IV

That afternoon we were to go to tea with Miss Emily Barton at her roomsin the village.

We strolled down there on foot, for I felt strong enough now to managethe hill back again.

We must actually have allowed too much time and got there early, forthe door was opened to us by a tall rawboned fierce-looking woman whotold us that Miss Barton wasn’t in yet.

“But she’s expecting you, I know, so if you’ll come up and wait, please.”

This was evidently Faithful Florence.

We followed her up the stairs and she threw open a door and showed usinto what was quite a comfortable sitting room, though perhaps a littleover- furnished. Some of the things, I suspected, had come from LittleFurze.

The woman was clearly proud of her room.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she demanded.

“Very nice,” said Joanna warmly.

“I make her as comfortable as I can. Not that I can do for her as I’d liketo and in the way she ought to have. She ought to be in her own house,properly, not turned out into rooms.”

Florence, who was clearly a dragon, looked from one to the other of usreproachfully. It was not, I felt, our lucky day. Joanna had been ticked offby Aimée Griffith and Partridge and now we were both being ticked off bythe dragon Florence.

“Parlourmaid I was for fifteen years there,” she added.

Joanna, goaded by injustice, said:

“Well, Miss Barton wanted to let the house. She put it down at the houseagents.”

“Forced to it,” said Florence. “And she living so frugal and careful. Buteven then, the government can’t leave her alone! Has to have its pound offlesh just the same.”

I shook my head sadly.

“Plenty of money there was in the old lady’s time,” said Florence. “Andthen they all died off one by one, poor dears. Miss Emily nursing of themone after the other. Wore herself out she did, and always so patient anduncomplaining. But it told on her, and then to have worry about moneyon top of it all! Shares not bringing in what they used to, so she says, andwhy not, I should like to know? They ought to be ashamed of themselves.

Doing down a lady like her who’s got no head for figures and can’t be upto their tricks.”

“Practically everyone has been hit that way,” I said, but Florence re-mained unsoftened.

“It’s all right for some as can look after themselves, but not for her. Sheneeds looking after, and as long as she’s with me I’m going to see no oneimposes on her or upsets her in anyway. I’d do anything for Miss Emily.”

And glaring at us for some moments in order to drive that point thor-oughly home, the indomitable Florence left the room, carefully shuttingthe door behind her.

“Do you feel like a bloodsucker, Jerry?” inquired Joanna. “Because I do.

What’s the matter with us?”

“We don’t seem to be going down very well,” I said. “Megan gets tired ofus, Partridge disapproves of you, faithful Florence disapproves of both ofus.”

Joanna murmured, “I wonder why Megan did leave?”

“She got bored.”

“I don’t think she did at all. I wonder—do you think, Jerry, it could havebeen something that Aimée Griffith said?”

“You mean this morning, when they were talking on the doorstep.”

“Yes. There’s wasn’t much time, of course, but—” I finished the sentence.

“But that woman’s got the tread of a cow elephant! She might have—”

The door opened and Miss Emily came in. She was pink and a little outof breath and seemed excited. Her eyes were very blue and shining.

She chirruped at us in quite a distracted manner.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry I’m late. Just doing a little shopping in the town,and the cakes at the Blue Rose didn’t seem to me quite fresh, so I went onto Mrs. Lygon’s. I always like to get my cakes the last thing, then one getsthe newest batch just out of the oven, and one isn’t put off with the day be-fore’s. But I am so distressed to have kept you waiting—really unpardon-able—”

Joanna cut in.

“It’s our fault, Miss Barton. We’re early. We walked down and Jerrystrides along so fast now that we arrive everywhere too soon.”

“Never too soon, dear. Don’t say that. One cannot have too much of agood thing, you know.”

And the old lady patted Joanna affectionately on the shoulder.

Joanna brightened up. At last, so it seemed, she was being a success.

Emily Barton extended her smile to include me, but with a slight timidityin it, rather as one might approach a man-eating tiger guaranteed for themoment harmless.

“It’s very good of you to come to such a feminine meal as tea, Mr. Bur-ton.”

Emily Barton, I think, has a mental picture of men as interminably con-suming whiskies and sodas and smoking cigars, and in the intervals drop-ping out to do a few seductions of village maidens, or to conduct a liaisonwith a married woman.

When I said this to Joanna later, she replied that it was probably wishfulthinking, that Emily Barton would have liked to come across such a man,but alas had never done so.

In the meantime Miss Emily was fussing round the room, arrangingJoanna and myself with little tables, and carefully providing ashtrays, anda minute later the door opened and Florence came in bearing a tray of teawith some fine Crown Derby cups on it which I gathered Miss Emily hadbrought with her. The tea was china and delicious and there were platesof sandwiches and thin bread and butter, and a quantity of little cakes.

Florence was beaming now, and looked at Miss Emily with a kind of ma-ternal pleasure, as at a favourite child enjoying a doll’s tea party.

Joanna and I ate far more than we wanted to, our hostess pressed us soearnestly. The little lady was clearly enjoying her tea party and I per-ceived that, to Emily Barton, Joanna and I were a big adventure, twopeople from the mysterious world of London and sophistication.

Naturally, our talk soon dropped into local channels. Miss Barton spokewarmly of Dr. Griffith, his kindness and his cleverness as a doctor. Mr.

Symmington, too, was a very clever lawyer, and had helped Miss Barton toget some money back from the income tax which she would never haveknown about. He was so nice to his children, too, devoted to them and tohis wife—she caught herself up. “Poor Mrs. Symmington, it’s so dreadfullysad, with those young children left motherless. Never, perhaps, a verystrong woman—and her health had been bad of late. A brain storm, that iswhat it must have been. I read about such a thing in the paper. Peoplereally do not know what they are doing under those circumstances. Andshe can’t have known what she was doing or else she would have re-membered Mr. Symmington and the children.”

“That anonymous letter must have shaken her up very badly,” saidJoanna.

Miss Barton flushed. She said, with a tinge of reproof in her voice:

“Not a very nice thing to discuss, do you think, dear? I know there havebeen—er—letters, but we won’t talk about them. Nasty things. I think theyare better just ignored.”

Well, Miss Barton might be able to ignore them, but for some people itwasn’t so easy. However I obediently changed the subject and we dis-cussed Aimée Griffith.

“Wonderful, quite wonderful,” said Emily Barton. “Her energy and herorganizing powers are really splendid. She’s so good with girls too. Andshe’s so practical and up-to-date in every way. She really runs this place.

And absolutely devoted to her brother. It’s very nice to see such devotionbetween brother and sister.”

“Doesn’t he ever find her a little overwhelming?” asked Joanna.

Emily Barton stared at her in a startled fashion.

“She has sacrificed a great deal for his sake,” she said with a touch of re-proachful dignity.

I saw a touch of Oh Yeay! in Joanna’s eye and hastened to divert the con-versation to Mr. Pye.

Emily Barton was a little dubious about Mr. Pye.

All she could say was, repeated rather doubtfully, that he was very kind— yes, very kind. Very well off, too, and most generous. He had verystrange visitors sometimes, but then, of course, he had travelled a lot.

We agreed that travel not only broadened the mind, but occasionallyresulted in the forming of strange acquaintances.

“I have often wished, myself, to go on a cruise,” said Emily Barton wist-fully. “One reads about them in the papers and they sound so attractive.”

“Why don’t you go?” asked Joanna.

This turning of a dream into a reality seemed to alarm Miss Emily. “Oh,no, no, that would be quite impossible.”

“But why? They’re fairly cheap.”

“Oh, it’s not only the expense. But I shouldn’t like to go alone. Travellingalone would look very peculiar, don’t you think?”

“No,” said Joanna.

Miss Emily looked at her doubtfully.

“And I don’t know how I would manage about my luggage—and goingashore at foreign ports—and all the different currencies—”

Innumerable pitfalls seemed to rise up before the little lady’s affrightedgaze, and Joanna hastened to calm her by a question about an approach-ing garden fête and sale of work. This led us quite naturally to Mrs. DaneCalthrop.

A faint spasm showed for a minute on Miss Barton’s face.

“You know, dear,” she said, “she is really a very odd woman. The thingsshe says sometimes.”

I asked what things.

“Oh, I don’t know. Such very unexpected things. And the way she looksat you, as though you weren’t there but somebody else was—I’m express-ing it badly but it is so hard to convey the impression I mean. And thenshe won’t—well, interfere at all. There are so many cases where a vicar’swife could advise and—perhaps admonish. Pull people up, you know, andmake them mend their ways. Because people would listen to her, I’m sureof that, they’re all quite in awe of her. But she insists on being aloof andfaraway, and has such a curious habit of feeling sorry for the most un-worthy people.”

“That’s interesting,” I said, exchanging a quick glance with Joanna.

“Still, she is a very well-bred woman. She was a Miss Farroway of Bell-path, very good family, but these old families sometimes are a little pecu-liar, I believe. But she is devoted to her husband who is a man of very fineintellect—wasted, I am sometimes afraid, in this country circle. A goodman, and most sincere, but I always find his habit of quoting Latin a littleconfusing.”

“Hear, hear,” I said fervently.

“Jerry had an expensive public school education, so he doesn’t recognizeLatin when he hears it,” said Joanna.

This led Miss Barton to a new topic.

“The schoolmistress here is a most unpleasant young woman,” she said.

“Quite Red, I’m afraid.” She lowered her voice over the word “Red.”

Later, as we walked home up the hill, Joanna said to me:

“She’s rather sweet.”