Variable Winds at Jalna. Mazo de la Roche

just ‘people,’ Adeline.”

      “You’re too sensitive, Malt. There will be plenty for you to do. Daddy’s always wishing Uncle Piers had more time to help with the horses. And he’s so generous. He’ll give you a good share, you may be sure.”

      He took her hand and kissed the palm. “You make me feel middle-aged and disillusioned,” he said. “But perhaps I’ll get over it in the air of Jalna where you all have a sort of born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-the-mouth look and a Victorian confidence in the future.”

      He told her of Renny’s suggestion that they might arrange to have Meg’s house and she was delighted. She strained toward the evening when they could inspect it. She said:

      “It will be splendid for when your people come from New York to visit us. Of course when they come to the wedding they’ll stay at Jalna.”

      “Couldn’t we get married without any fuss? Just your family here — and we two?”

      Adeline was astonished. “Why, Maitland, don’t you want a proper wedding?”

      “Not particularly. I hate fuss.”

      “But don’t you want your family to come to see you married?”

      “Not particularly. We could go down to New York to see them on our honeymoon.”

      “Oh, I thought we’d go to one of our lakes in the north or perhaps to Quebec.”

      “All right, dearest, whatever you want.”

      At Meg’s all was preparation for the dinner party. Patience stayed at home that day and she and her mother became involved in intricate preparations for a meal to rival those at Jalna. Meg felt that when Renny came to her house he must be offered cooking equal to Mrs. Wragge’s. Patience, with little experience to help her, had a passion for trying new recipes. The result was that every utensil in the kitchen was in use, and by the time the guests began to arrive they were both in a state of confusion, heat, and almost despair. It had been Roma’s part to lay the table, but the setting of twelve places about the table, even with the extension leaf added, had been too much for her patience. She showed a flushed face at the kitchen door. “I’d like,” she said, “to throw all these dishes and knives and forks on the floor.”

      “If you were doing what I’m doing,” said her cousin, “you might talk.”

      “I’d never do it. There’s no sense in it.”

      “Can’t you set the table without getting in a temper?”

      “There’s no room for twelve. Why did Aunty Meg have to ask Philip and Archer?”

      “I don’t know,” shouted Patience. “If you can’t lay the table, leave it to me. I’ll do it.”

      “Why can’t we have a buffet dinner like other people do?”

      Meg called from the pantry, “I never have set my brother down to a buffet dinner, and never shall.”

      “You don’t sit down, you stand,” grumbled Roma.

      “Not in this house you don’t,” said Meg.

      At this moment Piers and his family arrived, and Pheasant at once took over the setting of the table, Christian drifted away with Roma, Piers undertook the sharpening of the carving-knife, Philip began to mow the lawn, and little Mary went into a corner and cried.

      By the time the party arrived from Jalna all was in order. They were welcomed by Meg wearing a dark-blue dress with white belt, which somehow made her plump waist appear even plumper; Patience in frilly pink, with not at all the fashionable silhouette; Roma in pale angelic blue. All regarded Fitzturgis with unstinted curiosity. He, on his part, looked over all three with a practiced eye.

      As soon as possible Renny drew his sister aside.

      “Meggie,” he said, “I have a prospective tenant or buyer for your house.”

      “Oh splendid,” she cried. “Who is it?”

      “Fitzturgis. He is determined that he and Adeline shall have their own house, and I daresay he’s right. I haven’t been able to find out what means he has, but I guess not very affluent. Still, he should be able to pay a fair price or rent.”

      “Oh, he must! Of course, if I were not a widow, with two young girls to support, it would not matter so much, but — with times what they are —”

      “I know,” he said sympathetically, not reminding her that he paid her for Roma’s support and that Patience earned her own living.

      “I shall love to think of Adeline in this house and that sweet Irishman too. And with me keeping house for Finch it seems almost too —”

      “Too true to be good,” said Archer, just entering.

      Renny looked with some sternness at his son. “Were you listening?” he demanded.

      “I suppose I was,” answered Archer. “I find it so hard to draw the line between being not interested enough and being too interested.”

      “I’ll draw it for you,” said Renny. “When you come upon two people talking in low tones together that’s the time to keep out.”

      “But wherever I go I find two people talking in low tones. There seems to be no place for me.”

      There now came a smell of burning from the kitchen and Meg flew to it in panic. However, no mischief had been done and shortly a pair of fine plump capons were placed on the table. Pheasant found her little daughter, comforted her, and the family drew about the table.

      “Depressus extollor,” remarked Archer, then, for the benefit of the company, translated, “Having been depressed, I am now exalted.” Alayne gave him a repressive look. Renny took up the carving-knife and fork.

      He had barely disjointed a wing when there was the sound of a car on the drive. From where she sat Roma could see the arrival. “Do you know what?” she said to Christian, who sat next her. “It’s Uncle Nicholas. You’d think he’d know enough to stay home at his age.”

      Now everyone had discovered him. There was a general standing up and craning of necks, Renny still gripping the carving-knife and fork. He exclaimed:

      “The dear old boy said he wanted to come. I told him I thought it would be too much for him. He looked disappointed and now, by the Lord, he’s had his own way. Philip and Nooky, you two go and help him in.” The boys obeyed.

      “Who brought him?” Alayne asked in the voice she used when she was prepared to endure some fresh evidence of family wilfulness.

      “Wright. In his own car. Now Wright has got him out. Why — he’s walking strongly!”

      “Bless his heart,” said Meg. “Patience, will you lay a place for him?” She looked hopefully about the already crowded table.

      “He had his dinner before we left,” said Alayne. “I saw to that.”

      “I know,” Renny agreed. “But he ate very little. He’ll be hungry by now. Archer, you could let Uncle Nick have your place, couldn’t you?”

      “Mercy!” said Archer. It was his latest favourite in words and he uttered it on a high complaining note.

      By this time the old man was in the room, smiling his triumph. “Thought you’d got rid of me, didn’t you? But I enjoy a party as well as anyone.”

      “And we’re delighted to have you,” cried Meg, going to him and kissing him.

      “Now don’t trouble about me,” said Nicholas. “I’ll just sit at this little table and gnaw a bone. How pretty everything looks.”

      But they troubled a good deal, the boys bringing a comfortable chair, Patience laying a cloth and dishes on the little table, Renny cutting his favourite parts from the chicken.

      Little