THE COLLECTED NOVELS OF E. M. DELAFIELD (6 Titles in One Edition). E. M. Delafield
the girl isn't," said Zella, with a recollection i of the most unbutterfly-like ponderousness of Miss St. Craye's manner.
"Alison is by way of being clever; and she certainly had a great deal of money spent on her education, but I do not fancy there is much in it. A showy smattering of languages and being able to play the 'cello a little is not real cleverness, dear, as you will find out when you are older. But she pretends, rather artfully, to be very intellectual. I do not fancy you will have anything in common with her."
Zella considered inwardly that, if the atmosphere was to be intellectual, artful or otherwise, she would, on the contrary, find herself far more at home there than in the society to which Mrs. Lloyd-Evans had introduced her. But she, naturally, did not make this observation aloud.
"Very likely Lady St. Craye asked you to stay there because she likes having another girl in the house, and hopes it may be good for Alison. That girl is not at all popular, and very likely the girls whom she meets in London would not care to go and stay there and be patronized in Alison's aggravating manner. It was really rather artful of her to ask you, who are very young and inexperienced, and naturally do not know anyone in London yet."
This flattering explanation of her invitation was not shared by Zella, who preferred to think that the discerning eye of Miss St. Craye had noted an intellectual affinity between them.
Zella was quite aware that she and the average nice simple, unaffected girls eulogized by Mrs. Lloyd-Evans had nothing in common; and although theoretically Zella might look upon this as a mark of her own superiority, each practical example of it humiliated and made her feel inferior. But she was conscious now of a subtle anticipation that in Alison St. Craye's surroundings she might at least find herself acclaimed and recognized by kindred spirits.
She entered the drawing-room of the St. Crayes' house that afternoon with a firm conviction that here at last would be found the right atmosphere, that one with which she should find herself in perfect harmony, and which she had always sought, and as invariably missed, in all the varying surroundings of her short life.
The first indication of standards other than conventional ones was vouchsafed to her even on the threshold of the drawing-room.
Alison St. Craye, unsuitably dressed in a winter tweed skirt and loose Holland blouse, was vigorously pushing furniture across the parquet flooring, and clearing a space in the middle of the large, beautiful room.
Lady St. Craye, looking helpless and exquisite in an elaborate lace frock, was propelling a little velvet musics-tool rather aimlessly across the floor. At the sight of Zella she abandoned the music-stool with every appearance of relief, and trailed towards her.
"I am so very glad you have come, my dear," she said, kissing her. "How nice to see you, and what a pretty frock!"
Zefla surmised that Lady St. Craye would have found some such heartfelt exclamation to welcome a youthful guest had she been clothed in sackcloth, but she was none the less pleased by the little compliment.
Alison said: "So you have come. Good! Now, I want you to be quite candid. Are you one of those who are content to live as ornamental adjuncts—which you certainly are qualified to be—or can you work, as I work, with heart, head, and hands? If so, I warn you that I shall request your help in moving the sofa instantly, so beware that you reply with due circumspection."
In spite of her species of polysyllabic playfulness, there was a compelling earnestness about Alison St. Craye's speech that caused Zella, who hated exertion, and, moreover, was conscious of having on her prettiest frock, to reply with an eagerness that yet sounded even to her own ears curiously unconvincing:
"Oh, I would far rather help you. I love work."
Alison ejaculated her favourite " Good!" and Lady St. Craye said plaintively:
"But surely Longdon and one of the footmen could move the sofa, darling. I am sure we cannot manage it ourselves."
"We are all three able-bodied women," said Alison . coldly. "You know, I think it degrading, to both parties alike, that one human being should pay another to wait upon him hand and foot."
"You are a Socialist?" asked Zella, anxious to show Alison by the matter-of-factness of her tone that no advanced views could surprise or startle her.
"Not in the vulgar canting sense of the word," said Alison gravely. "I believe in the universal Brotherhood of Creation. My creed is a very simple one, and yet all the religions in the world, worthy of the name, have tried to attain to it—and failed. I do not believe in narrow sects, churches, and dogmas. I believe in the beautiful world all round us; I believe in fresh air, sunshine, friendship, and kindness to everyone; above all, in the universal Brotherhood that binds us all."
It sounded very simple and beautiful.
Zella, already more dominated than she knew by the stronger personality, wondered whether Truth did not perhaps fie in that broad, simple creed, so earnestly enunciated.
"Dear," said Lady St. Craye gently, "if you want the debate to begin at five o'clock, I am afraid people will soon be arriving. It's after four, and you know we haven't put the chairs out yet."
Alison looked at Zella, cast up her eyes with a humorously despairing expression, and said with good-natured tolerance:
"Yes, yes, my dear mother. You prefer the concrete question of gilt chairs. Well, produce your gilt chairs, by all means."
Lady St. Craye looked helpless.
"They are in the morning-room, you know, dear."
"Let us track them to their lair," responded Alison humorously.
Proceeding downstairs, Lady St. Craye said to Zella: "Alison has a Debating Society, you know, and they meet once a week, at one another's houses. At least, they really meet here, oftener than anywhere, because, of course, it is not always possible for the others to get possession of a suitable room; and Alison is so keen about it, she doesn't mind any amount of trouble. It is really very interesting to hear them sometimes."
"What do they debate about?" asked Zella with some curiosity.
"All sorts of things, my dear. This evening I know the subject will be 'Is the Theory of Reincarnation Compatible with Orthodox Christianity?" because Alison is proposing it. And then somebody else will oppose her, and they will all say what they think. It is sometimes very interesting to listen to them all," repeated Lady St. Craye, rather in the voice of a dutiful child repeating an oft-taught lesson.
In the morning-room, evidently a disused apartment of the big house, gilt chairs were stacked in couples, one upon another. They each seized two and crossed the hall again in slow procession.
The neatly-garbed black figure of a lady's-maid suddenly shot swiftly across their path, and, addressing a reproachful "Oh, miladi!" to Lady St. Craye, relieved her of her burden.
"Mais non, mais non—laissez, ma bonne Antoinette," said Alison patronizingly.
"Je pense—je pense "faltered Lady St. Craye,
looking reluctantly at the chairs in Antoinette's capable grasp.
"De grâce, miladi! et votre dentelle! Et avec ca que vous serez morte ce soir!"
"My mother is ruled by her maid, as are most women who submit to the infliction," laughed Alison over her shoulder.
"I think Antoinette might help to carry the chairs, Alison," said Lady St. Craye wistfully, "and you know how cross she gets if she thinks I am tiring myself."
"As you will," replied Alison indifferently.
The remaining chairs were brought in by Antoinette, and arranged in a semicircle facing the window, where stood a small table and a larger chair.
"Let me see: five—ten—twelve. We shall want more than that. The outside number is fifteen, and perhaps they will all come. Anyhow, we must be prepared."
"Il en faudra quinze, Antoinette," said Alison, contemplating them with her head on one side.
"You