mis' Bilton come out,” he said; and there she was in the yard door.

”Mr. Twist,” she called shrilly, ”if you don't come in right away and have your food before it gets all mushed up with cold I guess you'll be sorry.”

”All right--coming,” he called back very loud and cheerfully, striding towards her as one strides who knows there is nothing for it now but courage. ”All right, Mrs. Bilton--sorry if I've kept you waiting. You shouldn't have bothered about me--”

And saying things like this in a loud voice, for to hear himself being loud made him feel more supported, he strode into the house, through the house, and out on to the verandah.

They always lunched on the verandah. The golden coloured awning was down, and the place was full of a golden shade. Beyond it blazed the garden. Beneath it was the flower-adorned table set as usual ready for four, and he went out to it, strung up to finding the Annas at the table, Anna-Felicitas in her usual seat with her back to the garden, her little fair head outlined against the glowing light as he had seen it every day since they had lived in the inn, Anna-Rose opposite, probably volubly and pa.s.sionately addressing her.

And there was no one.

”Why--” he said, stopping short.

”Yes. It's real silly of them not to come and eat before everything is spoilt,” said Mrs. Bilton bustling up, who had stayed behind to give an order to Li Koo. And she went to the edge of the verandah and shaded her eyes and called, ”Gurls! Gurls! I guess you can do all that talking better after lunch.”

He then saw that down at the bottom of the garden, in the most private place as regards being overheard, partly concealed by some arum lilies that grew immensely there like splendid weeds, stood the twins facing each other.

”Better leave them alone,” he said quickly. ”They'll come when they're ready. There's nothing like getting through with one's talking right away, Mrs. Bilton. Besides,” he went on still more quickly for she plainly didn't agree with him and was preparing to sally out into the sun and fetch them in, ”you and I don't often get a chance of a quiet chat together--”

And this, combined with the resolute way he was holding her chair ready for her, brought Mrs. Bilton back under the awning again.

She was flattered. Mr. Twist had not yet spoken to her in quite that tone. He had always been the gentleman, but never yet the eager gentleman. Now he was unmistakably both.

She came back and sat down, and so with a sigh of thankfulness immediately did he, for here was an unexpected respite,--while Mrs.

Bilton talked he could think. Fortunately she never noticed if one wasn't listening. For the first time since he had known her he gave himself up willingly to the great broad stream that at once started flowing over him, on this occasion with something of the comfort of warm water, and he was very glad indeed that anyhow that day she wasn't gagged.

While he ate, he kept on furtively looking down the garden at the two figures facing each other by the arum lilies. Whenever Mrs. Bilton remembered them and wanted to call them in, as she did at the different stages, of the meal,--at the salad, at the pudding--he stopped her. She became more and more pleased by his evident determination to lunch alone with her, for after all one remains female to the end, and her conversation took on a gradual tinge of Mr. Bilton's views about second marriages. They had been liberal views; for Mr. Bilton, she said, had had no post-mortem pettiness about him, but they were lost on Mr. Twist, whose thoughts were so painfully preoccupied by first marriage.