Queen Lucia

by E. F. Benson

  Chapter FOUR

  Pink irascible Robert, prone to throw his food about his plate, if itdid not commend itself to him, felt in an extremely good natured moodthat same night after dinner, for the Guru had again made a visit tothe kitchen with the result that instead of a slab of pale dead codfishbeing put before him after he had eaten some tepid soup, there appeareda delicious little fish-curry. The Guru had behaved with great tact; hehad seen the storm gathering on poor Robert's face, as he sipped thecool effete concoction and put down his spoon again with a splash inhis soup plate, and thereupon had bowed and smiled and scurried away tothe kitchen to intercept the next abomination. Then returning with thelittle curry he explained that it was entirely for Robert, since thosewho sought the Way did not indulge in hot sharp foods, and so he hadgobbled it up to the very last morsel.

  In consequence when the Guru salaamed very humbly, and said that withgracious permission of beloved lady and kind master he would go andmeditate in his room, and had shambled away in his red slippers, thediscussion which Robert had felt himself obliged to open with his wife,on the subject of having an unknown Indian staying with them for anindefinite period, was opened in a much more amicable key than it wouldhave been on a slice of codfish.

  "Well, now, about this Golliwog--haha--I should say Guru, my dear," hebegan, "what's going to happen?"

  Daisy Quantock drew in her breath sharply and winced at thisirreverence, but quickly remembered that she must always be sending outmessages of love, north, east, south, and west. So she sent a ratherspiky one in the direction of her husband who was sitting due east, sothat it probably got to him at once, and smiled the particular hardfirm smile which was an heirloom inherited from her last rule of life.

  "No one knows," she said brightly. "Even the Guides can't tell whereand when a Guru may be called."

  "Then do you propose he should stop here till he's called somewhereelse?"

  She continued smiling.

  "I don't propose anything," she said. "It's not in my hands."

  Under the calming influence of the fish curry, Robert remained stillplacid.

  "He's a first-rate cook anyhow," he said. "Can't you engage him asthat? Call to the kitchen, you know."

  "Darling!" said Mrs Quantock, sending out more love. But she had aquick temper, and indeed the two were outpoured together, like hot andcold taps turned on in a bath. The pellucid stream of love served tokeep her temper moderately cool.

  "Well, ask him," suggested Mr Quantock, "as you say, you never can tellwhere a Guru may be called. Give him forty pounds a year and beermoney."

  "Beer!" began Mrs Quantock, when she suddenly remembered Georgie'sstory about Rush and the Guru and the brandy-bottle, and stopped.

  "Yes, dear, I said 'beer,'" remarked Robert a little irritably, "and inany case I insist that you dismiss your present cook. You only took herbecause she was a Christian Scientist, and you've left that littlesheep-fold now. You used to talk about false claims I remember. Wellher claim to be a cook is the falsest I ever heard of. I'd sooner takemy chance with an itinerant organ grinder. But that fish-curry tonightand that other thing last night, that's what I mean by good eating."

  The thought even of good food always calmed Robert's savage breast; itblew upon him as the wind on an AEolian harp hung in the trees, evokingfaint sweet sounds.

  "I'm sure, my dear," he said, "that I shall be willing to fall in withany pleasant arrangement about your Guru, but it really isn'tunreasonable in me to ask what sort of arrangement you propose. Ihaven't a word to say against him, especially when he goes to thekitchen; I only want to know if he is going to stop here a night or twoor a year or two. Talk to him about it tomorrow with my love. I wonderif he can make bisque soup."

  Daisy Quantock carried quite a quantity of material for reflectionupstairs with her, then she went to bed, pausing a moment opposite theGuru's door, from inside of which came sounds of breathing so deep thatit sounded almost like snoring. But she seemed to detect a timbre ofspirituality about it which convinced her that he was holding highcommunion with the Guides. It was round him that her thoughts centred,he was the tree through the branches of which they scamperedchattering.

  Her first and main interest in him was sheer Guruism, for she was oneof those intensely happy people who pass through life in ecstaticpursuit of some idea which those who do not share it call a fad. Wellmight poor Robert remember the devastation of his home when Daisy,after the perusal of a little pamphlet which she picked up on abook-stall called "The Uric Acid Monthly," came to the shatteringconclusion that her buxom frame consisted almost entirely ofwaste-products which must be eliminated. For a greedy man the situationwas frankly intolerable, for when he continued his ordinary diet (thiswas before the cursed advent of the Christian Science cook) she keptpointing to his well-furnished plate, and told him that every atom ofthat beef or mutton and potatoes, turned from the moment he swallowed itinto chromogens and toxins, and that his apparent appetite was merely theresult of fermentation. For herself her platter was an abominable messof cheese and protein-powder and apples and salad-oil, while round her,like saucers of specimen seeds were ranged little piles of nuts andpine-branches, which supplied body-building material, and which sheweighed out with scrupulous accuracy, in accordance with the directionsof the "Uric Acid Monthly." Tea and coffee were taboo, since theyflooded the blood with purins, and the kitchen boiler rumbled day andnight to supply the rivers of boiling water with which (taken in sips)she inundated her system. Strange gaunt females used to come down fromLondon, with small parcels full of tough food that tasted oftravelling-bags and contained so much nutrition that a port-manteaufull of it would furnish the daily rations of any army. Luckily evenher iron constitution could not stand the strain of such ideal livingfor long, and her growing anaemia threatened to undermine aconstitution seriously impaired by the precepts of perfect health. Acourse of beef-steaks and other substantial viands loaded with uricacid restored her to her former vigour.

  Thus reinforced, she plunged with the same energy as she had devoted torepelling uric acid into the embrace of Christian Science. Theinhumanity of that sect towards both herself and others took completepossession of her, and when her husband complained on a bitter Januarymorning that his smoking-room was like an icehouse, because thehousemaid had forgotten to light the fire, she had no touch of pity forhim, since she knew that there was no such thing as cold or heat orpain, and therefore you could not feel cold. But now, since, accordingto the new creed, such things as uric acid, chromogens and purins hadno existence, she could safely indulge in decent viands again. But herunhappy husband was not a real gainer in this respect, for while heate, she tirelessly discoursed to him on the new creed, and asked himto recite with her the True Statement of Being. And on the top of thatshe dismissed the admirable cook, and engaged the miscreant from whomhe suffered still, though Christian Science, which had allowed her coldto make so long a false claim on her, had followed the uric-acid fadinto the limbo of her discarded beliefs.

  But now once more she had temporarily discovered the secret of life inthe teachings of the Guru, and it was, as has been mentioned, sheerGuruism that constituted the main attraction of the new creed. Thatthen being taken for granted, she turned her mind to certainside-issues, which to a true Riseholmite were of entrancing interest.She felt a strong suspicion that Lucia contemplated annexing her Gurualtogether, for otherwise she would not have returned so enthusiastic aresponse to her note, nor have sent Georgie to deliver it, nor haveprofessed so violent an interest in the Guru. What then was thecorrectly diabolical policy to pursue? Should Daisy Quantock refuse totake him to Mrs Lucas altogether, with a message of regret that he didnot feel himself sent? Even if she did this, did she feel herselfstrong enough to throw down the gauntlet (in the shape of the Guru)and, using him as the attraction, challenge darling Lucia to mutualcombat, in order to decide who should be the leader of all that wasadvanced and cultured in Riseholme society? Still following thatramification of this policy, should sh
e bribe Georgie over to her ownrevolutionary camp, by promising him instruction from the Guru? Orfollowing a less dashing line, should she take darling Lucia andGeorgie into the charmed circle, and while retaining her own right oftreasure trove, yet share it with them in some inner ring, dispensingthe Guru to them, if they were good, in small doses?

  Mrs Quantock's mind resembled in its workings the manoeuvres of a mothdistracted by the glory of several bright lights. It dashed at one, gotslightly singed, and forgetting all about that turned its attention tothe second, and the third, taking headers into each in turn, withoutdeciding which, on the whole, was the most enchanting of thoseluminaries. So, in order to curb the exuberance of these frenziedexcursions she got a half sheet of paper, and noted down thealternatives that she must choose from.

  "(I) Shall I keep him entirely to myself?

  "(II) Shall I run him for all he is worth, and leave out L?

  "(III) Shall I get G on my side?

  "(IV) Shall I give L and G bits?"

  She paused a moment: then remembering that he had voluntarily helpedher very pretty housemaid to make the beds that morning, saying thathis business (like the Prince of Wales's) was to serve, she added:

  "(V) Shall I ask him to be my cook?"

  For a few seconds the brightness of her eager interest was dimmed asthe unworthy suspicion occurred to her that perhaps the prettiness ofher housemaid had something to do with his usefulness in the bedrooms,but she instantly dismissed it. There was the bottle of brandy, too,which he had ordered from Rush's. When she had begged him to orderanything he wanted and cause it to be put down to her account, she hadnot actually contemplated brandy. Then remembering that one of the mostnecessary conditions for progress in Yoga, was that the disciple shouldhave complete confidence in the Guru, she chased that also out of hermind. But still, even when the lines of all possible policies werewritten down, she could come to no decision, and putting her paper byher bed, decided to sleep over it. The rhythmical sounds of hallowedbreathing came steadily from next door, and she murmured "Om, Om," intime with them.

  The hours of the morning between breakfast and lunch were the timewhich the inhabitants of Riseholme chiefly devoted to spying on eachother. They went about from shop to shop on household businesses,occasionally making purchases which they carried away with them inlittle paper parcels with convenient loops of string, but the realobject of these excursions was to see what everybody else was doing,and learn what fresh interests had sprung up like mushrooms during thenight. Georgie would be matching silks at the draper's, and verynaturally he would carry them from the obscurity of the interior to thedoor in order to be certain about the shades, and keep his eye on thecomings and goings in the street, and very naturally Mr Lucas on hisway to the market gardener's to enquire whether he had yet received thebulbs from Holland, would tell him that Lucia had received thepiano-arrangement of the Mozart trio. Georgie for his part would mentionthat Hermy and Ursy were expected that evening, and Peppino enriched bythis item would "toddle on," as his phrase went, to meet and exchangeconfidences with the next spy. He had noticed incidentally that Georgiecarried a small oblong box with hard corners, which, perfectlycorrectly, he conjectured to be cigarettes for Hermy and Ursy, sinceGeorgie never smoked.

  "Well, I must be toddling on," he said, after identifying Georgie's boxof cigarettes, and being rather puzzled by a bulge in Georgie's pocket."You'll be looking in some time this morning, perhaps."

  Georgie had not been quite sure that he would (for he was very busyowing to the arrival of his sisters, and the necessity of going to MrHolroyd's, in order that that artist might accurately match the shadeof his hair with a view to the expensive toupet), but the mention ofthe arrival of the Mozart now decided him. He intended anyhow before hewent home for lunch to stroll past The Hurst, and see if he did nothear--to adopt a mixed metaphor--the sound of the diligent practice ofthat classical morsel going on inside. Probably the soft pedal would bedown, but he had marvellously acute hearing, and he would be very muchsurprised if he did not hear the recognisable chords, and even moresurprised if, when they came to practise the piece together, Lucia didnot give him to understand that she was reading it for the first time.He had already got a copy, and had practised his part last night, butthen he was in the superior position of not having a husband who wouldinadvertently tell on him! Meantime it was of the first importance toget that particular shade of purple silk that had none of that"tarsome" magenta-tint in it. Meantime also, it was of even greaterimportance to observe the movements of Riseholme.

  Just opposite was the village green, and as nobody was quite close tohim Georgie put on his spectacles, which he could whisk off in amoment. It was these which formed that bulge in his pocket whichPeppino had noticed, but the fact of his using spectacles at all was asecret that would have to be profoundly kept for several years yet. Butas there was no one at all near him, he stealthily adjusted them on hissmall straight nose. The morning train from town had evidently come in,for there was a bustle of cabs about the door of the Ambermere Arms,and a thing that thrilled him to the marrow was the fact that LadyAmbermere's motor was undoubtedly among them. That must surely meanthat Lady Ambermere herself was here, for when poor thin Miss Lyall,her companion, came in to Riseholme to do shopping, or transact suchbusiness as the majestic life at The Hall required, she always came onfoot, or in very inclement weather in a small two-wheeled cart like ahip-bath. At this moment, steeped in conjecture, who should appear,walking stiffly, with her nose in the air, as if suspecting, and notchoosing to verify, some faint unpleasant odour, but Lady Ambermereherself, coming from the direction of The Hurst.... Clearly she musthave got there after Peppino had left, or he would surely havementioned the fact that Lady Ambermere had been at The Hurst, if she_had_ been at The Hurst. It is true that she was only coming fromthe direction of The Hurst, but Georgie put into practice, in hismental processes Darwin's principle, that in order to observe usefully,you must have a theory. Georgie's theory was that Lady Ambermere hadbeen at The Hurst just for a minute or two, and hastily put hisspectacles in his pocket. With the precision of a trained mind he alsoformed the theory that some business had brought Lady Ambermere intoRiseholme, and that taking advantage of her presence there, she hadprobably returned a verbal answer to Lucia's invitation to hergarden-party, which she would have received by the first post thismorning. He was quite ready to put his theory to the test when LadyAmbermere had arrived at the suitable distance for his convenientlyobserving her, and for taking off his hat. She always treated him likea boy, which he liked. The usual salutation passed.

  "I don't know where my people are," said Lady Ambermere majestically."Have you seen my motor?"

  "Yes, dear lady, it's in at your own arms," said Georgie brightly."Happy motor!"

  If Lady Ambermere unbent to anybody, she unbent to Georgie. He was ofquite good family, because his mother had been a Bartlett and a secondcousin of her deceased husband. Sometimes when she talked to Georgieshe said "we," implying thereby his connection with the aristocracy,and this gratified Georgie nearly as much as did her treatment of himas being quite a boy still. It was to him, as a boy still, that sheanswered.

  "Well, the happy motor, you little rascal, must come to my arms insteadof being at them," she said with the quick wit for which Riseholmepronounced her famous. "Fancy being able to see my motor at thatdistance. Young eyes!"

  It was really young spectacles, but Georgie did not mind that. In fact,he would not have corrected the mistake for the world.

  "Shall I run across and fetch it for you?" he asked.

  "In a minute. Or whistle on your fingers like a vulgar street boy,"said Lady Ambermere. "I'm sure you know how to."

  Georgie had not the slightest idea, but with the courage of youth,presuming, with the prudence of middle-age, that he would not really becalled upon to perform so unimaginable a feat, he put two fingers up tohis mouth.

  "Here goes then!" he said, greatly daring. (He knew perfectly well thatthe dignity of Lad
y Ambermere would not permit rude vulgar whistling,of which he was hopelessly incapable, to summon her motor. She made afeint of stopping her ears with her hands.)

  "Don't do anything of the kind," she said. "In a minute you shall walkwith me across to the Arms, but tell me this first. I have just been tosay to our good Mrs Lucas that very likely I will look in at hergarden-party on Friday, if I have nothing else to do. But who is thiswonderful creature she is expecting? Is it an Indian conjurer? If so, Ishould like to see him, because when Ambermere was in Madras I rememberone coming to the Residency who had cobras and that sort of thing. Itold her I didn't like snakes, and she said there shouldn't be any. Infact, it was all rather mysterious, and she didn't at present know ifhe was coming or not. I only said, 'No snakes: I insist on no snakes.'"

  Georgie relieved her mind about the chance of there being snakes, andgave a short _precis_ of the ascertained habits of the Guru,laying special stress on his high-caste.

  "Yes, some of these Brahmins are of very decent family," admitted LadyAmbermere. "I was always against lumping all dark-skinned peopletogether and calling them niggers. When we were at Madras I was famedfor my discrimination."

  They were walking across the green as Lady Ambermere gave vent to theseliberal sentiments, and Georgie even without the need of his spectaclescould see Peppino, who had spied Lady Ambermere from the door of themarket-gardener's, hurrying down the street, in order to get a wordwith her before "her people" drove her back to The Hall.

  "I came into Riseholme today to get rooms at the Arms for OlgaBracely," she observed.

  "The prima-donna?" asked Georgie breathless with excitement.

  "Yes; she is coming to stay at the Arms for two nights with MrShuttleworth."

  "Surely--" began Georgie.

  "No, it is all right, he is her husband, they were married last week,"said Lady Ambermere. "I should have thought that Shuttleworth was agood enough name, as the Shuttleworths are cousins of the late lord,but she prefers to call herself Miss Bracely. I don't dispute her rightto call herself what she pleases: far from it, though who the Bracelyswere, I have never been able to discover. But when George Shuttleworthwrote to me saying that he and his wife were intending to stay here fora couple of days, and proposing to come over to The Hall to see me, Ithought I would just look in at the Arms myself, and see that they werepromised proper accommodation. They will dine with me tomorrow. I havea few people staying, and no doubt Miss Bracely will sing afterwards.My Broadwood was always considered a remarkably fine instrument. It wasvery proper of George Shuttleworth to say that he would be in theneighbourhood, and I daresay she is a very decent sort of woman."

  They had come to the motor by this time--the rich, the noble motor, asMr Pepys would have described it--and there was poor Miss Lyall hungwith parcels, and wearing a faint sycophantic smile. This miserablespinster, of age so obvious as to be called not the least uncertain,was Lady Ambermere's companion, and shared with her the glories of TheHall, which had been left to Lady Ambermere for life. She was providedwith food and lodging and the use of the cart like a hip-bath when LadyAmbermere had errands for her to do in Riseholme, so what could a womanwant more? In return for these bounties, her only duty was to devoteherself body and mind to her patroness, to read the paper aloud, to setLady Ambermere's patterns for needlework, to carry the little Chinesedog under her arm, and wash him once a week, to accompany LadyAmbermere to church, and never to have a fire in her bedroom. She had amelancholy wistful little face: her head was inclined with a backwardslope on her neck, and her mouth was invariably a little open shewinglong front teeth, so that she looked rather like a roast hare sent upto table with its head on. Georgie always had a joke ready for MissLyall, of the sort that made her say, "Oh, Mr Pillson!" and caused herto blush. She thought him remarkably pleasant.

  Georgie had his joke ready on this occasion.

  "Why, here's Miss Lyall!" he said. "And what has Miss Lyall been doingwhile her ladyship and I have been talking? Better not ask, perhaps."

  "Oh, Mr Pillson!" said Miss Lyall, as punctually as a cuckoo clock whenthe hands point to the hour.

  Lady Ambermere put half her weight onto the step of the motor, causingit to creak and sway.

  "Call on the Shuttleworths, Georgie," she said. "Say I told you to.Home!"

  Miss Lyall effaced herself on the front seat of the motor, like a mousehiding in a corner, after Lady Ambermere had got in, and the footmanmounted onto the box. At that moment Peppino with his bag of bulbs, alittle out of breath, squeezed his way between two cabs by the side ofthe motor. He was just too late, and the motor moved off. It was veryimprobable that Lady Ambermere saw him at all.

  Georgie felt very much like a dog with a bone in his mouth, who onlywants to get away from all the other dogs and discuss it quietly. It issafe to say that never in twenty-four hours had so many exciting thingshappened to him. He had ordered a toupet, he had been looked on withfavour by a Guru, all Riseholme knew that he had had quite a longconversation with Lady Ambermere and nobody in Riseholme, excepthimself, knew that Olga Bracely was going to spend two nights here.Well he remembered her marvellous appearance last year at Covent Gardenin the part of Brunnhilde. He had gone to town for a rejuvenating visitto his dentist, and the tarsomeness of being betwixt and between hadbeen quite forgotten by him when he saw her awake to Siegfried's lineon the mountain-top. "_Das ist keine mann_," Siegfried had said,and, to be sure, that was very clever of him, for she looked like someslim beardless boy, and not in the least like those great fat Fraus atBaireuth, whom nobody could have mistaken for a man as they bulged andheaved even before the strings of the breastplate were uncut by hissword. And then she sat up and hailed the sun, and Georgie felt for amoment that he had quite taken the wrong turn in life, when he settledto spend his years in this boyish, maidenly manner with his embroideryand his china-dusting at Riseholme. He ought to have been Siegfried....He had brought a photograph of her in her cuirass and helmet, and oftenlooked at it when he was not too busy with something else. He had evenchampioned his goddess against Lucia, when she pronounced that Wagnerwas totally lacking in knowledge of dramatic effects. To be sure shehad never seen any Wagner opera, but she had heard the overture toTristram performed at the Queen's Hall, and if that was Wagner,well----

  Already, though Lady Ambermere's motor had not yet completely vanishedup the street, Riseholme was gently closing in round him, in order todiscover by discreet questions (as in the game of Clumps) what he andshe had been talking about. There was Colonel Boucher with his twosnorting bull-dogs closing in from one side, and Mrs Weston in herbath-chair being wheeled relentlessly towards him from another, and thetwo Miss Antrobuses sitting playfully in the stocks, on the third, andPeppino at close range on the fourth. Everyone knew, too, that he didnot lunch till half past one, and there was really no reason why heshould not stop and chat as usual. But with the eye of the truegeneral, he saw that he could most easily break the surrounding cordonby going off in the direction of Colonel Boucher, because ColonelBoucher always said "Haw, hum, by Jove," before he descended intocoherent speech, and thus Georgie could forestall him with "Goodmorning, Colonel," and pass on before he got to business. He did notlike passing close to those slobbering bull-dogs, but something had tobe done ... Next moment he was clear and saw that the other spies bytheir original impetus were still converging on each other and walkedbriskly down towards Lucia's house, to listen for any familiar noisesout of the Mozart trio. The noises were there, and the soft pedal wasdown just as he expected, so, that business being off his mind, hecontinued his walk for a few hundred yards more, meaning to make ashort circuit through fields, cross the bridge, over the happy streamthat flowed into the Avon, and regain his house by the door at thebottom of the garden. Then he would sit and think ... the Guru, OlgaBracely ... What if he asked Olga Bracely and her husband to dine, andpersuaded Mrs Quantock to let the Guru come? That would be three menand one woman, and Hermy and Ursy would make all square. Six for dinnerwas the utmost that Foljamb
e permitted.

  He had come to the stile that led into the fields, and sat there for amoment. Lucia's tentative melodies were still faintly audible, but soonthey stopped, and he guessed that she was looking out of the window.She was too great to take part in the morning spying that went on roundabout the Green, but she often saw a good deal from her window. Hewondered what Mrs Quantock was meaning to do. Apparently she had notpromised the Guru for the garden-party, or else Lady Ambermere wouldnot have said that Lucia did not know whether he was coming or not.Perhaps Mrs Quantock was going to run him herself, and grant himneither to Lucia nor Georgie. In that case he would certainly ask OlgaBracely and her husband to dine, and should he or should he not askLucia?

  The red star had risen in Riseholme: Bolshevism was treading in itspeaceful air, and if Mrs Quantock was going to secrete her Guru, andset up her own standard on the strength of him, Georgie felt muchinclined to ask Olga Bracely to dinner, without saying anythingwhatever to Lucia about it, and just see what would happen next.Georgie was a Bartlett on his mother's side, and he played the pianobetter than Lucia, and he had twenty-four hours' leisure every day,which he could devote to being king of Riseholme.... His nature flaredup, burning with a red revolutionary flame, that was fed by his secretknowledge about Olga Bracely. Why should Lucia rule everyone with herrod of iron? Why, and again why?

  Suddenly he heard his name called in the familiar alto, and there wasLucia in her Shakespeare's garden.

  "Georgino! Georgino mio!" she cried. "Gino!"

  Out of mere habit Georgie got down from his stile, and tripped up theroad towards her. The manly seething of his soul's insurrection rebukedhim, but unfortunately his legs and his voice surrendered. Habit wasstrong....

  "Amica!" he answered. "Buon Giorno." ("And why do I say it in Italian?"he vainly asked himself.)

  "Geordie, come and have ickle talk," she said. "Me want 'oo wise man toadvise ickle Lucia."

  "What 'oo want?" asked Georgie, now quite quelled for the moment.

  "Lots-things. Here's pwetty flower for button-holie. Now tell me aboutblack man. Him no snakes have? Why Mrs Quantock say she thinks he nocome to poo' Lucia's party-garden?"

  "Oh, did she?" asked Georgie relapsing into the vernacular.

  "Yes, oh, and by the way there's a parcel come which I think must bethe Mozart trio. Will you come over tomorrow morning and read it withme? Yes? About half-past eleven, then. But never mind that."

  She fixed him with her ready, birdy eye.

  "Daisy asked me to ask him," she said, "and so to oblige poor Daisy Idid. And now she says she doesn't know if he'll come. What does thatmean? Is it possible that she wants to keep him to herself? She hasdone that sort of thing before, you know."

  This probably represented Lucia's statement of the said case about theWelsh attorney, and Georgie taking it as such felt rather embarrassed.Also that bird-like eye seemed to gimlet its way into his very soul,and divine the secret disloyalty that he had been contemplating. If shehad continued to look into him, he might not only have confessed to thegloomiest suspicions about Mrs Quantock, but have let go of his secretabout Olga Bracely also, and suggested the possibility of her and herhusband being brought to the garden-party. But the eye at this momentunscrewed itself from him again and travelled up the road.

  "There's the Guru," she said. "Now we will see!"

  Georgie, faint with emotion, peered out between the form of the peacockand the pine-apple on the yew-hedge, and saw what followed. Lucia wentstraight up to the Guru, bowed and smiled and clearly introducedherself. In another moment he was showing his white teeth andsalaaming, and together they walked back to The Hurst, where Georgiepalpitated behind the yew-hedge. Together they entered and Lucia's eyewore its most benignant aspect.

  "I want to introduce to you, Guru," she said without a stumble, "agreat friend of mine. This is Mr Pillson, Guru; Guru, Mr Pillson. TheGuru is coming to tiffin with me, Georgie. Cannot I persuade you tostop?"

  "Delighted!" said Georgie. "We met before in a sort of way, didn't we?"

  "Yes, indeed. So pleased," said the Guru.

  "Let us go in," said Lucia, "It is close on lunch-time."

  Georgie followed, after a great many bowings and politenesses from theGuru. He was not sure if he had the makings of a Bolshevist. Lucia wasso marvellously efficient.