She was one of nature's perfectly amoral and shameless triumphs--_la
femme courtisane_ flung out as rounded and complete as a golden bubble
on the wind of destiny.
The three women sat down together, and Sophy poured tea. Loring was out
motoring, but Sophy said that she expected him any minute. He had meant
to be back by the time they should arrive.
Belinda was quite composed at the idea of meeting Morris again. She had
schooled herself for this meeting. An admirable phlegm was hers, as she
sat stirring in the six lumps of sugar that she always put in her tea or
coffee; she loved sweets like a harem woman. Wisdom had come to her with
her eighteen years. She knew now that her "wisdom was to sit
still"--that this is the highest wisdom of a woman in love with a man
who is not in love with her. She was sure that she had subtler means of
"touching" Morris than by any outward show of feeling. That forceful
emanation which flowed like a thrice-rarefied scent from the girl's
personality, and which even Sophy had been aware of, was like the
infinitely volatilised aroma by which the female of the Emperor Moth
calls the males to her. Belinda thought it was her will. But it was the
will of Nature working through her.
Mrs. Horton and Sophy talked about the crossing and Grace's arthritis.
Belinda sat silent. She could be both silent and still at times with
beautiful completeness. Bobby came in. Harold Grey, his English tutor,
came with him. Sophy saw him blink as his eyes caught the shine of
Belinda. "I hope there won't be any nonsense there," Sophy reflected,
her mind already bent to the _chaperon's_ habit. She thought she saw now
why Morris was so apprehensive about having the care of Belinda during
her first season. Bobby made polite bows to the ladies, and shook hands
with them. Then he went and stood at his mother's knee. Harold Grey was
introduced and subsided modestly into the middle distance, but upon a
chair from whence he could observe Belinda's shining profile in a
mirror.
Bobby, meantime, gazed so earnestly at the girl that she spoke to him
about it. She did not care for children. But Bobby had a certain strong
masculinity even at seven that caught her attention.
"Well, young man," said she. "What's wrong with me--eh?"
"Nothing,", said Bobby succinctly.
"Then, why are you staring at me with such round eyes?"
"'Cause, if you don't mind, I like to."
Belinda gave her lovely grin which disclosed both rows of teeth. She had
"grown up to her teeth," as Mrs. Horton put it. And she knew how to
smile as well as grin. She had practised every variety of smile before
her mirror. But on Bobby she turned the full brightness of her old
hoyden grin. He grinned back, delighted.
"I say, youngster, you're beginning young, ain't you?" she asked. "Come
here and tell me why you 'like it.'"
Bobby went, nothing loath. He was not at all a shy child, though he was
very reserved as a rule.
Sophy could not have said why she was surprised and rather disappointed
at the evident fancy which he had taken to Belinda Horton. She did not
divine that even the seven-year-old man vibrated to the spell of
Belinda's surcharged femininity.
Bobby lounged against the girl's knee and stared up into her face out of
sober, dark-grey eyes.
"Well?" said Belinda, taking his chin in her strong fingers and shaking
it slightly. "_Why_ do you like it?"
"'Cause you're beautiful," said he boldly.
Belinda laughed, ran her hand the "wrong way" over his face, and picking
up a lump of sugar, pressed it between his willing lips.
"There!" she said. "If you were older, 'twould be a kiss--but I believe
little boys don't think kisses as sweet as sugar."
"I think _yours_ would be," he returned promptly, having tucked away the
lump of sugar in his cheek.
"Bobby!" called his mother. "Don't be forward...."
"Oh, don't snub him ... please," Belinda said. "He's not 'forward'--but
he's going to be a dreadful flirt. My! young man, but you're going to
lead the girls a dance when you know how--ain't you?"
"I know how to dance now," said Bobby.
"You do, hey? Well, you shall dance with me some time. Would you like
that?"
"Ra-_ther_!"
Sophy, however, didn't at all like this unusual, bold-eyed Bobby who was
lolling against a stranger's knee as though they had been intimate for
years, and "giving her as good as she sent." She cast a meaning glance
at young Grey, who had just finished his cup of tea. He rose obediently,
though he felt the deepest sympathy with Bobby.
"Time for your boxing lesson, Bobby," he said.
Bobby pressed closer to Belinda. He looked at his mother.
"Couldn't I stay a _little_ longer, mother?" he pleaded. "'Cause Cousin
Belinda's just come?"
Sophy didn't want to appear a prig. She glanced again at Harold Grey.
"You must ask Mr. Grey," she said.
"Mr. Grey" was between two fires. He said somewhat lamely:
"I'm sure Miss Horton will excuse you, Bobby. He has his boxing lesson
and his history to prepare for to-morrow," he added, in explanation.
Belinda smiled this time--it was a discreet smile, but disclosed a
dimple in the cheek next "Mr. Grey."
"Hard lines, Bobby!" she murmured. "I think I _must_ be nicer than
boxing and history!"
"I should _think_ so!" he cried with fervour. "Mr. Grey knows it,
too...."
Harold Grey blushed. Belinda laughed delightedly. Sophy rose and took
Bobby by the hand. She was laughing, too, but quite firm.
"Come, Bobby," she said. "You can see your Cousin Belinda as much as you
like to-morrow."
Bobby, thus admonished, resisted no longer. He made his most formal bow
to the company and marched off with his tutor. Belinda rather resented
being thus deprived of her youthful admirer.
She looked smilingly at Sophy.
"My! but you've got him in good training, haven't you?" she said lazily.
"Have you got Morry trained like that, too?"
Mrs. Horton made a nervous movement.
Sophy took it tranquilly.
"You must judge for yourself," she replied, also smiling. To herself she
said: "This girl has a vulgar mind ... and I'm afraid she's taken a
dislike to me."
Loring entered a moment later. He, too, blinked when he saw Belinda. It
was not so much her beauty that made him blink as her full-fledged
"young-ladyhood." He had not realised that the tucking up of her
brilliant mane and the letting down of her skirts would produce so
complete a transformation.
He came forward rather consciously, kissed his aunt perfunctorily, and
said:
"Hello, Linda!"
"Hello, Morry!" she returned, lying back in her armchair and looking
serenely up at him. But into her lazy eyes there had come a glint of
garnet. The talk was general for a few moments. Then Loring said that he
wanted a cup of tea. He rang, and Biggs brought fresh tea-things.
"I'll make it for you," said Belinda. She glanced at Sophy. "If _you_
don't mind?" she said.
"Of course not. Thanks!" said Sophy.
Belinda busied herself with the tea service. She had well-shaped, very
white, very deft hands. The White Cat in the fairy tale must have had
hands like Belinda's--just so velvety and agile.
Morris watched them curiously. It was odd--but Belinda's hands had
"grown up," too. He remembered them tanned and scratched--regular
"paws." Now they were white-cat paws, soft as velvet even to look at.
"How funny!" he said suddenly.
Belinda lifted an eyebrow.
"What's 'funny'?"
"Your sitting there so demurely making tea for me."
"Why shouldn't I sit demurely and make tea for you?"
"Oh, I don't know! You see ... I remember you shinning up trees and ...
and that sort of thing."
This speech rather halted at the end.
Belinda thought correctly that the memory of that kiss had interfered
with the memory of her tree-climbing. Her spirit purred within her.
"I daresay I could 'shin up' a tree quite well nowadays," she remarked.
"It doesn't at all prevent one from making good tea."
As she spoke, she nipped a lump of sugar in two between her strong
little fingers, and dropped one half into the cup she was preparing for
him.
"I say!" exclaimed Morris. "How you do remember things!"
Then he flushed.
"Oh, yes ... I remember things," said Belinda easily.
She poured cream into the cup and pushed it towards him.
"There...." she said. "If you haven't changed ... entirely ... that's
the way you like it."
Sophy and Mrs. Horton were deeply absorbed. Sophy had just told
Belinda's mother about the plan of having Belinda stop with her at
Newport. Mrs. Horton was delighted. They were now discussing the
question of dates. Sophy thought that perhaps she had better arrange a
coming-out ball for Belinda before the girl appeared in society. In that
case, she had better go first to Newport, and Belinda could join her in,
say, ten days. Mrs. Horton called over to her daughter, happily excited:
"Linda, you are certainly the luckiest girl! Just listen to what Sophy's
going to do for you...."
And she explained with enthusiasm.
For some reason, Belinda, who did not colour easily, grew suddenly red.
Then she tossed back her head and looked at Sophy.
"It's _awfully_ good of you...." she said. "I think it's most _awfully_
kind of you...." she repeated. Her voice had real feeling in it, and
yet, queerly enough, Sophy sensed that this feeling included resentment
also. The girl was certainly a very peculiar character. Was it that she
did not like receiving favours which she could not return? She looked a
haughty creature. Yes--doubtless that was it.
"It will be a great pleasure for me to have you," Sophy said. "I shall
love bringing out the beauty of the season."
She said it nicely without a hint of patronage. But now this odd girl
grew quite pale.
"Thanks! That's awfully kind of you," she murmured again. What had
turned her pale was the thought that Sophy should take pleasure in her
own undoing. She was quite relentless, but she had the sort of qualm
that might have stirred a very young Nemesis, when precipitating the
first tragedy on her appointed path.
After this, the talk again became general for a few moments; then Sophy
took Mrs. Horton to see her sister, and the others went to dress for
dinner.