Two days later Mr Farrell returned Trix's letters with a brief "Thank
you!" which Mollie had enough tact to receive without remark. She was
not conscious of having gained in the old man's graces, though Ruth was
sadly conscious of having fallen from favour. Victor was evidently for
the time being the _persona grata_, his remarks being received with
attention, and his wishes carefully carried out.
Mollie confessed to herself that Victor's manners were perfect where his
host was concerned, and wondered why it was that she found herself
constantly suspecting his motives. What if he were playing a part to
win the old man's favour? Was it not the unhappy feature of the
situation that they were all, more or less, doing the same thing?
Meantime, callers arrived daily. Stout, middle-aged matrons, with
pompous manners; thin matrons, precise and formal of speech; tall
elegants, with flowing robes and Parisian millinery; sporting-looking
women, with short skirts and motor-caps. One after another they drove
up to the door and sat for a few moments in the drawing-room, going
through the same stereotyped conversation: "How pleasant to have the
Court opened once more! How do you like Raby? How delightful to have
such delightful summer-like weather!" Then they drank a cup of tea,
nibbled a piece of cake, and said: "_Good_-afternoon! _So_ pleased to
have met you! We shall hope to see you again _very_ soon!"
Occasionally the matron brought a daughter in her train, and still more
occasionally a shy, depressed-looking husband; but at the best of times
the calls were not cheerful occasions, and Ruth and Mollie looked
forward with little pleasure to paying their return visits.
"Though it must at least be more interesting than receiving at home, for
we shall see other people's houses, and the way they arrange their
drawing-rooms. I do love studying strange drawing-rooms!" said Ruth
meditatively. "In country houses they ought to be charming--all chintzy
and smelling of pot-pourri! All the same, Mollie, I'm disappointed in
the neighbours. They aren't a bit thrilling, as we expected."
"People generally seem uninteresting at first. They may turn out to be
perfect darlings, when we know them better. I dare say they drove away
saying the same thing of us, for we behaved like a couple of
marionettes, sitting dressed up in our best, saying, `Yes, indeed!'
`No, indeed!' `Very much, indeed!' `Thank you so much!' as if we were
wound up by machinery. We must really launch out, and say something a
trifle more original!"
It was quite an exciting occasion when the girls set out on their first
calling expedition. It was an ideal May afternoon, and the prospect of
driving over the countryside in an open carriage, behind two prancing
horses, was in itself a delight.
Victor was to make one of the party, but Jack refused contemptuously to
accompany them if only for the drive, declaring that even a sprained
ankle had its silver lining if it let him off so boring a function. He
was sitting in the hall, waiting to cheer--or more strictly speaking, to
jeer--the departure, when Ruth came downstairs buttoning her gloves,
and, to her surprise, Mr Farrell was also present.
Both men looked up critically as she appeared, but neither glance was
altogether approving. Her new dress looked too old and staid for so
young a girl; moreover, her expression was fretful and worried. As she
reached the spot where the two men were seated, Victor came into the
hall from the doorway and looked round impatiently.
"Are you ready, Miss Ruth? The carriage has been waiting for some time
now."
"Oh, I have been ready for ages! It's Mollie who is the laggard. She
has been dressing ever since lunch, and is dressing still. I don't know
when she will be finished."
Mr Farrell turned imperiously to the butler.
"Be kind enough to send a message to Miss Mary that I object to having
the horses kept waiting. Three o'clock was the hour arranged, and it is
already a quarter past. Ask how soon she will be ready!"
The man departed, and there was an uncomfortable silence for several
minutes, broken at last by the banging of a door and the sound of racing
footsteps. A white-and-blue vision came flying down the staircase, with
filmy skirts floating behind, white feathers drooping over the golden
hair, a cobweb parasol unfurled, and held triumphantly aloft.
"I'm sorry! It took such ages to fasten, and I had to take my hair down
and do it up again to get the hat at the right angle. I wanted to
fasten my gloves, to give you the whole effect, parasol and all.
There!" Mollie strutted to and fro, turning her head from side to side
like a sleek, self-satisfied pigeon. "How do you like it? Don't you
think I look rather--nice?"