"My dear, I'm too heavy. Wait till my man--"
"Nonsense! I'm as strong as a horse. Who waits is lost. To the right,
please, General. Straight down this path, and into the herbaceous
garden. _Quite_ slowly, and keep a sharp eye between the branches."
He quite chuckled with delight. Viewed from the vantage ground of a
bath-chair, a Treasure Hunt was delirious excitement, but he _was_
heavy! I remembered a sharp upward curve some way further on, and had a
vision of myself pushing, with arms extended to full length, and feet at
a considerable distance between the arms, as I have seen small
nursemaids push pram-loads of fat twins. How undignified it would be if
I slipped half-way, and the chair backed over my prone body! Then, of
course, the thing happened which I might have been sure and certain
_would_ happen under the circumstances. We came face to face with Mr
Maplestone, and the General called out:--
"Hi, Ralph! There you are. Just the man we want. Miss Wastneys and I
are hunting. Come and give a hand."
"Oh, if you have the Squire, you won't need me. I'll go off on my own,"
I cried quickly; but it was no use, the old man wanted both, and both he
would have. The Squire was to push behind; I was to take the handle and
pull in front; he himself must be free to hunt, since he was
handicapped by old eyes. He issued orders with the assurance of a
Commander-in-Chief, and we listened and obeyed.
I started by feeling annoyed and impatient, but honestly, after the
first few minutes, it was great fun. The Squire was an abominable
pusher; first he pushed too little and left all the work to me; and
then, being upbraided, he pushed too hard and tilted me into a run; then
we changed places, and he took the wrong turnings, wheeled past plain
grass beds where nothing could possibly be hidden; then we _both_ took
the back, and the General peered from side to side, and saw nothing, and
grew discouraged, and sighed, and said his luck had gone. No treasures
for him any more!
I will say for Ralph Maplestone that he is sweet to that old man! He
treats him just in the right way, as deferentially as though he were in
full health and strength, a martial figure riding gloriously to
conquest! We cheered him up between us (I did it rather nicely, too!)
and became quite friendly in the process. Two people can't join in
pushing a bath-chair and remain _de haut en bas_. The thing is
impossible. I was most nice to Ralph Maplestone, and he appeared to be
nice to me.
Suddenly, in the middle of a bush, I saw a glint of brighter green, the
tissue-paper wrapping of a treasure, and instantly my fingers gripped
the chair. Mr Maplestone would have pushed on, but I frowned and
grimaced, and he looked and saw too, and we both puffed and panted, and
demanded a rest, during which I stood elaborately at one side of the
bush, and he stood at the other, so that the old dear could hardly miss
seeing the paper.
Even then I had to give, it a surreptitious push before discovery came;
but he had no suspicions, not one, and was as pleased as a boy at the
thought that his old eyes had been sharper than our young ones. We all
took a turn at opening the parcel, and it turned out to be a vanity bag,
fitted with a mirror and other frivolities, so of course it was
presented to me, and I arranged my hair in the mirror, and powdered my
nose with the puff, just to shock them, which, by the way, it fully
succeeded in doing.
"Girls didn't do that in my day!" croaked the General.
"_All_ girls don't do it now!" grunted the Squire.
"My dear, you look far nicer without it." This was the General's second
venture. I turned to the Squire and asked solemnly, "_Do_ I?" and he
gave one quick look, and then stared past me--through me--blankly into
space.
"I am no judge," he said curtly.
Well, let me be honest! It _was_ flirtatious of me, I knew it was, and
hurried to rub off the powder, and get back to my briskest, most
business-like manner. As we had paid three entrance fees, we were
entitled to a treasure apiece, if we could find them, and I insisted
upon keeping up the search to the very last moment. It amused the
General; it amused me; I honestly believe that it amused Mr Maplestone,
as far as he was capable of being amused. He was quite human; once or
twice, as we rushed after a "scent," he was even _lively_. I began to
think he might really be quite nice.
We found one other parcel--a box of cigarettes--and then made our way
back to the lawn, where the General's valet was waiting, and took over
the chair. Delphine came up to me and slipped her hand through my arm.
"Evelyn, you have managed beautifully, but you must be dead tired and
longing for tea. I'm going to stand over you and make you rest. Stupid
of Jacky to send the Squire to help you! You'd have been happier with
anyone else, but he's so dense, so in the clouds, that he doesn't notice
these things. Evelyn, isn't it strange how he dislikes you?"
"Who? Your husband?"
"Nonsense. No. You know quite well--Mr Maplestone. At first, of
course, one can understand he was prejudiced; but _now_! And when you
have been so nice!"
"Thank you for that. I'm glad you appreciate me. Why are you so sure
the Squire does not?"
"Because," she said imperturbably, "he tells me so!"
Curiosity is a terrible thing. It's bad enough when it concerns itself
about other people, but when it comes to oneself, it's ten times worse.
I _ached_ to ask, "When?" and "Where?" and "How?" and exactly in what
words Mr Maplestone's dislike had been expressed, but pride closed my
lips, and I would not let myself go. Of course I had known before, but
I had imagined that after the chair episode--What stings is not the
dislike itself, but the putting it into words to such a confidante as
Delphine. No, let me be honest; the dislike itself _does_ sting. I
have my own petty feminine craving, and it is to be liked, to have
people appreciate and approve of me, if they do nothing more. Even
indifference is difficult to bear, but _dislike_--Well, thank goodness,
I have lived in a warm-hearted country among warm-hearted people who
have loved me for my name if for nothing else. Really and truly, I
believe this ugly, red-headed man is the first person who has ever dared
to speak openly of dislike for Evelyn Wastneys!
I pity and despise him. I wouldn't have his approval if I could.
Henceforth I shall never think of him, nor mention his name. To me he
is dead. All is over between us before anything ever began! It is
finished. This is the end. The fete ended at nine o'clock, and
Charmion and I, with the other stall-holders, went into the vicarage to
enjoy a supper of scraps. As a rule I adore scrap suppers after
everyone has gone, and the servants have gone to bed, and the guests
make sorties into the pantry, and bring out plates of patties and fruit,
and derelict meringues, and wobbling halves of jellies and creams. They
taste so _good_, eaten in picnic fashion before the fire, with a
shortage of forks and spoons, and a plate as a lucky chance. But
somehow last night things didn't go! I think perhaps there were too
many "scraps" which should by rights have been sold and paid for in good
hard cash. The Vicar was full of hospitable zeal, and evidently enjoyed
pressing the good things upon his guests, but there was something in
Delphine's pale glance which checked merriment. She had had her fun,
the interest of planning, the excitement of playing hostess to the
country-side, the satisfaction of knowing herself to be the
best-dressed, most admired woman present, and of queening it over women
who had hitherto patronised herself. Poor little butterfly! she had
enjoyed her hour, but now the sun had gone down, and she was counting
the cost. The treasurer added up the coins handed in from the various
stalls and announced the total. There was a little pause.
"Ah!" said the Vicar slowly. "More than last year, but not so much as
we hoped. How will it work out, dear, after paying expenses?"
"Oh, Jacky, I'm _tired_! Can't we have supper in peace, before worrying
about money!" she cried pettishly.
Not another word was said.
When we were driving home, Charmion gave me a shock.
"I rather like Mrs Maplestone," she said dreamily. "She is stiff and
conventional, and it has never even occurred to her that anyone can
disagree with her views, and still have a glimmering of right, but, at
least, she is sincere. If one could burrow deep enough beneath the
surface, she'd be worth knowing."
"I don't like people who have to be burrowed. Life is too short. And I
am perfectly certain that I should shock her into fits. Personally, I
don't intend to take the trouble of excavating!"
"That's unfortunate, for she wishes to know you. She has invited us to
dinner next Wednesday to meet some friends."
"Charmion! You didn't accept?"
"Certainly I did. Wasn't it your express desire to be sociable, and to
know your neighbours?"
"Oh, not them--not there! It's pleasant knowing a few people, but one
is at liberty to choose. I think you might have consulted me!"
In the soft dusk she laughed, and stretched out a caressing hand.
"Tired, dear, and--cross? I thought you'd be pleased. Why and
wherefore? Tell me the truth?"
"Oh, don't be so tiresome, Charmion. Of course I am tired. I've been
on my feet all day long. Cross! Why should I be cross? Only--I don't
choose to accept hospitality from that man. I tell you plainly I won't
go."
She bowed her head, deliberately, once and again.
"Oh, yes, Evelyn, you will! I gave you your choice, and having made it
you will play fair. I should have preferred to remain peacefully at
Coventry, but having taken the first step at your request, I don't
propose to allow you to force me into society _alone_."
What could I say? What was it _possible_ to say? There is no way out
of it. I shall just have to go!