Antony Gray-Gardener Part 20

"All right," and his voice was constrained. "I'll not be keeping you any longer, sor."

Doctor Hilary went with him to the door.

"I'm sorry about this business," he said.

"Are you?" said Antony indifferently.

Doctor Hilary went back to his surgery.

"He didn't believe me," he said to himself, "small wonder."

He pulled out his note-book and made a note in it. Then he shut the book and put it in his pocket.

"Anyhow," he said, "it's the kind of thing we wanted."

The memorandum he had entered, ran:--

"Write Sinclair _re_ Grantley."

CHAPTER XIX

TRIX ON THE SCENE

"Tibby, angel, what's the matter with Pia?"

Trix Devereux was sitting on the little rustic table beneath the lime trees, smoking a cigarette. Miss Tibb.u.t.t was sitting on the rustic seat, knitting some fine lace. The ball of knitting cotton was in a black satin bag on her lap.

Trix had arrived at Woodleigh the previous day, two days earlier than she had been expected. A telegram had preceded her appearance. It was a lengthy telegram, an explicit telegram. It set forth various facts in a manner entirely characteristic of Trix. Firstly, it announced her almost immediate arrival; secondly, it remarked on the extraordinary heat in London; and thirdly it stated quite clearly her own overwhelming and instant desire for the nice, fresh, cool, clean, country.

"Trix is coming to-day," the d.u.c.h.essa had said as she read it.

"How delightful!" Miss Tibb.u.t.t had replied instantly. And then, after a moment's pause, "There will be plenty of food because Father Dormer is dining here to-night."

The d.u.c.h.essa had laughed. It was so entirely like Tibby to think of food the first thing.

"I know," she had replied. And then reflectively, "I think it might be desirable to telephone to Doctor Hilary and ask him to come too. It really is not fair to ask Father Dormer to meet three solitary females."

A second time Miss Tibb.u.t.t had momentarily and mentally surveyed the contents of the larder, and almost immediately had nodded her entire approval of the idea. She most thoroughly enjoyed the mild excitement of a little dinner party.

"Tibby, angel, what's the matter with Pia?"

The question fell rather like a bomb, though quite a small bomb, into the suns.h.i.+ne.

"Matter with Pia," echoed Miss Tibb.u.t.t. "What do you think, my dear?"

"That," said Trix wisely, "is precisely what I am asking you?"

Miss Tibb.u.t.t laid down her knitting.

"But do you think anything _is_ the matter?" she questioned anxiously.

"I don't think, I know," remarked Trix succinctly.

Miss Tibb.u.t.t took off her spectacles.

"But she is so bright," she said.

Trix nodded emphatically.

"That's just it. She's too bright. Oh, one can overdo the merry light-hearted role, I a.s.sure you. And then, to a new-comer at all events, the cloak becomes apparent. But haven't you the smallest idea?"

Miss Tibb.u.t.t shook her head.

"Not the least," she announced. "I fancied one evening shortly after she returned here, that something was a little wrong. I remember I asked her.

She talked about soap-bubbles and cobwebs but said there weren't any left."

"Of which," smiled Trix. "Soap-bubbles or cobwebs?"

"Oh, cobwebs," said Miss Tibb.u.t.t earnestly. "Or was it both? She said,--yes, I remember now just what she did say--she said that a pretty bubble had burst and become a cobweb. And when I asked her if the cobweb were bothering her, she said both it and the bubble had vanished. So, you see!" This last on a note of triumph.

"Hmm," said Trix ruminative, dubious. "Bubbles have a way of taking up more s.p.a.ce than one would imagine, and their bursting sometimes leaves an unpleasant gap. The bursting of this one has left a gap in Pia's life.

You haven't, by any chance, the remotest notion of its colour?"

"Its colour?" queried Miss Tibb.u.t.t.

Trix laughed. "Nonsense, Tibby, angel, nonsense pure and simple. But all the same, I wish I knew for dead certain."

"So do I," said Miss Tibb.u.t.t anxiously, though she hadn't the smallest notion what advantage a knowledge of the colour would be to either one of them.

Trix dabbed the stump of her cigarette on the table.

"Well, don't let her know we think there's anything wrong. If you want to remain wrapped up in the light-hearted cloak, nothing is more annoying than having any one prying to see what's underneath,--unless it's the right person, of course. And we're not sure that we are--yet. We must just wait till she feels like giving us a peep, if she ever does."

A silence fell. Miss Tibb.u.t.t took up her knitting again. Trix hummed a little air from a popular opera. Presently Miss Tibb.u.t.t sighed. Trix left off humming.

"What's the matter, Tibby?"

Miss Tibb.u.t.t sighed more deeply. "I'm afraid it's my fault," she said.

"What's your fault?" demanded Trix.

"I've not noticed Pia. I thought everything was all right after what she said. I ought to have noticed. I've been too wrapped up in my own affairs. Perhaps if I'd been more sympathetic I should have found out what was the matter."

Trix laughed, a happy amused, comfortable little laugh.