of the house dismissing the gardener, but she continued to smile.
"I wouldn't let you," said Eustace, and went to get back into the car.
"Goodbye, Virginia."
"Oh. Goodbye," said Virginia faintly. "And thank you for bringing me home." "I'll ring you up some time." "Yes, do that."
He gave a final salute with his head, then started the engine, put the Land-Rover into gear, and without a backward glance, shot away, down the drive and out of sight, leaving Virginia and her mother standing, staring after him, in a cloud of dust.
"Well!" said Mrs. Parsons, laughing, but obviously nettled.
Virginia said nothing. There did not seem to be anything to say.
"What a very basic young man! I must say, staying down here, one does meet all types. What's he going to ring you up about?"
The tone of her voice implied that Eustace Philips was something of a joke, a joke that she and Virginia shared.
"He thought perhaps I might go out to Lanyon and have tea with his mother."
"Isn't that marvellous? Pure Cold Comfort Farm." It began, very lightly, to rain. Mrs. Parsons glanced at the lowering sky and shivered. "What are we doing, standing out here in the wind? Come along, tea's waiting ..."
Virginia thought nothing of the shiver, but the next morning her mother complained of feeling unwell, she had a cold, she said, an upset stomach, she would stay indoors. As the weather was horrible nobody questioned this, and Alice laid and lit a cheerful fire in the drawing-room, and by this Mrs. Parsons reclined on the sofa, a light mohair rug over her knees.
"I shall be perfectly all right," she told Virginia, "and you and Alice must just go off and not bother about me at all."
"What do you mean, we must just go off? Where is there to go off to?"
"To Falmouth. To lunch at Pendrane." Virginia stared blankly. "Oh, darling, don't look so gormless, Mrs. Menheniot asked us ages ago. She wanted to show us the garden."
"Nobody ever told me," said Virginia, who did not want to go. It would take all day to get to Falmouth and back again and have lunch and see the boring garden. She wanted to stay here and sit by the telephone and wait for Eustace to ring.
"Well, I'm telling you now. You'll have to change. You can't go out for lunch dressed in jeans. Why not wear that pretty blue shirt I bought for you? Or the tartan kilt? I'm sure Mrs. Menheniot would be amused by your kilt."
If she had been any other sort of a mother Virginia would have asked her to listen for the telephone, to take a message. But her mother did not like Eustace. She thought him ill-mannered and uncouth, and her smiling reference to Cold Comfort Farm had put the official stamp of disapproval upon him. Since his departure his name had not been mentioned, and although, during dinner last night, Virginia had tried more than once to tell Alice and Tom about her chance encounter, her mother had always firmly overridden the conversation, interrupting if necessary, and steering it into more suitable channels. While she changed, Virginia debated what to do.
Eventually, dressed in the kilt and a canary yellow sweater, with her dark hair brushed clean and shining, she went along to the kitchen to find Mrs. Jilkes. Mrs. Jilkes was a new friend. One wet afternoon she had taught Virginia to make scones, at the same time regaling her with a great deal of gratuitous information concerning the health and longevity of Mrs. Jilkes's numerous relations.
" 'Allo, Virginia."
She was rolling pastry. Virginia took a scrap and began, absently, to eat it.
"Now, don't go eating that! You'll fill yourself up, won't have no room for your lunch."
"I wish I didn't have to go. Mrs. Jilkes, if a phone call comes through for me, would you take a message?"
Mrs. Jilkes looked coy, rolling her eyes. "Expecting a phone call are you? Some young man, is it?"
Virginia blushed. "Well, all right, yes. But you will listen, won't you?"
"Don't you worry, my love. Now, there's Mrs. Lingard calling . . . time you was off.
"I wouldn't let you," said Eustace, and went to get back into the car.
"Goodbye, Virginia."
"Oh. Goodbye," said Virginia faintly. "And thank you for bringing me home." "I'll ring you up some time." "Yes, do that."
He gave a final salute with his head, then started the engine, put the Land-Rover into gear, and without a backward glance, shot away, down the drive and out of sight, leaving Virginia and her mother standing, staring after him, in a cloud of dust.
"Well!" said Mrs. Parsons, laughing, but obviously nettled.
Virginia said nothing. There did not seem to be anything to say.
"What a very basic young man! I must say, staying down here, one does meet all types. What's he going to ring you up about?"
The tone of her voice implied that Eustace Philips was something of a joke, a joke that she and Virginia shared.
"He thought perhaps I might go out to Lanyon and have tea with his mother."
"Isn't that marvellous? Pure Cold Comfort Farm." It began, very lightly, to rain. Mrs. Parsons glanced at the lowering sky and shivered. "What are we doing, standing out here in the wind? Come along, tea's waiting ..."
Virginia thought nothing of the shiver, but the next morning her mother complained of feeling unwell, she had a cold, she said, an upset stomach, she would stay indoors. As the weather was horrible nobody questioned this, and Alice laid and lit a cheerful fire in the drawing-room, and by this Mrs. Parsons reclined on the sofa, a light mohair rug over her knees.
"I shall be perfectly all right," she told Virginia, "and you and Alice must just go off and not bother about me at all."
"What do you mean, we must just go off? Where is there to go off to?"
"To Falmouth. To lunch at Pendrane." Virginia stared blankly. "Oh, darling, don't look so gormless, Mrs. Menheniot asked us ages ago. She wanted to show us the garden."
"Nobody ever told me," said Virginia, who did not want to go. It would take all day to get to Falmouth and back again and have lunch and see the boring garden. She wanted to stay here and sit by the telephone and wait for Eustace to ring.
"Well, I'm telling you now. You'll have to change. You can't go out for lunch dressed in jeans. Why not wear that pretty blue shirt I bought for you? Or the tartan kilt? I'm sure Mrs. Menheniot would be amused by your kilt."
If she had been any other sort of a mother Virginia would have asked her to listen for the telephone, to take a message. But her mother did not like Eustace. She thought him ill-mannered and uncouth, and her smiling reference to Cold Comfort Farm had put the official stamp of disapproval upon him. Since his departure his name had not been mentioned, and although, during dinner last night, Virginia had tried more than once to tell Alice and Tom about her chance encounter, her mother had always firmly overridden the conversation, interrupting if necessary, and steering it into more suitable channels. While she changed, Virginia debated what to do.
Eventually, dressed in the kilt and a canary yellow sweater, with her dark hair brushed clean and shining, she went along to the kitchen to find Mrs. Jilkes. Mrs. Jilkes was a new friend. One wet afternoon she had taught Virginia to make scones, at the same time regaling her with a great deal of gratuitous information concerning the health and longevity of Mrs. Jilkes's numerous relations.
" 'Allo, Virginia."
She was rolling pastry. Virginia took a scrap and began, absently, to eat it.
"Now, don't go eating that! You'll fill yourself up, won't have no room for your lunch."
"I wish I didn't have to go. Mrs. Jilkes, if a phone call comes through for me, would you take a message?"
Mrs. Jilkes looked coy, rolling her eyes. "Expecting a phone call are you? Some young man, is it?"
Virginia blushed. "Well, all right, yes. But you will listen, won't you?"
"Don't you worry, my love. Now, there's Mrs. Lingard calling . . . time you was off.
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