But Theodora spared her the trouble. Judith was finishing her lonely
dinner when the telephone rang. “I’m bringing my brother over to see
you. I told him you wanted some changes made in the living-room.” In
a muffled whisper she added: “Of course you didn’t; but I’ll explain.
We’ll be there in a minute.” Before she could reply, the receiver had
clicked into its hook, and the two were seen emerging from the house.
“Mrs. Ascott, this is Lary. It’s the lamp shade, the one on the newel
post--you know--that’s the colour of ripe apricots.”
She darted from the vestibule into the wide living-room, from which a
stairway ascended to the floor above, and turned on the light, although
the day was not yet gone.
“You don’t like it?” Larimore Trench, asked. “This colour scheme, I
know, is a bit personal.”
“Why, child, when did I say such a thing? I don’t recall discussing the
lamp shade with you.”
“I didn’t exactly tell him you said that you objected to it. I said I
_thought_ you did. You see, mamma told us at dinner that you agreed
with her in everything. And she has always said that for this room the
lamp shade must be rose pink.”
“I’m sorry to disagree with your mother, but I should not like rose
pink.”
“Mrs. Ascott,” Lary began, his clear brown eyes mock-serious, “I must
warn you that Miss Theodora Trench is a conscienceless little fibber.
It isn’t her only fault, but it is her most serious one.”
“Lary! To think of _you_--giving me a black eye, right before Lady
Judith! When I haven’t had a chance to make good with her. If mamma or
Eileen.... But _you_!”
“I couldn’t make either of them any blacker than they already are,
dearie. And I didn’t mean to humiliate you. But you mustn’t begin by
fibbing to Mrs. Ascott.”
She hung her head, crimson blotches staining the sallow cheeks. After
a moment she looked up, and the angry fire had been extinguished by
shining tears.
“I guess it’s better this way. Now Lady Judith knows what kind of a
family we are. You can’t get disappointed in people if you know the
worst of them first.”
V
It transpired that within the Trench home the new tenant had already
been established as “Lady Judith,” a name which Theodora afterward
explained, with documentary and graphic evidence to substantiate her
none too credible word. A long time ago Lary had given her a book of
fairy tales, the heroine of which was Lady Judith Dinglewood--beloved
of all the bold knights, but destined for the favour of the king’s son.
Lary had adorned the title-page with a miniature of the beautiful lady,
and had added a colophon showing her in the robes of a royal bride.
Theodora could recite every word of the romantic tale before she was
old enough to read. She had gone to sleep with that book in her arms,
as Sylvia had insisted on taking her best wax doll to bed. The moment
she espied the name, Judith Ascott, on the lease that Griffith Ramsay
had signed, she decided that her Lady Judith had come true.
It mattered little that the new occupant of the name bore not the
slightest resemblance to the two little water colour drawings. Lary
could paint a new Lady Judith, now that he knew what she really looked
like. It was not his fault that he had made the eyes black. He had to
do that, to appease mamma and Sylvia--whose standards of beauty were
rigidly fixed. But eyes that could be blue or grey, or flecked with
brown, as they were this evening.... How much more interesting than
eyes that were always the same colour! The hair, in that new picture
which Lary must paint, would be pale chestnut, with golden glints where
the light fell on it. And the mouth--the sweetest mouth! She told Lary
about it as they went home, through the close dark of a wonderful
spring night. Had he noticed Mrs. Ascott’s mouth? He had.