Carron was late for breakfast the next morning, and when he came in
found Brigit sitting in her mother's place, laughing and talking with
Sir Henry Brinsley, who, much pleased by the manner in which his dull
and endless stories were received, subsequently declared that it was all
rot calling that handsome girl of Lady Kingsmead's dull; very
intelligent girl indeed, as a matter of fact.
But for all her composure, Brigit never quite lost her
that-morning-conceived hatred of people who have two goes at ham and
eggs; and an infantile remark of Tommy's that eggs should be eaten only
out of the shell, because they "bled all over the plate," recurred to
her again and again as she watched the worthy baronet satisfy his
enormous appetite.
"Mornin', Brigit." "Morning, Gerald." She nodded, and he went to a side
table for some fish.
Théo, who sat opposite Brigit for the excellent reason that his father
had insisted on sitting by her, took some marmalade. "What are we to do
this morning?" he asked.
She frowned with sudden impatience. It was a horrible question. Would he
always ask it at breakfast?
Then she smiled at him, for his fresh happy face was good to look at.
"Oh, nothing--or anything you like. Why?"
"Because I thought it might be well, if you can spare the time, to take
papa for a spin in the motor. He did not sleep well."
She turned to Joyselle. "It is true. I am one of the best sleepers in
the world, but last night I had a bad dream, and it got on my nerves and
I lay awake for nearly two hours," He spoke with an air of only
half-amused grievance.
"I am sorry," she murmured perfunctorily, rising to shake hands with
Miss Letchworth, whom she had always disliked as being one of those
people who are jocund in the morning. Then, as Yelverton proceeded to
provide food for the unfortunate jocund one (who was really as inclined
to matutinal depression as any of her betters, but considered it her
duty to be "cheery"), Brigit realised that she was not sorry Joyselle
had slept badly; she was glad.
"My dream, Brigitte," he went on, his thought answering hers, "was about
you. You were so unhappy, poor child, and I was trying to help you, but
could not reach you. It was very dreadful, for I could hear you call to
me."
"How--pathetic," she answered, with stiffening lips. "But--would you
like to go motoring?" He nodded delightedly, for his mouth was full of
toast.
"I _love_ it," he went on, a moment later, "I love to go fast, fast,
fast. It is wonderful. What is your car?"
"It is mother's; nothing very remarkable in the way of speed, I fear.
Would you care to go for a drive, Lady Brinsley?"
But Lady Brinsley had letters to write, and no one else volunteering
for the excursion, half-past eleven found Brigit and Joyselle in the
tonneau of the car, and Théo sitting with the chauffeur.
"Go to Kletchley, Hubbard."
It was a cold, grey day, with a steely sky and a wind that threatened to
be high later on. Brigit's cap was tied on firmly with a strong green
veil, but she wore nothing over her face, and the chill air made her
feel better. She had not slept at all, and was tired, although nothing
in her aspect betrayed the fact. All night her mind had been busy with
its new-found problem, and the unusual presence of her mother had made
her very nervous. But--she had not dared return to her room, for fear of
finding Carron there.