"Luncheon ought to be ready," he reminded me presently. I could
actually hear the grin in his voice.
"All right," said I. "I'm hungry." Which was a lie. Then, as we
turned toward the house, Thusis drove into the yard.
Blue ribbons fluttered from her whip, from the fat horse's head-stall,
from his braided tail. There were bows of blue ribbon on her peasant's
apron, too, which danced saucily in the wind. I went over to aid her
descend from the cart, but she laughed and jumped out with a flash of
white stockings and blue garters.
"I've been wondering," said I, "why you were so long."
"Were you worried?"
The demurely malicious glance she flung at me became a laugh. She
turned to Smith:
"Did he think somebody might kidnap his young and silly housekeeper?"
she inquired. "Pas de chance! I am horridly wise!"--she touched her
forehead with the tip of one finger--"and a thousand years old!"--she
laid one hand lightly over her heart. And turned to me. "I am a
thousand years of age," she repeated, smiling. "Such as I are not
kidnapped, Monsieur O'Ryan. Au contraire. I myself am far more likely
to kidnap----"
She looked Smith gaily in the eye "--some agreeable young man--some
day." And very slowly her gray eyes included me.
Then she tossed the reins to Raoul who had come up beside the cart:
"A protean moment," she said to me, "and I shall reappear as a very
presentable waitress to wait upon you at luncheon."
And off went this amazing housekeeper of mine dancing lightly away
across the grass with the buckles on her little peasant slippers
twinkling and every blue ribbon a-flutter.