FullReads

“Aunt Liza, I don’t traipse!” Momentary indignation shone in the beautiful eyes and passed like a gleam of light. “Dear Aunt Liza,” laughed Columbine, “aren’t you funny?”

“Not a bit,” maintained Mrs. Peck. “I’m just common-sensical, my dear. And it ain’t right–it never were right in my young day–to go walking out alone with a man after bedtime.”

“A man, Aunt Liza! Oh, but a man! An artist isn’t a man–at least, not an ordinary man.” There was a hint of earnestness in Columbine’s tone, notwithstanding its lightness.

But Mrs. Peck remained firm. “It wouldn’t make it right, not if he was an angel from heaven,” she declared.

Columbine’s gay laugh had in it that quality of youth that surmounts all obstacles. “He’s much safer than an angel,” she protested, “because he can’t fly. Besides, the Spear Point Caves are all on this side of the Point. You could watch us all the time if you’d a mind to.”

But Mrs. Peck did not laugh. “I’d rather you didn’t go, my dear,” she said. “So let that be the end of it, there’s a good girl!”

“Oh, but I–” began Columbine, and broke off short. “Goodness, how you made me jump!” she said instead.

Rufus, his burly form completely blocking the doorway, was standing half in and half out of the garden, looking at her.

“Lawks!” said Mrs. Peck. “So you did me! Good evening, Rufus! Are you wanting Adam?”

“Not specially,” said Rufus. He entered, with massive, lounging movements. “I suppose I can come in,” he remarked.

“What a question!” ejaculated Mrs. Peck.

Columbine said nothing. She picked up her empty watering-can and swung it carelessly on one finger, hunting for invisible weeds in the geranium-pots the while.

Mrs. Peck was momentarily at a loss. She was not accustomed to entertaining Rufus in his father’s absence.

“Have a glass of mulberry wine!” she suggested.

“Columbine, run and fetch it, dear! It’s in the right-hand corner, third shelf, of the cupboard under the stairs. I’m sure you’re very welcome,” she added to Rufus, “but you must excuse me, for I’ve got to see to Mr. Knight’s dinner.”

“That’s all right, Mother,” said Rufus.

He always called her mother; it was a term of deference with him rather than affection. But Mrs. Peck liked him for it.

“Sit you down!” she said hospitably. “And mind you make yourself quite at home! Columbine will look after you. You’ll be staying to supper, I hope?”

“Thanks!” said Rufus. “I don’t know. Where’s Adam?”

“He’s chopping a bit of wood in the yard. He don’t want any help. You’ll see him presently. You stop and have a chat with Columbine!” said Mrs. Peck; and with a smile and nod she bustled stoutly away.

When Columbine returned with the mulberry wine and a glass on a tray the conservatory was empty. She set down her tray and paused.

There was a faintly mutinous curve about her soft lips, a gleam of dancing mischief in her eyes.

In a moment a step sounded on the path outside, and Rufus reappeared. He had been out to fill her watering-can, and he deposited it full at her feet.

“Don’t put it there!” she said, with a touch of sharpness. “I don’t want to tumble over it, do I? Thank you for filling it, but you needn’t have troubled. I’ve done.”

“Then it’ll come in for tomorrow,” said Rufus, setting the can deliberately in a corner.

Columbine turned to pour out a glass of Mrs. Peck’s mulberry wine.

“Only one glass?” said Rufus.

She threw him a quizzing smile over her shoulder. “Well, you don’t want two, do you?”

“No,” said Rufus slowly. “But I don’t drink–alone.”

She gave a low, gurgling laugh. “You’ll be saying you don’t smoke alone next. If you want someone to keep you company, I’d better fetch Adam.”

She turned round to him with the words, offering the glass on the tray. Her eyes were lowered, but the upward curl of the black lashes somehow conveyed the impression that she was peeping through them. The tilt of the red lips, with the pearly teeth just showing in a smile, was of so alluring an enchantment that the most level-headed of men could scarcely have failed to pause and admire.