Lover or Friend Part 23

Kester is a mere boy; he cannot help his mother much yet.'

'Kester is nearly sixteen, and will soon be a man; he is already very thoughtful for his age. I am sure you will permit me to say that I already take great interest in him; he has a wonderful thirst for knowledge. I showed one of his translations to Dr. Ross, and he was quite struck by it. You know, Dr. Ross is a fine Greek scholar.'

Mrs. Blake seemed much impressed; she was evidently taken aback. She was generally so absorbed in her eldest son that she failed to give Kester his due. The boy was shy and retiring with her; very likely he felt himself unappreciated. Anyhow, it was certain that he sought sympathy from everyone but his mother; and yet, in her own way, she was kind to him.

Audrey was a little disappointed to find Michael so grave in his manner to her charming friend--for such she already considered Mrs. Blake.

Michael was generally so nice and genial with people; he did not seem in the least aware that he was talking to a pretty woman. In Audrey's opinion, he seemed disposed to pick holes in Mrs. Blake's words and to find matter for argument. Not that this would be apparent to anyone but herself; but then she knew Michael so well. She could always tell in a moment if he approved or disapproved of anyone. One thing was clear enough to her, that Mrs. Blake was not at her ease. She lost her gay fluency, and hesitated for a word now and then; and when they left the lake and walked towards the tennis-ground, and Cyril intercepted them, she gave him an appealing look to draw him to her side. But for once Cyril was blind to his mother's wishes. He shook hands with Captain Burnett, and then fell behind to speak to Audrey.

'Do you mean to say that you have finished your game already?' she asked, in some surprise.

'No, indeed; only Mrs. Fortescue discovered that it was late, and took her daughter away, and, of course, I could not beat them single-handed--Wheeler is a crack player--so we made up our mind to consider it a drawn game. You ought not to have thrown me over, Miss Ross,' dropping his voice; 'it was hardly kind, was it?'

'Would you have me play with you and neglect all my other guests?' she returned, smiling. 'I think you owe me some grat.i.tude for providing you with a partner like Gertrude Fortescue. She is one of our best players.'

'I would rather have kept the partner I had,' he replied, with unwonted obstinacy; 'even in tennis one prefers one's own selection. I played the first set far better.'

'I believe you are a little cross with me, Mr. Blake.'

'I!' startled by this accusation, although it was playfully made, and reddening to his temples; 'I have no right to take such a liberty. No man in his senses could be cross with you for a moment.'

'You are wrong. Michael is often cross with me.'

'Is he?' slackening his pace, and so compelling her to do the same, until there were several yards between them and the couple in front.

'Captain Burnett seems to me far too good-natured; I should have said there was not a spark of temper about him. I am rather hasty myself.'

'I am so glad you have warned me in time, Mr. Blake.'

'Why, do you meditate any special provocation?' Then, catching sight of her dimple, his own face relaxed. 'I see you are laughing at me. I am afraid I was not properly gracious to Miss Fortescue. I will make up for it on Thursday at the Charringtons', and ask her to play. You will be there?' with a note of anxiety in his voice.

'Oh yes; I shall be there, of course.'

'We must have one set together; you will promise me that?' and Cyril's dark eyes looked full into hers.

'Yes, certainly.' But Audrey blushed a little. She felt a sudden desire to hurry after the others; but her companion evidently held a different opinion.

'Do you know Mrs. Charrington has asked my mother to come too?'

'No, indeed; but I am so glad to hear it.'

'She was most kind about it: she has promised to call on her to-morrow.

My mother is so pleased. Does she not look happy, Miss Ross? She is so fond of this sort of thing--a dull life never suits her. She nearly moped herself to death at Headingly; we were all uncomfortable there.'

'I think she will get on with the Rutherford people.'

'Indeed I hope so. Miss Ross, do you know, I am so vexed about something my mother said the other afternoon, when Mrs. Ross and Mrs. Harcourt were calling on her.' And as Audrey looked mystified, he went on slowly: 'She actually told them that she would accept no evening engagements, and that she hoped no one would invite her to dinner.'

'Oh yes, I remember.'

'I am afraid they must have thought it very strange. I tell my mother that she is far too frank and outspoken for our civilised age, and that there is not the slightest need to flaunt our poverty in our neighbours'

faces.'

Cyril spoke with an air of unmistakable annoyance, and Audrey good-naturedly hastened to soothe him. Her fine instinct told her that his stronger and more reticent nature must often be wounded by his mother's indiscreet tongue.

'I am afraid you are a little worldly-minded, Mr. Blake. I consider your mother was far more honest.'

'Thank you,' in a low tone; 'but all the same,' returning to his usual manner, 'it was premature and absurd to make such a statement. My mother has to do as I like,' throwing back his handsome head with a sort of wilfulness that Audrey thought very becoming, 'and I intend her to go out. Miss Ross, I am going to ask you a very odd question, but there is no other lady to whom I can put such an inquiry. Does it cost so very much--I mean, how much does it cost--for a lady to be properly dressed for the evening?'

Audrey did not dare to laugh, Cyril was so evidently in earnest; her nice tact guarded her from making such a grievous mistake.

'Your question is a little vague, Mr. Blake; I hardly know what I am to understand by it. Do you mean evening dress for one dinner-party or a succession of dinner-parties? You know they are perpetual in Rutherford; every house invites every other house to dinner. In Rutherford we are terribly given to dining out.'

'Oh, I see; and relays of gowns would be required,' returned Cyril in a dejected voice. 'I am afraid I must give it up, then. My mother would certainly not be able to afford that for the present.'

'But when one wears black, a change of dress is not so necessary,'

interrupted Audrey eagerly. 'If I were poor, I should not allow poverty to debar me from the society of my fellow-creatures, just because I could not make as great a display as other people. No, indeed; I would not be the slave of my clothes.'

'I can believe that,' with an admiring glance.

'I would have one good black dress--and it should be as nice as my means would allow--and I would wear it everywhere, and I would not care a bit if people looked as though they recognised it. "You are noticing my gown!" I would say to them. "Yes, it is an old friend. Old friends are better than new, and I mean to cling to mine. By and by, when I am a little richer, I will buy another."'

'Miss Ross, if my mother could but hear you!'

'Tell her what I say, and bid her do the same. Black suits her so perfectly, too.'

'Oh, she never means to wear anything else but black,' he returned gravely.

'Let her get a soft silk--a Surah, for example--and if it be made prettily and in the newest fashion, it will look well for a long time.

Yes'--reflectively--'Mrs. Blake would look well in Surah.'

'Would she? Do you mind telling me how to spell it?' and Cyril produced his pocket-book.

'S-u-r-a-h.'

'Thank you a thousand times, Miss Ross! And about the cost--would five pounds do?' looking at her anxiously.

'Oh yes, I should say that would do,' replied Audrey, who in reality knew very little about it.

Mr. Blake would have done better to have consulted Geraldine, she thought. Geraldine would have told him the price to a fraction of a shilling; she would have directed him to the best shop for making an excellent bargain. Geraldine had a genius for these practical things, whereas she--Audrey--was liable to make mistakes.

'I am sure five pounds will do,' she repeated, by way of encouragement; and again Cyril thanked her fervently.

There was no more opportunity for carrying on this interesting discussion, for the others were now standing quite still in the shrubbery walk, waiting for them to join them.

'My dearest boy, everyone has gone!' exclaimed Mrs. Blake, in a tone of dismay. 'The tennis-lawn is empty!'

'What does that matter?' replied Audrey, hastening up to her with a heightened colour, as she noticed a quick, observant look on Michael's part. 'We have no rule for our Mondays; people come when they like, and stay as long as they like.'

'But, still, to be the last to go, and this my first visit to Woodcote!'

rejoined Mrs. Blake uneasily. 'Cyril, you ought to have taken me away long ago.'