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Authors: Juliet Armstrong

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CHAPTER
TEN

Whatever C
atherine felt about the

surprise

so carefully planned for her—and her emotions were decidedly mixed—she had no time for comment of any kind.

Andrew

s long, deliberate stride—the characteristic stride of a farmer, she had often thought
,
brought him abreast with them now; and taking her hand in his, he smiled down at her, an air of school-boyish mischief on his tanned features, and wished her,

Many happy returns.


But I

ve an apology to make,

he went on, forgetting, it seemed, to free her hand.

Queer how I always seem to be apologizing to you, isn

t it! This time it is because, having accepted the invitation to your party, I find I can

t stay.

Now she discovered that her feelings were not mixed at all. A sharp sense of disappointment pervaded her, and her smile, as she disengaged her hand, was cool.


It was absurd of Ruth to ask you,

she said lightly, able to speak freely since the children had already scattered, leaving her alone with Andrew.

When she sprang it on me just now I was horrified.

The laughter died out of his blue eyes.

That

s a pretty unfriendly word to use,

he observed abruptly

You wouldn

t have been so dismayed, I suppose, had they invited Geoffrey Barbin along.

She flushed, her thoughts going at once to Hilda, and her sharp jealousy.

Indeed I should,

she declared ingenuously.

More so, in fact.

The glance he bent on her now was bewildered.

What a funny child you are!

he remarked.

I can

t make head or tail of you, sometimes.

Just for a second she was swept by a secret, irrational delight. If he could use that word

child

to her, surely she was not the hopelessly dull, foredoomed spinster she had felt herself to be of recent years at Hilliton; surely he found her—likeable.

The next instant, however, common sense made her shrug the compliment aside and, forced by her uncompromising honesty, she flashed back at him

Child! Do you realize that I

m twenty-eight today?

Oddly enough he showed no signs of discomfiture at this painful revelation.

Heavens
,
how ancient,

he mocked.

But I

m
even more of a Methuselah. I was seven when you made your bow to the world. Of course, by using a hair-restorer every morning
and lacing myself well into my clothes
—”

She broke into a gust of laughter at his nonsense, and he went on then, impetuously
.

Listen! I

m frightfully sorry I can

t stop and picnic with you and the kids. I

d have loved it. But I have to go and give a hand with a sick cow—a very Valuable Friesian. Can you make it all right with the children—and incidentally see they don

t spoil my trees? I don

t preserve any game round here, so there

s no need to worry on that account.


I

m sorry you can

t stay, too.

Somehow as she smiled up at him she felt more at ease with him than ever before.

You don

t know what you

re missing—lemonade and doughnuts
—”


On the contrary, I

ve a very clear idea of what I

m missing,

he interrupted quickly, and something in his voice and expression made it impossible any longer to meet his eyes.

However, if you

ll give a favorable reply to Cecily, when she rings you up sharp at six this evening, I shall be amply compensated.


What do you mean? What
i
s your sister going to say when she rings me up?

Curiosity got the better of her sudden attack of shyness, and she looked up at him again in bewilderment.

He shook his head.

Sorry. I was particularly told to keep out, when I suggested handing you the invitation myself.

Well, I won

t say goodbye, because I hope it

s
au
revoir
.”
And pausing only to explain to Ruth and one or two other children, who came running up just then, his reason for not being able to stay to the picnic, he gave them all a cheery wave and went on his way.

Although devoured with pleasurable curiosity
o
ver this highly mysterious communication, Catherine did her best to
put it out of her mind, and. concentrate on the

treat

provided for her by the children. They would be bitterly hurt, she knew, if they guessed that she was thinking more about the Playdles, and their forthcoming invitation, than about their own entertainment.

Naturally, however, they interpreted her added vivacity and spa
r
kle simply as a sign that she was thoroughly enjoying the party; they had not heard her conversation with Andrew, and had they done so would still not have realized what a thrill it had given her. All they knew and cared was that their treat was
pro
ving a tremendous success. Indeed she would have been a very strange person if she had failed to enjoy herself. No children, whatever their circumstances and upbringing, could have made more charming hostesses than these erstwhile waifs.

Tea, of course, was the first item, if only for the reason that until some of the baskets were emptied, it was useless to begin nutting. And when Catherine saw the lavishness of the

spread

she was once again—despite Matron

s words—filled with dismay that the children should have spent their small pocket-money so freely on her birthday treat. Every variety of bun which the Little Garsford baker could
produce was represented, and no less than three kinds of

mineral

—each more gaseous than the last!—made their appearance.

Her only difficulty was in doing full justice to this rather filling feast, but she did her valiant best; and since the children

s appetites were excellent there were no leftovers to be carried back.

Their hospitality did not stop here, however. When it came to gathering the nuts, with the help of a crooked stick which Andrew had thoughtfully—if not altogether altruistically—left for them, the best were promptly put aside for Catherine. And it was she who had to choose the games which they afterwards played in a nearby meadow.

She remembered, needless to say, to keep an eye on the time, and had them all home, as previously arranged with Matron—by six o

clock. Even so, however, she was just too late—to her sharp disappointment—to take Cecily

s call.

Hilda, coming out to meet her, said rather sourly that she had a telephone message for her from Miss Playdle.


I can

t hear anything in all
this
hubbub,

Catherine told her, as casually as she could, and indeed the chatter and laughter all around her was almost deafening.


All right; come into the pantry for a minute. It

s the only place that doesn

t seem to be overrun. But I can

t stop for more than a minute. I

m in the middle of getting my children to bed.

Hilda opened the door and .she and Catherine slipped inside, as they often did when anything private had to be discussed.


It can

t take a moment to give me a message,

Catherine said, slightly irritated by Hilda

s grudging tone.


She didn

t want to leave one, as a matter of fact—except to ask you to ring up as soon as you got in. But I told her that you were extremely busy at
this time of day, and that it would be much more sensible to let me pass on a message of some sort.


Well, what was it?

Catherine demanded, trying hard to conquer her impatience.


Oh, something about a dance,

Hilda returned tartly.

It seems that some boy friend of hers in the navy has suddenly got leave, and she wants to know if you will make
u
p a four, with him, herself and her brother, and go to some dance or other in Great Garsford tonight. She was originally going alone with Mr. Playdle, apparently.

Catherine

s heart began to thump.

And what did you say?

she inquired quickly.


Well, taking it for granted that you wouldn

t appreciate being made a convenience of in that way, I told her the truth—that you were on duty
this
evening,

was Hilda

s cold response, And then she went on, in a superior tone which Catherine found maddening:

Of course, you may be different from me. You may not mind being treated in that casual manner.


It

s no odds, anyway, what I feel about it!

Catherine found it impossible now to conceal the anger and disappointment which were sweeping over her.

You have refused the invitation for me—which y
o
u have a perfect right to do, considering that it

s your turn to have time off, not mine. And there

s nothing more to be said.

To her surprise, however, Hilda, instead of opening the pantry door and walking out, looked at her resentfully, and observed crossly:

I told Matron what I had done, of course, and she says you

re to
p
lease yourself. She is going to be in all evening
h
erself, so that there will be no need for either of us to stay in, after eight o

clock. It

s up to you to decide whether you wish to be treated as a stop-gap, or not.

Just for a moment the cloud of depression lifted from Catherine

s heart, giving way to a heady joy. She was free to accept this invitation—and what did she care whether it came at the last minute or not? Free to experience the delight of being held in Andrew

s arms, of dancing with him—half the evening, perhaps.

And then, as abruptly, her spirits dropped again. She said flatly to Hilda, her hand on the door-handle:

As I

ve no evening dress with me, there

s really nothing to discuss.


You

d better have a word with Matron, anyway,

was Hilda

s parting observation, and her expression was none too amiable.

She didn

t seem to like my declining the invitation on your account, without consulting her: took occasion to remind me, in fact, that the relationship between you and me is not that of Sister and probationer.

She gave an indignant sniff.

As though anyone could mistake a go-as-you-please place of this sort for a well-run hospital.

Resolved to waste no more time in arguing with Hilda, Catherine went straight to the bathroom, where Matron, who always gave a helping hand with the babies at this hour, was busy with soap and flannel.

She smiled at Catherine, through the steam, and observed cheerfully:

It looks as though you can have a second birthday treat, if you feel like it! A pity you missed speaking to Miss Playdle yourself; but if you ring up right away you

ll probably not be too late to fix things up.

Catherine shook her head, trying hard not to look dejected.


It

s no go,

she said.

Thank you for letting me off—but I

ve no dress.


That

s a pity. Can

t you go in an ordinary summer frock?

Matron lifted a couple of babies out of the bath, and wrapped them expertly in a big towel.

Anyway, I think you ought to ring Miss Playdle up yourself—and the sooner the better.

Hilda came in then, with a trio of lively toddlers, and Catherine escaped, and made her way to the telephone. She had no intention of going to the dance dressed differently from the other women, and reflected rather dismally that even if afternoon frocks were worn they would be of a smarter variety than her own modest wardrobe boasted. Checked washing silk would just not do—whatever Matron, with her sublime disregard of fashion, might think. Still, one bright thread of comfort ran through, the grey cloud of disappointment. Andrew, with his mysterious and smiling hints about Cecily

s forthcoming invitation, had seemed genuinely anxious that she should accept it; he definitely wanted her be there—wanted to dance with her.

Cecily answered the telephone herself, and seemed delighted that she had rung up.


Now, do say you

re able to come, after all,

she exclaimed.

It

s a very short notice, but our naval friend didn

t arrive until just after lunch, and I knew, from what Ruth had said this morning, that you would be out and not getable until six. Surely that nice Matron of yours will fix things so that you can come—considering it

s your birthday
.


It

s all right from that point of view,

Catherine admitted,

and I

d simply love to come. But as I never imagined, when I took this post, that I

d ever be asked to go dancing, I didn

t bring an evening frock.


Why, that won

t matter. I

ll lend you one.

Cecily

s response was so natural, so spontaneous, that Catherine

s heart warmed to her instantly.

We

re very much of a size,

she went on gaily,

and if you wouldn

t mind a borrowed frock, I

m sure
I
could fit you out. I had to borrow one myself the other day, when I was staying in London with
fri
ends. They suddenly announced they were going to some new dance-club, having warned me beforehand that they never went anywhere.


It

s perfectly sweet of you,

Catherine stammered.

But it—it isn

t only the question of a dress, you know.


What size do you take in shoes?

Cecily demanded.

If it is the same as mine, let

s clinch the thing, and arrange that you come.


I take fives,

Catherine faltered.

Cecily gave a warm,

bubbling laugh.

That settles it. So do I. Now, what time can you get across? The dance begins at nine, but we needn

t be punctual. You must have a meal with us first, of course.


That

s hopeless, I

m afraid. I

m on duty until eight o

clock, and it will take a little time to dress—I—I mean, if you are serious about lending me a frock!

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