Maud, who had brought the Diplomat to a triumphant conclusion, was inspired to suggest suddenly that Paula should recite something. "I am very fond of a good recitation," she said. "I remember that I used to know a very touching poem about a man who died of thirst on the Llano Estacado. I forget why, but I think he was riding to some place or other. I know it was extremely dramatic, but it is many years since I last did it, and I have forgotten it."
Everyone breathed again. Paula said that she didn't go in for recitations, but that if Uncle Nat had not elected to play Bridge, she would have asked Willoughby to read his play to them.
"That would have been very enjoyable, I expect," said Maud placidly.
It was not Nathaniel's custom to keep late hours, nor was he the kind of host who altered his habits to suit the convenience of his guests. At eleven o'clock, the Bridgeplayers came back into the drawing-room, where a tray of drinks was awaiting them, and Nathaniel said that for his part he was going to bed.
Edgar Mottisfont ventured to say: "I had hoped to have a chat with you, Nat."
Nathaniel darted a look at him from under his bushy brows. "Can't talk business at this hour of night," he said.
"Well, I want a word with you, too," said Paula.
"You won't get it," Nathaniel replied, with a short laugh.
Maud was gathering up her cards. "Dear me, eleven already? I think I shall go up too."
Valerie looked rather appalled at this prospect of having to retire at such an unaccustomed hour, but was relieved to hear Joseph say cheerfully: "Well, I hope no one else means to run off yet! The night's young, eh, Valerie? What do you say to going into the billiard-room, and turning on the wireless?"
"You'd be a great deal better in bed," said Nathaniel, on whom Joseph's high spirits seemed to exercise a baleful influence.
"Not I!" Joseph declared. "I'll tell you what, Nat: you'd be much better enjoying yourself with us!"
His evil genius prompted him to clap his brother on the back as he said this. It was plain to everyone that the playful blow fell between Nat's shoulders, but Nathaniel, who hated to be touched, at once groaned, and jaculated: "My lumbago!"
He left the room withh the gait of a cripple, holding his hand to the small of his back, in a gesture which his relatives knew well, but which made Valerie open her lovely eyes very wide, and say: "I'd no idea lumbago was as bad as that!"
"It isn't. That's just my dear Uncle Nat playing up," said Stephen, handing a whisky-and-soda to Mathilda.
"No, no, that isn't quite fair!" protested Joseph. "Why, I've known poor old Nat to be set fast with it! I'm a stupid fellow: I daresay I did jar him. I wonder if I had better go after him?"
"No, Joe," said Mathilda kindly. "You mean well, but you'll only annoy him. Why is our little Paula looking like the Tragic Muse?"
"This awful house!" ejaculated Paula. "How any of you can spend an hour in it and not feel the atmosphere - !"
"Pray silence for Mrs. Siddons!" said Stephen, regarding her with a sardonic eye.
"Oh, you can scoff!" she flung at him. "But even you must feel the tension!"
"Well, do you know, it's an awfully funny thing, because I'm not a bit psychic, or anything like that, but I do see what Paula means," said Valerie. "It's a kind of an atmosphere." She turned to Roydon. "You could write a marvellous play about it, couldn't you?"
"I don't know that it would be quite in my line," he replied.
"Oh, I have an absolute conviction that you're the sort of person who could write a marvellous play about simply anything!" said Valerie, raising admiring eyes to his face.
"Even guinea-pigs?" asked Stephen, introducing a discordant note.
The playwright flushed. "Very funny!"
Mathilda perceived that Mr. Roydon was unused to being laughed at. "Let me advise you to pay little if any heed to my cousin Stephen!" she said.
Stephen never minded what Mathilda said to him; he only grinned; but Joseph, at no time remarkable for tact, brought the saturnine look back to his face by saying: "Oh, we all know what an old bear Stephen likes to pretend to be!"
"God!" said Stephen, very distinctly.
Paula sprang up, thrusting the hair back from her brow with one of her hasty gestures. "That's what I mean! You're all of you behaving like this because the house has got you! It's the tension: something stretching and stretching until it snaps! Stephen's always worse when he's here; I'm on edge; Valerie flirts with Willoughby to make Stephen jealous; Uncle Joe's nervous, saying the wrong thing: not wanting to, but impelled to!"
"Well, really!" exclaimed Valerie. "I must say!"
"Let no one think I'm not enjoying myself!" begged Mathilda. "Yule-tide, children, and all that! These old fashioned Christmases!"
Roydon said thoughtfully: "I know what you mean, of course. Personally, I believe profoundly in the influence of environment."
"'After which short speech,"' quoted Stephen, "'they all cheered."'
Joseph clapped his hands. "Now, now, now, that's quite enough! Who says radio?"
"Yes, let's!" begged Valerie. "The dance music will be on. Mr. Roydon, I just know you're a dancer!"
Willoughby disclaimed, but was borne off, not entirely unwillingly. He was a little dazzled by Valerie's beauty, and although a sane voice within him told him that her flattery was inane, he did not find it unpleasant. Paula was a more stimulating companion, but although she admired him, and had an intelligent appreciation of his work, she was apt to be exhausting, and (he sometimes thought) distinctly over-critical. So he went off with Valerie and Joseph, reflecting that even geniuses must have their moments of relaxation.
"I must say, I don't blame Uncle Nat for barring your intended, Stephen," said Paula fairly.
Stephen did not seem to mind this candid opinion of his taste. He strolled over to the fire, and lowered his long limbs into an armchair. "The perfect anodyne," he said. "By the way, I don't think your latest pick-up so bloody hot."
"Willoughby? Oh, I know, but he's got genius! I don't care about anything else. Besides, I'm not in love with him. But what you can see in that brainless doll beats me!"
"My good girl, what I see in her must be abundantly plain to everyone," said Stephen. "This playwriting wen of yours sees it too, not to mention Joe, whose tongue is fairly hanging out."
"Close-up of the Herriards," said Mathilda, lying back in her chair, and lazily regarding brother and sister. "Cads, both. Carry on: don't mind me."
"Well, I believe in being honest," said Paula. "You are a fool, Stephen! She wouldn't have got engaged to you if she hadn't thought you'd come in for all Uncle Nat's money."
"I know," said Stephen blandly.
"And if you ask me she came down here with you on purpose to mash Uncle Nat."
"I know," said Stephen again.
Their eyes met; Stephen's lips twitched suddenly, and, while Mathilda lay and watched them, he and Paula went off into fits of helpless laughter."
"You and your Willoughby, and me and my Val!" gasped Stephen. "Oh, lord!"
Paula dried her eyes, instantly sobered by the mention of her play wright. "Yes, I know it's funny, but I'm serious about that, because he really has written a great play, and I'm going to act the lead in it, if it's the last thing I do. I shall get him to read it aloud to you all tomorrow -"
"What? Oh, God, be good to me! Not to Uncle as well? Don't, Paula, it hurts!"
"When you've quite finished," said Mathilda, "will you explain the exact nature of this treat you have in store for us, Paula? Are you going to read your own part, or is it to be a one-man show?"
"I shall let Willoughby read nearly all himself. He does it very well. I might do my big scene, perhaps."
"And you actually think, my poor, besotted wench, that this intellectual feast is going to soften your Uncle Nat's heart? Now it's my turn to enjoy a laugh!"