bloody fear! Leave him alone: he’ll quieten down if you don’t fret him. You never had an ounce of tact, that’s your trouble.’
Raymond got into his car, and started the engine.
‘He’s having Clay home,’ he said grimly.
‘Hell!’ ejaculated Ingram.
‘And Aubrey,’ added Raymond, thrusting out his clutch.
‘Hell and blast!’ said Ingram, at the top of his voice.
‘Laugh that one off!’ recommended Raymond sardonically, and bucketed away down the lane.
It did not take him long to reach Bodmin, and his business there was soon transacted. It was when he was coming out of the bank that he encountered his Aunt Delia, fluttering scarves, veils, and ribbons, and carrying a laden shopping-basket in one hand, and a capacious leather bag in the other.
Those who had known Delia Ottery since her childhood said that she had been a very pretty girl, although cast a little into the shade by her sister Rachel. Her nephews, not having known her as a girl, were obliged to take this opinion on trust. They could none of them remember her as anything but an untidy, faded old maid, whose lustreless hair was prematurely grey, and always falling down in unsightly tails and wisps. Girlish slimness had early changed to middle-aged scragginess, and as she had never outgrown a youthful predilection for bright colours, frills, and fluffiness, this was considerably accentuated by the clothes she wore. When she accosted her nephew, becoming quite pink in the face from pleasure at seeing him, she was wearing a straw picture-hat on the back of her head, its brim weighed down by a large, salmon-coloured rose. A veil floated from this structure, getting entangled, in the breeze which was blowing down the street, with the ends of a fringed scarf which she wore loosely knotted round her neck. A frock of a peculiarly aggressive shade of blue was imperfectly concealed by a long brown coat; and since the month was May, and the weather not as summery as the picture-hat would have seemed to imply, she wore in addition a feather-boa of a style fashionable in the opening years of the century. She was of a very nervous and retiring disposition, and appeared to be almost as much frightened as pleased at walking into her nephew.
She gasped: ‘Oh, Raymond! Well, this is a surprise!’ and dropped her handbag.
Raymond, whose innate neatness was invariably offended by his aunt’s untidy appearance, betrayed no pleasure at the meeting. He responded briefly: ‘Hallo, Aunt Delia!’ and bent to pick up the handbag.
She stood there, blinking at him with her myopic grey eyes, and smiling a little foolishly. ‘Well, this is a surprise!’ she repeated.
As Raymond drove into Bodmin never less frequently than twice a week, and Miss Ottery did her marketing there every morning, there seemed to be very little reason for her to feel any surprise. However, the Penhallows had long since decided that their aunt was a trifle soft in the head, so Raymond merely said: ‘I came in on business. You and Uncle Phineas both well?’
‘Oh, yes, indeed, very well, thank you! And are you quite well, dear?’
He replied with a slight smile: ‘Thanks, I’m always well.’
‘That’s right!’ she said. ‘And dear little Faith? It seems such ages since I saw her. I don’t know how it is, but one never has time to turn round these days!’
‘She’s much the same as usual,’ he answered.
They stood looking at one another, Miss Ottery tremulously smiling, Raymond wondering how to get away from her.
‘It’s so nice to see you, dear, and looking so well, too!’ produced Delia, after a slight pause. ‘I was only saying to Phineas the other day — actually, it was Tuesday, because I saw Myra in the town, which made me think, not but what I know you young people have your own affairs to attend to, especially you, Raymond dear, I’m sure — well, I was saying to Phineas that we haven’t seen anything of you for ages. And now here you are!’
‘Yes,’
Raymond got into his car, and started the engine.
‘He’s having Clay home,’ he said grimly.
‘Hell!’ ejaculated Ingram.
‘And Aubrey,’ added Raymond, thrusting out his clutch.
‘Hell and blast!’ said Ingram, at the top of his voice.
‘Laugh that one off!’ recommended Raymond sardonically, and bucketed away down the lane.
It did not take him long to reach Bodmin, and his business there was soon transacted. It was when he was coming out of the bank that he encountered his Aunt Delia, fluttering scarves, veils, and ribbons, and carrying a laden shopping-basket in one hand, and a capacious leather bag in the other.
Those who had known Delia Ottery since her childhood said that she had been a very pretty girl, although cast a little into the shade by her sister Rachel. Her nephews, not having known her as a girl, were obliged to take this opinion on trust. They could none of them remember her as anything but an untidy, faded old maid, whose lustreless hair was prematurely grey, and always falling down in unsightly tails and wisps. Girlish slimness had early changed to middle-aged scragginess, and as she had never outgrown a youthful predilection for bright colours, frills, and fluffiness, this was considerably accentuated by the clothes she wore. When she accosted her nephew, becoming quite pink in the face from pleasure at seeing him, she was wearing a straw picture-hat on the back of her head, its brim weighed down by a large, salmon-coloured rose. A veil floated from this structure, getting entangled, in the breeze which was blowing down the street, with the ends of a fringed scarf which she wore loosely knotted round her neck. A frock of a peculiarly aggressive shade of blue was imperfectly concealed by a long brown coat; and since the month was May, and the weather not as summery as the picture-hat would have seemed to imply, she wore in addition a feather-boa of a style fashionable in the opening years of the century. She was of a very nervous and retiring disposition, and appeared to be almost as much frightened as pleased at walking into her nephew.
She gasped: ‘Oh, Raymond! Well, this is a surprise!’ and dropped her handbag.
Raymond, whose innate neatness was invariably offended by his aunt’s untidy appearance, betrayed no pleasure at the meeting. He responded briefly: ‘Hallo, Aunt Delia!’ and bent to pick up the handbag.
She stood there, blinking at him with her myopic grey eyes, and smiling a little foolishly. ‘Well, this is a surprise!’ she repeated.
As Raymond drove into Bodmin never less frequently than twice a week, and Miss Ottery did her marketing there every morning, there seemed to be very little reason for her to feel any surprise. However, the Penhallows had long since decided that their aunt was a trifle soft in the head, so Raymond merely said: ‘I came in on business. You and Uncle Phineas both well?’
‘Oh, yes, indeed, very well, thank you! And are you quite well, dear?’
He replied with a slight smile: ‘Thanks, I’m always well.’
‘That’s right!’ she said. ‘And dear little Faith? It seems such ages since I saw her. I don’t know how it is, but one never has time to turn round these days!’
‘She’s much the same as usual,’ he answered.
They stood looking at one another, Miss Ottery tremulously smiling, Raymond wondering how to get away from her.
‘It’s so nice to see you, dear, and looking so well, too!’ produced Delia, after a slight pause. ‘I was only saying to Phineas the other day — actually, it was Tuesday, because I saw Myra in the town, which made me think, not but what I know you young people have your own affairs to attend to, especially you, Raymond dear, I’m sure — well, I was saying to Phineas that we haven’t seen anything of you for ages. And now here you are!’
‘Yes,’
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