Part 13 (2/2)

When, within the next three days, Ruth received a note from Lady Dromard inviting them all to dinner at a very early date, she did not fail to prod Erskine as he deserved. But her thrust was not malignant; nor did she give vexatious vent to her own triumph, which was considerable.

”You are a very clever man,” she merely told him, and with the relish of a wife who can say this from her heart; ”but you see, you're wrong for once. Lady Dromard _did_ mean what she said. She wants us all to dine there on Friday evening, when, as it happens, we have no other engagement; and really I don't see how we can refuse.”

”You mean that you would like to get out of it if you could?” her husband said.

”You don't need to be sarcastic,” remarked Ruth with a slight flush.

”Who wants to get out of it?”

”I thought perhaps you did, my dear; to tell you the truth, I rather hoped so.”

”You don't want to go!”

”I can't say I jump.”

Ruth colored afresh.

”I have no patience with you, Erskine! n.o.body is dying to go; but I own I can't see any reason against going, nor any excuse for stopping away; and considering what you yourself said about going to the garden party, dear, I must say I think you're rather inconsistent.”

Holland gazed down into the flushed, frowning face, that frowned so seldom, and flushed so prettily. Always an undemonstrative husband, very properly he had been more so than ever since others had been staying in the house. But neither of those others was present now, and rather suddenly he stooped and kissed his wife.

”There is no reason, and there would be no excuse; so you are quite right,” he said kindly. ”It's only that one has a const.i.tutional dislike to being taken up--and dropped. I have visions of all that. I'm afraid Mrs. Willoughby has poisoned my mind; we will go, and let us hope it'll prove an antidote.”

They went, and that dinner party was not the formidable affair it might have been; as Lady Dromard herself said, most graciously, it was not a dinner party at all. Ten, however, sat down, of whom four came from the rectory; for Herbert had been over to practice at the nets, and was fairly satisfied with his treatment on that occasion, which accounted for his presence on this. The only other guests were an inevitable divine and his wife. The earl was absent. As if to conserve Christina's impression of the old clothes in which, as the natives said, his lords.h.i.+p ”liked himself,” Earl Dromard had left for London rather suddenly that morning. Lord Manister filled his place impeccably, with Ruth at her best on his right. Herbert was less happy with Lady Mary Dromard, a very proud person, who could also be very rude in the most elegant manner. But Christina fell to the jolliest scion of the house, Mr. Stanley Dromard; and this pair mutually enjoyed themselves.

Young in every way was the Honorable Stanley Dromard. He had just left Eton, where he had been in the eleven, like his brother before him; he was to go into residence at Trinity in October. With a quantum of gentlemanly interest he heard that Miss Luttrell's brother was also going up to Cambridge next term; but not to Trinity. Said Mr. Dromard, ”Your brother's a bit of a cricketer, too; he came over for a knock the other day; he means to play for us next week, if we're short, doesn't he?” Christina fancied so. Mr. Dromard said ”Good!” with some emphasis, and Herbert's name dropped out of the conversation. This became Anglo-Australian, as it was sure to, and led to some of those bold comparisons for which Christina was generally to be trusted; but the bolder they were, the more Mr. Dromard enjoyed them, for the girl glittered in his eyes. He was a delightfully appreciative youth, if easily amused, and his laughter sharpened Tiny's wits. She shone consciously, but yet calmly, and made a really remarkable impression upon her companion, without once meeting Lord Manister's glance, which rested on her sometimes for a second.

So the flattering attentions of young Dromard were not terminated, but merely interrupted, by the flight of the ladies. When the men followed them to the drawing room the younger son shot to Miss Luttrell's side with the fine regardlessness of nineteen, and furthered their friends.h.i.+p by divulging the Mundham plans for the following week. The cricket was to begin on the Tuesday. The men were coming the day before: half the Eton eleven, Tiny understood, and some older young fellows of Manister's standing. The first two were to be two-day matches against the county and a Marylebone team. The Sat.u.r.day's match would be between Mundham Hall and another scratch eleven, ”and that's when we may want your brother, Miss Luttrell,” added Mr. Dromard, ”though we _might_ want him before. Our team has been made up some time, but somebody is sure to have some other fixture for Sat.u.r.day.”

”I think he may like to play,” said Christina.

Mr. Dromard seemed a little surprised.

”It's a jolly ground,” he remarked, ”and there will be some first-rate players.”

”I am sure he would like a game on your ground,” Christina went so far as to say.

”Do you dance, Miss Luttrell?” asked the young man, after a pause.

”When I get the chance,” said Christina.

He gazed at her a moment, and could imagine her dancing--with him.

”Suppose we were to do something of the kind here one evening between the matches; would you come?”

”If I got the chance,” said Christina.

Dromard considered what he was saying. ”We ought to have a dance,” he added in a doubtful tone, as though the need were greater than the chance; ”we really ought. But I don't suppose we shall; nothing is arranged, you see.”

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