Part 41 (2/2)

”Is it the tomato incident that is making you cross?”

”I'm not cross.”

”Well, of course I can't contradict you, but, like the parrot, I can still think a lot.”

”I shouldn't if I were you. The unusual strain may hurt your brain.”

”Whew--as bad as all that, is it? No letter from Africa this mail, I suppose?”

Paddy preserved a contemptuous silence.

”Too bad,” said Basil.

”What's too bad?” said Paddy. ”Your last attempt at a joke?”

”The pater's getting anxious.” he went on without heading her. ”He's sitting in there,” nodding toward the surgery, ”strung up to an awful pitch of nervousness lest you should be blind with--er--well, we'll call it annoyance, and poison someone by accident.”

”Go away,” said Paddy.

”I've nowhere to go.”

”Go and look for a picture book to keep you quiet.”

”Don't be a silly kid, Paddy,” persuasively. ”What's the matter? I've a strong right arm you can command as you wish. Do you want someone hit?”

”No.”

”Well, let, me help anyway. I'll wrap up the bottles for you.”

She demurred, but he finally ensconced himself on a high stool beside her and presently talked her into a better humour, afterward going home with her, which was really rather kind of him after the manner of his reception.

Three days later, Paddy received a most affectionate letter from Doreen Blake, begging her to come to tea, as she was quite alone.

”Mother and Kathleen are slaying in Eastbourne,” she wrote, ”as Kathleen has been ill, and I had to remain in London because I had accepted so many invitations. Miss Wells is here to look after the house, but you and I can have a long, cosy chat all to ourselves. If you don't come I shall be dreadfully disappointed and hurt. I want to hear all about the dispensing and everything.”

As Doreen had always been Paddy's special chum, there was nothing unusual in Eileen being left out of the invitation, but Paddy tried to make it an excuse not to go. Her mother would not hear of it, however.

”I want you to go, dear,” she said, ”because I like Mrs Blake and Doreen and Kathleen very much, and if they are going to remain in town for the season it will be nice for you to go and see them sometimes while Eileen and I are away.”

It had been arranged that they two should go to Omeath and stay at the Parsonage for three months, leaving Paddy at the doctor's, and later on Paddy was to join them for her summer holiday, and Mrs Adair and Eileen to come back. This arrangement had been made owing to Eileen's ill-health and the doctor's advice that they should not remain in London all the summer, and as there was barely room for three visitors together at the Parsonage, they decided to go in detachments.

In the end Paddy gave in and accepted the invitation, and at half-past three on the appointed day presented herself at the Blakes' house in Cadogan Place. A butler ushered her in, in a lordly fas.h.i.+on, which Paddy afterward mimicked much to Eileen's and her mother's amus.e.m.e.nt, and she presently found herself alone in an enormous drawing-room, which seemed to her just a conglomeration of fantastic chairs and looking-gla.s.ses. A few seconds later there was a swish-swish outside and Doreen appeared. For one second the girls looked at each other with the unspoken question, ”Are you changed?” and then with little exclamations of delight they literally flew at each other.

”Paddy, this is just lovely!” exclaimed Doreen when they had finished embracing. ”I've been longing to see you for months.”

”Silk linings!” said Paddy, walking round Doreen quizzically. ”We are grand nowadays! If there's one thing I want more than another, it's to go swish-swish as I walk.”

”Nonsense!” said Doreen. ”I know better. You don't care a fig about it, and neither do I for the matter of that. It's as much Lawrence's fad as anyone's. When Kathleen and I go out with him he likes us to be lined with silk,” and she laughed merrily, adding, ”But what a swell you are, Paddy, and how pretty you have grown!”

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