When at last it was time to expect Jeffries with the car, everything was ready. Just as she heard the distant ring of the front doorbell her mother called out:
‘What are you doing, Rosie?’
‘I’ve just made a cup of tea for you and Jeffries, a sort of stirrup cup,’ she said. And without waiting for a reply she ran downstairs with Carbonel in the cauldron covered with the old rug, and the broom under her arm. She did not run far, because it was so heavy, but she got safely to the hall at last. She placed the precious things so that when she opened the door they would be out of sight behind it, and then she flung the door back. There was John on the doorstep – an unfamiliar John with neatly brushed hair, socks, and a long-sleeved shirt with a tie.
‘What an age you have been,’ he said. ‘I thought you were never coming. What are you pulling faces for?’ he began. Rosemary interrupted hurriedly.
‘I promised Mrs Walker that I would open the door because of her poor feet, you know.’ And turning to Jeffries she said, ‘Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve just made one for you.’
‘But we’ve only just finished dinner,’ said John, who seemed determined to make things as difficult as possible.
‘Not you, silly! Mr Jeffries. It’s all ready upstairs.’
‘Very kind of you, I’m sure,’ said the chauffeur. ‘I can always do with a cuppa.’
Rosemary waited until his gleaming leggings had disappeared up the first flight of stairs; then she said to John, who was looking extremely puzzled:
‘You are stupid! I only did that so that we could get the things in the car without being seen.’ And she closed the door.
‘All right, keep your hair on!’ said John cheerfully. ‘How was I to know that?’
‘I didn’t mean to be cross, but it was horrid when Jeffries thought I was being kind, and really I only wanted to get him out of the way, like Mummy thinking I was being thoughtful when I suggested taking the rug to cover the things.’
Rosemary moved the door so that they could see the cauldron behind it. Carbonel poked a ruffled head out from under the rug and said crossly:
‘I do not like being referred to as “Things”!’ and disappeared suddenly as they thought they heard Mrs Walker coming up from the basement.
The children put the cauldron on the floor in the back of the car, with the broom beside it, and the rug arranged carefully on top.
‘It doesn’t show too much,’ said John.
‘Have you got the book?’ asked Rosemary anxiously. He nodded.
‘About the only advantage of this silly get-up is that there is more room to hide things.’
‘To think we have got everything except the Hat!’ said Rosemary happily.
There was no time to discuss things any further, because just at that moment Jeffries opened the door of the car for Mrs Brown to get into the front seat.
‘Are you all right there?’ said the chauffeur. The two children nodded. He pressed the starter, and they were off to Walsingham Court.
22
The F?te
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Walsingham Court was one of the show places of the neighbourhood. The gardens where the f?te was held were magnificent. I am not going to describe them to you, any more than I am going to describe the f?te, because if you think of the most beautiful rose gardens and yew walks, and rock gardens and herbaceous borders and orangeries that you have ever seen, you will know exactly what it was like. Just as you will know what the f?te was like, with stalls and hoop-las, and tombolas and raffles, and Punch and Judy shows and fortune-tellers. It was hot and sunny, and the children and Mrs Brown wandered round enjoying every bit of it. They spent all their money within the first half-hour, but it did not seem to matter, because there was so much to look at.
Presently Mrs Brown said:
‘I simply must sit down! I think I shall watch the dancing display from a deck chair. Would you two like to go off on your own?’
This was the moment they had been waiting for. Rosemary nodded.
‘All right, dears. But be back by quarter to four because we have got tickets for the first tea.’
There was no time to reply, because the enclosure reserved for the dancers had already been invaded by a dozen little girls in very pink crinolines and poke bonnets. They were apparently showing their unwillingness to go walking with an equal number of little girls dressed as boys.
‘And I don’t blame them,’ said John. ‘Why can’t they just say, “Not likely!” or something, instead of this silly dumb crambo business? Come on. I saw where the Netherley Players are doing their stuff.’
Secretly Rosemary would like to have watched the dancing, but she knew that they had a great deal to do and not much time in which to do it. There was a series of notices which pointed the way to the Netherley Players. It seemed that they were giving three performances. The one at two-thirty was over and the next was at five, with a final one at seven. The arrows led to a green, grassy amphitheatre which sloped gently down to a broad paved terrace, behind which was a mass of flowering shrubs and trees.
‘What a lovely place for acting!’ said Rosemary. ‘And look, there is a summer-house over there. I expect that is where they change their clothes. Let’s go and see.’
They made their way down the aisle between the rows of empty chairs towards the summer-house. It was a wooden building with two low storeys and a thatched roof. Both children silently thought that it would be first-rate for playing in. When they reached the three shallow steps which led to the door, they became aware that someone was arguing inside.
‘I told you it was ridiculous to agree to do two plays,’ said a girl’s voice crossly.
‘And I told you that we should not have got the engagement if we hadn’t. Lady Soffit was sure that the same people would come twice if the second performance was something different,’ said a man’s voice. A third person said something that they could not hear and the man replied:
‘Well, now we’ve got to. The tickets and bills are all distributed. Wemust put on the Dream at five o’clock, if we have to do it in flannel bags. I know you didn’t mean to leave half the tunics behind, but can’t you make some more? You have got an hour and a half. There are those old curtains in the van you could cut up. I suppose you didn’t leave the sewing machine behind as well?’
‘Don’t rub it in, Bill. I am most terribly sorry. Of course I haven’t left the sewing machine behind. I’ll try. But I don’t see how I can do it all in time single-handed,’ said the girl’s voice.
‘Good heavens!’ replied the man. ‘Surely, with three women in the company, you can turn out something?’
‘You know quite well that Megs and Sara are completely ham-handed,’ said the first voice. ‘Nobody would dare to sit down in anything they had made!’
John and Rosemary on the step outside suddenly realized that they were eavesdropping, so John knocked on the door, which swung open as he did so. A man stood with his back to them, but hearing the knock he turned. It was the Occupier. His hair was standing on end as though he had just been running his hands through it, and he said ungraciously:
‘What do you want?’
‘It’s us, sir!’ said John.
‘Who on earth is “Us”? Good heavens, if it isn’t the Lathero twins! Now run away, there’s good children. We’re in a frightful jam. We’ve left half the clothes behind. There isn’t time to fetch them, and these useless women don’t seem capable of making any more in time!’ And he ran his fingers through his hair again so that it looked even wilder than before.
‘I know. We heard. We didn’t mean to listen, but you were talking so loudly that we couldn’t help it,’ said John. But Rosemary interrupted.
‘Well, I know who could make them for you if anyone could, and that is my mother. She is a real dressmaker.’