When, presently, after this, Frank Abbott took his leave he got as far as the first step into the hall and then came back. After all, what was the odds? If Maudie knew, she knew. He might just as well have the smooth with the rough. He said in his most detached manner,
“By the way, you could trust Judy Elliot. She’s got a head on her shoulders and she’d be good at a pinch. As a matter of fact, I’ve told her about you. She knows you may be coming down.”
Miss Silver looked right through him. That at least was his impression-a very probing glance which reproved, admonished, and, a good deal to his relief, condoned. She said,
“My dear Frank! I trust that she will be discreet.”
chapter 10
Miss Columba announced Miss Silver’s forthcoming arrival at the evening meal which everyone except Miss Janetta and Robbins now called supper. That is to say, in reply to Roger’s jerky “When are you expecting your friend Miss Silver?” she produced the single word “Tomorrow.”
There was immediately a slight domestic stir. Lona Day looked up as if she were going to speak, and then down again. Miss Netta turned upon her sister with a flounce of heliotrope silk.
“Your friend Miss Silver? I’ve never heard of her. Who is she?”
It was Roger who supplied the answer.
“An old schoolfellow. I met her in town. She wanted to get down into the country for a bit, so I asked her here.” He crumbled a bit of bread with a nervous hand, whilst Judy pricked up her ears, and thought what wasteful creatures men were.
“Schoolfellow?” said Miss Netta in an exasperated voice. “My dear Roger! Collie, who is this person, and why haven’t I ever heard of her?”
Miss Columba continued to eat fish in a perfectly collected manner. In contrast to her sister’s bright rustling silk she herself wore a voluminous garment of tobacco-coloured woollen material which had once been an afternoon dress. It was still warm, and nothing would have induced her to part with it. She said,
“I suppose she would be about my age. She has been a governess.”
After which she went on eating fish.
Later, in the morning-room, used instead of the big drawing-room because it was so much easier to warm, Lona Day said to Judy what she had stopped herself saying at the table.
“I do wish he hadn’t asked anyone else down just now. Of course I can’t say anything-or at least I don’t like to. I don’t know Roger so well as the rest of the family, but it isn’t-no, it really isn’t good for Captain Pilgrim.”
Judy thought, “How odd-she says she doesn’t know Roger, but she calls him by his name, and she talks about Jerome as Captain Pilgrim. If there’s anyone in the world she must know inside out, it’s him. Of course he’s older than Roger, and so is she. I wonder how old she is-thirty-fivish? She ought always to wear black velvet.”
Here she had to repress a giggle at the idea of all the things a nurse has to do. It petered out, because the likeness which had bothered her on her first evening came sharply to her mind, and this time she caught it. Lona Day in a long black velvet housecoat, with her auburn hair taken loosely back off her forehead, bore a quite undeniable resemblance to the portraits of Mary Queen of Scots. There was the look in the eyes, the look that charmed. There was the warm and winning way. Of course, she ought to have had a ruff, and one of those entrancing little caps, or a Scots bonnet with a feather at the side. Judy found the idea so beguiling that she lost everything except Lona’s voice flowing on in a rich undertone.
When she came to, Miss Day was saying,
“I know he likes to have her, and I hate to deprive him of the least pleasure, but I can’t help feeling anxious. You do understand, don’t you?”
Judy hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about, and hoped for a gleam of light. It came.
“She is such a darling child, but I do feel perhaps it would be wiser if you could keep her out of his room.”
“But, Miss Day, he loves having her, and honestly, I think it is doing him good.”
“I know. But he really does have to be kept very quiet. Those stories he tells her-I’m afraid of the effect it may have on him. You see, he used to write. I’m afraid of his wanting to start doing it again.”
“Why shouldn’t he? I should have thought it would be a very good thing.”
Lona shook her head.
“I’m afraid not-too exciting. That is what we have to avoid at any cost-he mustn’t get excited.”
Judy felt a queer sort of antagonism rising in her. How could it do Jerome Pilgrim any harm to make up stories for a child of four? She thought, “They’ve all got into a regular fuss about him. I should think the most of what’s the matter with him now is being nearly bored to death. I won’t stop Penny if he wants her.”
As if Lona Day was aware of what was passing in her mind, she smiled rather sadly and said,
“You think it’s nonsense, don’t you? I suppose that’s natural. But we are all so fond of him, and so sorry-we have all tried so hard to help him. And of course you don’t know how much care he needs. If you were to see him in one of his attacks you would understand-but I hope you never will.”
Judy felt as if a cold finger had touched her spine. She was being warned. She was being warned about Penny.
As if she had spoken the name aloud, Lona said,
“Don’t leave her alone with him, my dear.”
Then she got up and went over to sit by Miss Janetta.
Miss Silver came down next day, arriving in time for tea, at which she appeared in indoor dress, her hair neat under its net, her feet in beaded slippers, her knitting-bag upon her arm. She might have been in the house for weeks. Avoiding the difficult question of Christian names by the use of an occasional “My dear,” she further placated Miss Columba by addressing to her only such remarks as were in no need of an answer. For the rest, she found something to say to everyone else, and when tea was over won Miss Janetta’s heart by her interest in the current chair-cover. The interest was perfectly genuine. She could, and did, admire the pattern, the colour-scheme, the small fine stitches, the pink and blue roses on a ground of pastel grey. Very charming-very charming indeed. Really most beautiful work.
With Miss Day she conversed upon other topics. A nurse has such an interesting life. Such opportunities for studying character. And sometimes for travel. Had Miss Day travelled at all?… Oh, in the East? How very, very interesting! China perhaps?… No? India?… How intensely interesting! Such a wonderful country.
“I have not had the opportunity of travelling myself. The scholastic profession is, to that extent, rather limiting.”
“Do you still teach?”
Miss Silver gave her slight cough.
“No, I have retired.”
Jerome Pilgrim kept his room that afternoon. When Judy came down to supper she found her feet halting and reluctant. The farther they took her from Penny, the more clearly did Lona Day’s words come echoing back in the empty spaces of her mind-“Don’t leave her alone with him, my dear.”
“Don’t leave her alone-” But she was leaving Penny alone, and just along at the end of the passage was the door behind which Jerome Pilgrim sat in his big chair. She knew quite well by now just how he would look, sitting there, his head propped on his hand, staring into the fire. Suppose he really wasn’t sane. Suppose he was dangerous. Suppose-no, she couldn’t even suppose that he would hurt Penny. But… Her feet stopped of their own accord, and she found that she was turning round and going back. Frank hadn’t wanted her to come here-Frank had begged her not to come. And she had been obstinate about it.
She had almost reached her own door, when the door at the end of the passage opened and Jerome came out in a dark suit, with the rubber-shod stick he used about the house. As she stood uncertain and a little afraid, he called out to her in a friendly manner,