Part 21 (2/2)

”I'm not late,” she announced with great innocence. ”The gong hasn't stopped.”

Doctor Hilary, who was facing the door, looked at her. He saw a small, elf-like girl in a very s.h.i.+mmery green frock. The green enhanced her elf-like appearance.

”Deceiver,” laughed Pia. ”We heard you quite, quite distinctly.”

Obviously caught, Trix echoed the laugh.

”Well, anyhow I'd have been in before the echo stopped,” she announced.

They went informally into the dining-room, where the light of shaded wax candles on the table mingled with the departing daylight, for the curtains were still undrawn.

”I like this kind of light,” remarked Trix, as she seated herself.

Trix almost always thought aloud. It meant that conversation in her presence seldom flagged, since her brain was rarely idle; though she could be really marvellously silent when she perceived that silence was desirable.

”Do you know this garden?” she said, addressing herself to Doctor Hilary, by whom she was seated.

He a.s.sented.

”Well, isn't it lovely? That's what made me nearly late,--going round it again. I've been round five times since yesterday. It's just heavenly after London. Roses _versus_ petrol, you know.” She wrinkled up her nose as she spoke.

”You ought to see the gardens of Chorley Old Hall, Miss Devereux,” said Father Dormer. ”Not that I mean any invidious comparison between them and this garden,” he added, with a little smile towards the d.u.c.h.essa.

”Chorley Old Hall,” remarked Trix. ”I used to go there when I was a tiny child. There was a man lived there, who used to terrify me out of my wits, his eyes were so black. But I liked him, when I got over my first fright. What has become of him?”

”He died a short time ago,” said the d.u.c.h.essa quietly. ”Oh,” said Trix regretfully. Possibly she had contemplated a renewal of the acquaintances.h.i.+p.

”He'd been an invalid for a long time,” explained the d.u.c.h.essa. She was a little, just a trifle anxious as to whether the conversation might not prove embarra.s.sing for Doctor Hilary. There was a feeling in the village that the journey, which Doctor Hilary had permitted--some, indeed, said advocated--had been entirely responsible for the death.

But Doctor Hilary was eating his dinner, apparently utterly and completely at his ease.

”Anyhow the gardens aren't being neglected,” said Father Dormer. ”They've got a new under-gardener there who is proving rather a marvel in his line. In fact Golding confesses that he'll have to look out for his own laurels. He's a nice looking fellow, this new man, and a cut above the ordinary type, I should say. I used to see him in church after Ma.s.s on Sundays at one time. But he has given up coming lately.”

”Really,” said the d.u.c.h.essa.

Trix looked up quickly, surprised at the intonation of her voice.

”Oh, he isn't a Catholic,” smiled Father Dormer. ”Perhaps curiosity brought him in the beginning, and now it has worn off.”

Trix was still looking at the d.u.c.h.essa. She couldn't make out the odd intonation of her voice. It had been indifferent enough to be almost rude. But, if it were intended for a snub, Father Dormer had evidently not taken it as such. Yet there was a little pause on the conclusion of his remark, almost as if Doctor Hilary and Miss Tibb.u.t.t had had the same idea as herself. At least, that was what Trix felt the little pause to mean. And then she was suddenly annoyed with herself for having felt it.

Of course it was quite absurd.

She looked down at her plate of clear soup. It had letters of a white edible substance floating in it.

”I've got an A and two S's in my soup,” she remarked pathetically. ”I don't think it is quite tactful of the cook.”

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