“I do not know that I agree. These psychological terms! A little extreme! And Benjy is only four. It is at these times that a mother wins her children’s confidence.”
It was not in the least necessary for Miss Silver to reply, since Miranda was always ready to go on talking. This was fortunate, because she had no desire to be quoted as disapproving of Mr. Craddock. She listened with interest to a description of his aura, and to the assertion that he was intensely psychic.
“Had he given his mind to it he would have been a wonderful medium. But he resists. I have told him so plainly. I have said, ‘Peveril, you resist,’ and he has not denied it. His work lies in other directions-he has told me so. You know, of course, that he is engaged upon a Monumental Work. It was very good of him to come this afternoon. Most gratifying for Gwyneth and Elaine, but they should not expect him to waste his time at social functions. They adore him of course. Gwyneth wove the stuff of that white smock, and Elaine embroidered it with the Signs of the Zodiac. It is very becoming, but I do not know that Emily was pleased. She is no needlewoman, and does not rise above the mending-basket.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“There is a good deal of mending.”
Miranda was attired in a long black velvet robe. It was low in the neck, and the hanging sleeves disclosed a pair of strong white arms. Her red hair had been combed and was partially confined by a purple fillet. It threatened to break loose now as she made a vigorous gesture.
“There should not be so much. The children wear nothing but shorts and jerseys. Jennifer should do her own mending. Even Maurice could learn to use a darning-needle. Emily has the slave mentality. She allows herself to be Put On.” She contrived to invest this homely phrase with a gloomy significance which persisted through an enumeration of other weak points in Emily Craddock’s character.
“She cannot cook.” Miranda’s tone was tragic. “I have tasted lentils there which were not fit for human consumption. I will not say that I have eaten them. That was Impossible! The position was serious-we feared for Peveril’s health. But Mrs. Masters now prepares the meals before she leaves. She cannot, of course, do the housework as well, and since it is beyond Emily’s strength, I fear that much of it remains undone. Marriage makes more demands upon women than it did. They should learn to cook and to make use of labour-saving appliances. But when I suggested a vacuum-cleaner, Emily asserted that it would use too much current. Now I happen to know that the electric light installation is an extremely powerful one. I said to her, ‘Emily, you are being obstructive,’ and she could not deny it. She is one of those people who appear to yield but contrive to get their own way. In the matter of the electric current she does not know what she is talking about. I do not believe in concealing my opinion. I told her so.”
It was at this moment that a door opened at the head of the stairs and Thomasina Elliot appeared. She wore a grey dress which matched her eyes, and she had a most becoming colour in her cheeks. As it happened, she saw Miss Silver before Miss Silver saw her. Since she had known that they would meet, the sight did not surprise her. Her colour deepened a little, but she continued on her way down. She had in fact reached the seventh step, when Miranda exclaimed and Miss Silver looked up. She did not require the information contained in a contralto whisper, but she undoubtedly sustained a shock. Not only was she quite unprepared for the appearance of Thomasina Elliot, but nothing could have given her less pleasure. With commendable self-control she turned to Miranda.
“You said-?”
“Elaine and Gwyneth’s paying guest. They have one sometimes, but not generally so young. They knew this girl’s aunt in Wyshmere.”
Thomasina had reached the foot of the stairs. She was being introduced to Emily, to Peveril, to the little man in a blue blouse who was Augustus Remington, to Miranda, to Miss Silver herself.
“This is our young friend, Ina Elliot. We have delightful recollections of her aunt, Mrs. Brandon.
Miss Silver took her cue. Since Thomasina was being introduced as a stranger, strangers they would be. She said in a reserved tone,
“How do you do, Miss Elliot? Are you making a long stay?”
Thomasina was not insensitive. She was prepared for disapproval, but she had not known that it would affect her so unpleasantly. She had not felt so much in the wrong since her first year at school. It was most dreadfully undermining. She found herself tripping over her words.
“I d-don’t know. It d-depends.”
Miss Silver continued to look through her. She said,
“Town is, I think, preferable at this time of year, unless there is work that takes one into the country. But that would not be your case.”
Thomasina said, “N-no.” She had not stammered since she was ten years old. She was furious with herself and with Miss Silver.
Miss Elaine struck in.
“We hope that she will stay as long as she can. Such a pleasure. But she must not find it dull. Now I wonder-” she addressed Miss Silver-“if you and the children are walking tomorrow, whether she might join you. She is so very fond of children-are you not, my dear?”
“If I shouldn’t be in the way-” said Thomasina Elliot.
There was a pleading note in her voice, but Miss Silver’s look did not soften. She gave a grave assent and turned from Thomasina to meet Augustus Remington, brought up to her by Miss Gwyneth. He was a slender creature, pale and wispy like a plant that has grown in the dark-hair of the colour called lint-white in Scotland, soft and unsubstantial as a baby’s-slender hands, slender feet-rather indeterminate features. He wore blue corduroy trousers and a belted blouse of the same pattern as Mr. Craddock’s, but without embroidery. He had a whispering way of talking, and used his hands a good deal.
“Miranda has told me about you. She said you were psychic -or did she-I don’t know. Perhaps she said you were not psychic-I have a most distressing memory, and Miranda talks so much. Now are you, or are you not?”
“I have no claim to being psychic, Mr. Remington.”
He threw up his hands in horror.
“Not that formal name! The legacy of ancestors from whom one strives to free oneself! Besides, too, too suggestive of the typewriter! Could anything be more repugnant! What distasteful visions it calls up-rattle, rattle, rattle-click, click, click! Could anything describe me less! No-call me Augustus! It suggests the spacious peace of summer days-mellow pastures -the lap of water-the murmur of bees and of the homing dove. What is your name?”
In the interests of her profession Miss Silver was prepared for many sacrifices, but there were limits. She was not prepared to be called Maud by Augustus Remington. She said primly,
“I prefer to be addressed as Miss Silver.”
CHAPTER XV
You should not have come,” said Miss Silver on a note of severity.
Thomasina’s colour brightened.
“I just felt I had to.”
Ahead of them, Jennifer ran up the sloping path with the other two after her. She was fleet of foot and the boys could not catch her. She had time to stop and wave to them, or hurl insulting names such as Slowworm, Tortoise, Dilly-dally. The afternoon was grey, but in the west the clouds had broken to show a stretch of pale faint blue.
Miss Silver shook her head disapprovingly:
“It is most unwise to give way to impulse. Have you considered that Miss Ball may have spoken of you to the Craddocks?”
“Anna never spoke about people.”
“Or that they may have seen the advertisement you put in the Times-‘Anna, where are you? Do write. Thomasina.’ Anyone who had read that might find the juxtaposition of these two names suggestive.”