The Greatest Works of E. F. Benson (Illustrated Edition). E. F. Benson

I understand, before tea. I suggested, of course, a visit to The Hall, where I would have been delighted to entertain them. Where did they lunch?"

      "At Georgie Pillson's," said Lucia bitterly.

      "Indeed. I wonder why Mr Pillson did not let me know. Did you lunch there too?"

      "No. I have a party in my own house. Some friends from London, Lord Limpsfield, Mrs Garroby-Ashton —"

      "Indeed!" said Lady Ambermere. "I had meant to return to The Hall for tea, but I will change my plans and have a cup of tea with you, Mrs Lucas. Perhaps you would ask Mrs Shuttleworth and her distinguished guest to drop in. I will present you to her. You have a pretty little garden, I remember. Quaint. You are at liberty to say that I am taking tea with you. But stay! If they have gone out for a drive, they will not be back quite yet. It does not matter: we will sit in your garden."

      Now in the ordinary way this would have been a most honourable event, but today, though Lady Ambermere had not changed, her value had. If only Olga had not come down bringing her whom Lucia could almost refer to as that infernal Princess, it would have been rich, it would have been glorious, to have Lady Ambermere dropping in to tea. Even now she would be better than nothing, thought Lucia, and after inspecting the visitors' book of the Museum, where Olga and the Princess had inscribed their names, and where now Lady Ambermere wrote hers, very close to the last one, so as to convey the impression that they were one party, they left the place.

      Outside was drawn up Lady Ambermere's car, with her companion, the meek Miss Lyall, sitting on the front seat nursing Lady Ambermere's stertorous pug.

      "Let me see," said she. "How had we best arrange? A walk would be good for Pug before he has his tea. Pug takes lukewarm milk with a biscuit broken up into it. Please put Pug on his leash, Miss Lyall, and we will all walk across the green to Mrs Lucas's little house. The motor shall go round by the road and wait for us there. That is Mrs Shuttleworth's little house, is it not? So you might kindly step in there, Mrs Lucas, and leave a message for them about tea, stating that I shall be there. We will walk slowly and you will soon catch us up."

      The speech was thoroughly Ambermerian: everybody in Riseholme had a 'little house' compared with The Hall: everybody had a 'little garden.' Equally Ambermerian was her complete confidence that her wish was everybody else's pleasure, and Lucia dismally reflected that she, for her part, had never failed to indicate that it was. But just now, though Lady Ambermere was so conspicuously second-best, and though she was like a small luggage-engine with a Roman nose and a fat dog, the wretched Lucia badly wanted somebody to 'drop in,' and by so doing give her some sort of status — alas, that one so lately the Queen of Riseholme should desire it — in the sight of her guests. She could say what a bore Lady Ambermere was the moment she had gone.

      Wretched also was her errand: she knew that Olga and the infernal Princess were to have a ouija with Daisy and Georgie, and that her invitation would be futile, and as for that foolish old woman's suggestion that her presence at The Hurst would prove an attraction to Olga, she was aware that if anything was needful to make Olga refuse to come, it would be that Lady Ambermere was there. Olga had dined at The Hall once, and had been induced to sing, while her hostess played Patience and talked to Pug.

      Lucia had a thought: not a very bright one, but comparatively so. She might write her name in the Princess's book: that would be something. So, when her ring was answered, and she ascertained, as she already knew, that Olga was out, and left the hopeless invitation that she and her guest would come to tea, where they would meet Lady Ambermere, she asked for the Princess's book.

      Olga's parlour-maid looked puzzled.

      "Would that be the book of crossword puzzles, ma'am?" she asked. "I don't think her Highness brought any other book, and that she's taken with her for her drive."

      Lucia trudged sadly away. Halfway across the green she saw Georgie and Daisy Quantock with a large sort of drawing-board under her arm coming briskly in her direction. She knew where they were going, and she pulled her shattered forces together.

      "Dearest Daisy, not set eyes on you!" she said. "A few friends from London, how it ties one! But I shall pop in tomorrow, for I stop till Tuesday. Going to have a ouija-party with dear Piggie and Goosie? Wish I could come, but Lady Ambermere has quartered herself on me for tea, and I must run on and catch her up. Just been to your delicious Museum. Wonderful mittens! Wonderful everything. Peppino and I will look out something for it!"

      "Very kind," said Daisy. It was as if the North Pole had spoken.

      Pug and Miss Lyall and Lady Ambermere and her two depressed guests had been admitted to The Hurst before Lucia caught them up, and she found them all seated stonily in the music-room, where Stephen Merriall had been finishing his official correspondence. Well Lucia knew what he had been writing about: there might perhaps be a line or two about The Hurst, and the party weekending there, but that, she was afraid, would form a mere little postscript to more exalted paragraphs. She hastily introduced him to Lady Ambermere and Miss Lyall, but she had no idea who Lady Ambermere's guests were, and suspected they were poor relations, for Lady Ambermere introduced them to nobody.

      Pug gave a series of wheezy barks.

      "Clever little man," said Lady Ambermere. "He is asking for his tea. He barks four times like that for his tea."

      "And he shall have it," said Lucia. "Where are the others, Stephen?"

      Mr Merriall exerted himself a little on hearing Lady Ambermere's name: he would put in a sentence about her . . .

      "Lord Limpsfield and Mrs Garroby-Ashton have gone to play golf," he said. "Barbarously energetic of them, is it not, Lady Ambermere? What a sweet little dog."

      "Pug does not like strangers," said Lady Ambermere. "And I am disappointed not to see Lord Limpsfield. Do we expect Mrs Shuttleworth and the Princess?"

      "I left the message," said Lucia.

      Lady Ambermere's eyes finished looking at Mr Merriall and proceeded slowly round the room.

      "What is that curious picture?" she said. "I am completely puzzled."

      Lucia gave her bright laugh: it was being an awful afternoon, but she had to keep her flag flying.

      "Striking, is it not?" she said. "Dear Benjy Sigismund insisted on painting me. Such a lot of sittings."

      Lady Ambermere looked from one to the other.

      "I do not see any resemblance," she said. "It appears to me to resemble nothing. Ah, here is tea. A little lukewarm milk for Pug, Miss Lyall. Mix a little hot water with it, it does not suit him to have it quite cold. And I should like to see Mr Georgie Pillson. No doubt he could be told that I am here."

      This was really rather desperate: Lucia could not produce Olga or the Princess, or Lord Limpsfield or Mrs Garroby-Ashton for Lady Ambermere, and she knew she could not produce Georgie, for by that time he would be at Olga's. All that was left for her was to be able to tell Lord Limpsfield and Mrs Garroby-Ashton when they returned that they had missed Lady Ambermere. As for Riseholme . . . but it was better not to think how she stood with regard to Riseholme, which, yesterday, she had settled to be of no account at all. If only, before coming down, she had asked them all to lunch and tea and dinner . . .

      The message came back that Mr Pillson had gone to tea with Mrs Shuttleworth. Five minutes later came regrets from Olga that she had friends with her, and could not come to tea. Lady Ambermere ate seed cake in silence. Mrs Alingsby meantime had been spending the afternoon in her bedroom, and she now appeared in a chintz wrapper and morocco slippers. Her hair fell over her eyes like that of an Aberdeen terrier, and she gave a shrill scream when she saw Pug.

      "I can't bear dogs," she said. "Take that dog away, dear Lucia. Burn it, drown it! You told me you hadn't got any dogs."

      Lady Ambermere turned on her a face that should have instantly petrified her, if she had had any proper feeling. Never had Pug been so blasphemed. She rose as she swallowed the last mouthful of seed cake.

      "We are inconveniencing your guests, Mrs Lucas," she said. "Pug and I will be off. Miss Lyall, Pug's leash. We must be getting