“Ellen does a steak with grilled tomatoes pretty fairly,” said Miss Viner. “She doesn’t do it well, but she does it better than anything else. It is no good having a tart because she is heavy-handed with pastry; but her little castle puddings are not bad, and I dare say you could find a nice piece of Stilton at Abbot’s. I have always heard that gentlemen like a nice piece of Stilton, and there is a good deal of father’s wine left, a bottle of sparkling Moselle, perhaps.”
“Oh no, Miss Viner; that is really not necessary.”
“Nonsense, my child. No gentleman is happy unless he drinks something with his meal. There is some good prewar whisky if you think he would prefer that. Now do as I say and don’t argue. The key of the wine-cellar is in the third drawer down in the dressing-table, in the second pair of stockings on the left-hand side.”
Katherine went obediently to the spot indicated.
“The second pair, now mind,” said Miss Viner. “The first pair has my diamond earrings and my filigree brooch in it.”
“Oh,” said Katherine, rather taken aback, “wouldn’t you like them put in your jewel-case?”
Miss Viner gave vent to a terrific and prolonged snort.
“No, indeed! I have much too much sense for that sort of thing, thank you. Dear, dear, I well remember how my poor father had a safe built in downstairs. Pleased as Punch he was with it, and he said to my mother, ‘Now, Mary, you bring me your jewels in their case every night and I will lock them away for you.’ My mother was a very tactful woman, and she knew that gentlemen like having their own way, and she brought him the jewel-case locked up just as he said.
“And one night burglars broke in, and of course—naturally—the first thing they went for was the safe! It would be, with my father talking up and down the village and bragging about it until you might have thought he kept all King Solomon’s diamonds there. They made a clean sweep, got the tankards, the silver cups, and the presentation gold plate that my father had had presented to him, and the jewel-case.”
She sighed reminiscently. “My father was in a great state over my mother’s jewels. There was the Venetian set and some very fine cameos, and some pale pink corals, and two diamond rings with quite large stones in them. And then, of course, she had to tell him that, being a sensible woman, she had kept her jewellery rolled up in a pair of corsets, and there it was still as safe as anything.”
“And the jewel-case had been quite empty?”
“Oh no, dear,” said Miss Viner, “it would have been too light a weight then. My mother was a very intelligent woman; she saw to that. She kept her buttons in the jewel-case, and a very handy place it was. Boot buttons in the top tray, trouser buttons in the second tray, and assorted buttons below. Curiously enough, my father was quite annoyed with her. He said he didn’t like deceit. But I mustn’t go chattering on; you want to go and ring up your friend, and mind you choose a nice piece of steak, and tell Ellen she is not to have holes in her stockings when she waits at lunch.”
“Is her name Ellen or Helen, Miss Viner? I thought—”
Miss Viner closed her eyes.
“I can sound my h’s, dear, as well as anyone, but Helen is not a suitable name for a servant. I don’t know what the mothers in the lower classes are coming to nowadays.”
The rain had cleared away when Knighton arrived at the cottage. The pale fitful sunshine shone down on it and burnished Katherine’s head as she stood in the doorway to welcome him. He came up to her quickly, almost boyishly.
“I say, I hope you don’t mind. I simply had to see you again soon. I hope the friend you are staying with does not mind.”
“Come in and make friends with her,” said Katherine. “She can be most alarming, but you will soon find that she has the softest heart in the world.”
Miss Viner was enthroned majestically in the drawing-room, wearing a complete set of the cameos which had been so providentially preserved in the family. She greeted Knighton with dignity and an austere politeness which would have damped many men. Knighton, however, had a charm of manner which was not easily set aside, and after about ten minutes Miss Viner thawed perceptibly. Luncheon was a merry meal, and Ellen, or Helen, in a new pair of silk stockings devoid of ladders, performed prodigies of waiting. Afterwards, Katherine and Knighton went for a walk, and they came back to have tea tête-à-tête, since Miss Viner had gone to lie down.
When the car had finally driven off Katherine went slowly upstairs. A voice called her and she went in to Miss Viner’s bedroom.
“Friend gone?”
“Yes. Thank you so much for letting me ask him down.”
“No need to thank me. Do you think I am the sort of old curmudgeon who never will do anything for anybody?”
“I think you are a dear,” said Katherine affectionately.
“Humph,” said Miss Viner, mollified.
As Katherine was leaving the room she called her back.
“Katherine?”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong about that young man of yours. A man when he is making up to anybody can be cordial and gallant and full of little attentions and altogether charming. But when a man is really in love he can’t help looking like a sheep. Now, whenever that young man looked at you he looked like a sheep. I take back all I said this morning. It is genuine.”
XXXI
Mr. Aarons Lunches
“Ah!” said Mr. Joseph Aarons appreciatively.
He took a long draught from his tankard, set it down with a sigh, wiped the froth from his lips, and beamed
