the village, and really there seems to be no reason at all why he should come and sleep here. As I said to Moira at the time, ‘Even if something has gone wrong with his car, I suppose a healthy young man can walk a mile without finding it a hardship!’ Not that it is a mile to the Gables, because it is well this side of the turning to Crowbury and we always count the mile from there, so I must say I didn’t think he need stay the night, and I said so. But Moira insisted, even after I told her that the sheets wouldn’t be aired, or the mattress, or the blankets, because I should have to put him into the north room which we don’t use unless we are obliged to.”
“He is a friend of Mrs. Herne’s?”
“They go out dancing together,” said Miss Bray in a disapproving tone.
“He lives with this aunt?”
“Oh, no, he just comes and goes. He did very well in the war—at least Moira says he did. And he has a very good job in town, only I don’t quite know what it is. I think Moira told me it had something to do with the antique business. I’m sure I don’t know why such a lot of people go in for that nowadays—people who are quite well connected and high up in society. If it was nice new furniture or glass or china, they wouldn’t touch it, but just because the things are old they think it’s quite a smart thing to do. Why, there’s Lady Hermione Scunthorpe—and she’s a Duke’s daughter—and several others I could mention, but it all seems very puzzling to me! This Mr. Masterson goes round looking for old things, and Moira says he is very good at it, so of course it wasn’t at all convenient for him to have his car laid up.”
Miss Silver had been getting on very well with her shawl. It quite filled her lap.
“You spoke of your brother being here. How very pleasant for you.”
This did not appear to evoke any particular response. Miss Bray took one of her clumsy stitches and said,
“It was only for the week-end—he just stayed till the Monday evening. It would have been better if the house hadn’t been so full.”
“Your brother does not care for society?”
Miss Bray was regretting that she had mentioned Arnold. She flushed, the colour deepening towards her nose. Aware of this, she produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and chafed the afflicted feature with unfortunate results. Miss Silver thought it best to change the subject.
Chapter 13
IT was some time after tea that Lucius Bellingdon found himself showing Miss Silver his collection of pictures. He was a little uncertain as to just how this had come about. It had not really been his intention to show the pictures at all, at any rate not at this moment, and not to Miss Silver. Yet as the party at tea broke up he was aware of Miss Silver putting away her knitting in a flowered chintz bag with green plastic handles and looking up at him in a brightly intelligent manner.
“So kind of you, and I shall be most interested to see them,” she was saying. And then, “I have some pictures that I am very fond of myself. Only reproductions of course, but in some cases I have been privileged to see the originals.”
After which there was no doubt that he had in some way committed himself. They went up the stairs and through to the wing which he had restored in order to house his collection. There had been extensive damage by fire at the turn of the century, and the then owner had not been able to meet the expense of re-building.
“He’d let the insurance lapse. Silly thing to do, but I don’t suppose he could find the money. Pity when an old family goes down hill like that, but no sense in hanging on to a place when you can’t afford to keep it up. Takes the heart out of you trying to do something that can’t be done.”
Miss Silver said, “Yes indeed.”
She listened with interest and respect to a disquisition on Dutch painting culminating in the proud display of a very small picture of a girl standing by an open window and putting
“He is a friend of Mrs. Herne’s?”
“They go out dancing together,” said Miss Bray in a disapproving tone.
“He lives with this aunt?”
“Oh, no, he just comes and goes. He did very well in the war—at least Moira says he did. And he has a very good job in town, only I don’t quite know what it is. I think Moira told me it had something to do with the antique business. I’m sure I don’t know why such a lot of people go in for that nowadays—people who are quite well connected and high up in society. If it was nice new furniture or glass or china, they wouldn’t touch it, but just because the things are old they think it’s quite a smart thing to do. Why, there’s Lady Hermione Scunthorpe—and she’s a Duke’s daughter—and several others I could mention, but it all seems very puzzling to me! This Mr. Masterson goes round looking for old things, and Moira says he is very good at it, so of course it wasn’t at all convenient for him to have his car laid up.”
Miss Silver had been getting on very well with her shawl. It quite filled her lap.
“You spoke of your brother being here. How very pleasant for you.”
This did not appear to evoke any particular response. Miss Bray took one of her clumsy stitches and said,
“It was only for the week-end—he just stayed till the Monday evening. It would have been better if the house hadn’t been so full.”
“Your brother does not care for society?”
Miss Bray was regretting that she had mentioned Arnold. She flushed, the colour deepening towards her nose. Aware of this, she produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and chafed the afflicted feature with unfortunate results. Miss Silver thought it best to change the subject.
Chapter 13
IT was some time after tea that Lucius Bellingdon found himself showing Miss Silver his collection of pictures. He was a little uncertain as to just how this had come about. It had not really been his intention to show the pictures at all, at any rate not at this moment, and not to Miss Silver. Yet as the party at tea broke up he was aware of Miss Silver putting away her knitting in a flowered chintz bag with green plastic handles and looking up at him in a brightly intelligent manner.
“So kind of you, and I shall be most interested to see them,” she was saying. And then, “I have some pictures that I am very fond of myself. Only reproductions of course, but in some cases I have been privileged to see the originals.”
After which there was no doubt that he had in some way committed himself. They went up the stairs and through to the wing which he had restored in order to house his collection. There had been extensive damage by fire at the turn of the century, and the then owner had not been able to meet the expense of re-building.
“He’d let the insurance lapse. Silly thing to do, but I don’t suppose he could find the money. Pity when an old family goes down hill like that, but no sense in hanging on to a place when you can’t afford to keep it up. Takes the heart out of you trying to do something that can’t be done.”
Miss Silver said, “Yes indeed.”
She listened with interest and respect to a disquisition on Dutch painting culminating in the proud display of a very small picture of a girl standing by an open window and putting
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