‘You just made the mistake,’ said Walter soothingly, ‘of confusing old world with olde worlde. You should have been more careful to find out whether or not there was an “e”; so much hangs on that one little letter. In any case, I must submit, with all deference, that the very name of the house, Mulberrie Farm, ought to have aroused your worst suspicions. I never heard anything so art and craft in my life, and I bet the yokels have no idea it’s called that, they probably knew it as The Grange before all these inglenooks and things were put in. You must be crackie-boo, poor sweet, to go and take a house you’ve never even seen.’
‘Don’t tease her,’ said Sally. ‘I think it’s divinely funny; just like those Paris restaurants made for Americans that we saw on our honeymoon.’
‘I think it’s very beautiful, Amabelle. I didn’t know so much crooked wood existed in the world. I wonder if it was the architect’s wife who bored all those worm-holes in her spare time instead of knitting jumpers. Oh, I say, too, look at the way the doors open. You just pull that little string and walk in – I do call that a dainty thought. And I adore that ironwork that looks like cardboard meant to look like ironwork; a very original touch that is. Now, I think, if you don’t mind me saying so, that you ought to send up to Soloman’s for some rushes to strew about the floor; then, when you’ve hung a couple of Fortmason hams on to those hooks in the ceiling and dressed all your servants in leathern jerkins, you’ll have arrived at the true atmosphere of Ye. If I think of any other homey touches I’ll let you know. It’s no trouble at all to me.’
‘Shut up, Walter, you fool,’ said Sally. ‘Anyhow, I’m sure it’s a very comfortable little house.’
‘That’s what everybody says,’ wailed Amabelle. ‘Personally, I could never feel comfortable in a hideous place like this. However, now we’re here I suppose we must make the best of it. Sit down, angels, and you shall have some cocktails in a minute.’
Presently Walter said: ‘And how d’you think you’ll enjoy life in the country, Amabelle?’
‘Well, it will be better now you’ve come, but I can’t describe to you what I’ve suffered so far. Frankly, I doubt whether I shall be impelled to settle down here for good, which was rather my idea in taking this house, although I suppose I shall have to stay on till the end of the lease because of Jerome saying, “I told you so.” The old boy was dead right, just the same.’
‘Why, what’s happened? You’ve been bored, I suppose?’
‘I’ve nearly gone mad, that’s all. Everything seems to be so queer and awful. To begin with, the lonely wolds I was so excited about are no more wolds than my hat. Ordinary fields full of mud, that’s what they are. And as for their being lonely I never heard such bosh; they are covered with cows and awful staring men in filthy clothes and huge motor things which drive slowly up and down them. And in any case I think it’s dangerous to go out alone here. Only yesterday I came across the bodies of two dear little rabbits which must have been killed by some lynch-maniac. It’s terrifying to think there are such men wandering about. I brought the poor mites home and gave them decent burial in the garden.’
‘The lynch-maniac must have been delighted when he came back for his dinner,’ said Sally. She had spent her childhood in the country. Walter remarked that the amount of sadism among the lower classes was truly terrible.
‘Now, listen, Sally,’ went on Amabelle. ‘You’ve lived in the country – I want you to tell me what people do all day. I simply can’t find anything to occupy myself with. Your mother, for instance, what does she do?’
‘Let me think now. She always seems to be extremely busy. For one thing she grows a lot of bulbs in the winter, in a dark place.’
‘Don’t forget to add that they always get immensely tall and thin and finally bend over like croquet hoops,’ said Walter spitefully. He was not devoted to his mother-in-law.
‘Be quiet. They are very pretty.’
‘But that can’t take up much time,’ said Amabelle. ‘What I want to know is how do people fill all those hours every day; there seem to be twice as many here as there are in London.’
‘Mother, of course, takes a lot of exercise, walks and so on. And every morning she puts on a pair of black silk drawers and a sweater and makes indelicate gestures on the lawn. That’s called Building the Body Beautiful. She’s mad about it.’
‘And is it really beautiful – her body, I mean?’ Amabelle asked with some show of interest.
‘It’s all right, I think. I never really look at it much. Then, of course, she does some gardening.’
‘I thought of that myself, but when I got into the garden I couldn’t see anything to do. There were no flowers at all, either, only some dying chrysanthemums.’
‘I think flowers are so vulgar,’ said Walter. ‘It sounds a nice garden to me.’
‘And she orders the food every morning.’
‘Oh, I could never do that, the cook would give notice at once.’
‘And she’s district commissioner for the Girl Guides.’
‘I can’t quite see myself in khaki shorts,’ said Amabelle. ‘I think I must be resigned to playing the gramophone and gossiping. When Jerome and Bobby arrive there’ll be some bridge for you, Walter. By the way, Major Stanworth is dining here tonight.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘A sweet man, one of my neighbours. I met him in a field yesterday opening up a dead ewe to see what she died of. It was
