Part 51 (1/2)

Miss Dearling said that she hoped so, too; later, when she got a moment alone with June she asked interestedly about the man to whom Esther was engaged.

”I do hope he is nice,” she said anxiously. ”Such a very charming girl! such a sweet-looking girl! Is he nice, my dear?”

June crossed the room and shut the door; then she turned round with a little grimace.

”He's a pig!” she said.

Miss Dearling screamed.

”Oh, my dear!”

”He is,” June maintained stoutly. ”She doesn't think so, of course, but he is, all the same.” She broke off as Esther came back.

Esther woke in the morning with a pleasurable sense of something going to happen. She lay still for a moment looking round her at the heavy, old fas.h.i.+oned furniture and flowered chintz curtains.

Miss Dearling's house was essentially Early Victorian, from its wool mats and stuffed birds in the sitting-room to the high four-posted bedsteads and faded Brussels carpets.

But there was something very old-world and charming about it too, in spite of rather ugly furniture, and Esther was just admiring the dressing-table, with its petticoat of spotted muslin and pink ribbons, when the door opened and June thrust her head round.

”Can I come in?” She did not wait for an answer, but came in, her long mauve silk kimono making a little rustling sound as she walked.

”I'm really dressed,” she explained, sitting down on Esther's bed.

”All but my frock, at least, and as the post has just come, and a letter from Micky, I thought I'd come and tell you that he'll be down to-day--after lunch, and he wants us to meet him. I can't go, as I've got a business appointment at three, so you must. He's going to drive up to the station and wait there for one of us to come and show him where we live.”

There was a little silence. Esther flushed beneath the elder girl's shrewd gaze.

”I should have thought he could have found out where we live,” she said rather awkwardly. ”And it's such a little way----”

June rose with a great show of dignity.

”Oh, very well, if you don't want to be obliging, but I do think you might....”

”Silly--of course I will.” Esther caught her hand. ”I'll go; the station at three o'clock, and then what am I to do? Bring him here, or what?”

”Do what you like, my child--I shan't be in till five. Don't let him be bored, that's all, or he'll go back to town--the one thing Micky cannot stand is being bored.”

Esther made a little grimace.

She felt nervous when at five minutes to three exactly she walked down the winding road to the station.

June ought to have come herself, she argued; it was a most silly thing to send her--she hoped he would not come at all; but all the time she was listening for the sound of a car or a motor-horn. The sleepy-eyed factotum of the station walked up and stared at her curiously. After a few turns he ventured to ask if she wanted to go by train.

”No, I'm waiting for a gentleman--I--oh, here he is.”

”'Twas her young gentleman for sure,” the sleepy-eyed one told his colleague afterwards. ”She blushed up like a rose when she saw him.”

Micky noticed that blush, too, as he turned the car with a fine sweep and came to a standstill.

Esther greeted him with a torrent of explanation.