Variable Winds at Jalna. Mazo de la Roche
bitterness, “Of all men on horseback, he makes me feel the worst.”
The cook stared. “Well, for goodness’ sake!”
“Yes,” said Noah, “my gorge is stirred up when I see him prancing on a horse.”
“I guess you don’t like him, Mr. Binns.”
Noah shook his head and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “It ain’t because I don’t like him. He affected me that way when I first saw him mounted. He was only a toddler and his pa was holdin’ him steady on a Shetland pony. My gorge rose then.”
“Have some more tea,” comforted Mrs. Wragge.
But he pushed away his cup. “No, thanks.” He sighed. “I feel kind of sickly. I guess it’s the humility in the atmosphere. Heat and humility. That’s what I can’t stand. And there’s more of it coming.”
“I suppose you mean humidity,” said Wragge.
“You can call it any fancy name you like. I call it humility. It’s a biblical term and it’s good enough for me.”
The tea tray was now ready and Wragge carried it up the stairs, at the top of which the dogs were waiting.
The intensity of the heat had lessened, but there was a strange stillness in the air as Renny, Finch, Adeline, Fitzturgis, and Archer walked through the ravine and up the steep path to Vaughanlands.
The little stream which had been seeking and finding the lake in all these hundred years since Captain Philip Whiteoak had first spanned it here with a rustic bridge now moved languidly past the luxuriant growth that edged it. A diminutive island of sand was occupied by a stout glistening frog that stared up at those who crossed the bridge with bold-eyed unconcern. A pleasant coolness rose from the water.
“Couldn’t we two stay here,” Fitzturgis whispered to Adeline, “and let the others go on?”
She was astonished. “But, Mait, don’t you want to see Uncle Finch’s new house?”
“Not a thousandth part so much as I want to see you.”
“We shall have all the evening together.” She gave him her eager smile. “I want it as much as you do. But Uncle Finch will expect us to go to the house.”
“How do you know?”
She called out to Finch, who was ahead, “Uncle Finch, do you really want us?”
He stopped and turned to wait for them. “Of course I do.” Yet secretly he would have liked to be alone in this first inspection of the house.
They followed the path across a stubble field where small birds were finding their evening meal. Trees grew so thickly about the house that its whiteness was discernible some time before its design could be guessed, even though a number of trees had been destroyed in the fire which had burned the earlier building. Now this house was seen to be of typical West Coast architecture, all on one floor, with few but very large windows.
“The Vaughan who built the old house must be turning over in his grave,” remarked Renny, first to stand in front of this new one.
“Do you like it?” asked Finch.
“It makes me think of the advertising pages in magazines. All it lacks is a shiny new car and a shiny new wife.”
Adeline said to Fitzturgis, “I adore it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were ours?”
Archer remarked, “It seems to me a perfect house for a concert pianist” — Finch looked doubtfully pleased — “and his pathetic child.”
“I don’t think Dennis is at all pathetic,” said Adeline. “You are pathetic because you imagine you know so much and really know so little.”
Archer was imperturbable. “All children are pathetic,” he said. “And all old people.”
“What about those in between?” asked Fitzturgis.
“They are just pitiable.”
Finch said, “When I have my piano and my furniture it will look different.”
“Shall you get a wife also?” asked Archer.
His father gave him a look and he went and peered in through the largest window.
“That’s the music room,” said Finch. He had the key of the front door and now unlocked it and they trooped into the house. The sound of their steps and their voices were magnified into a false importance. Adeline and Fitzturgis smiled into each other’s eyes, thinking how well they could do with this charming new house.
He said, “I’ve never seen anything like it. The music room is so large. The others small and cozy. The outdoors seems to come right in at the windows. It seems made for —” He hesitated, searching for a word.
“Us,” put in Adeline. “If ever you tire of it, Uncle Finch, we’ll take it over.”
“It will cost plenty to furnish it,” said Renny. “There are some nice old pieces at Jalna I can let you have. Chairs and a cabinet.”
“Thanks. I’d love to have them — if Alayne wouldn’t mind.”
Archer looked thoughtful. “She’d mind very much, I’m pretty sure.”
“Why,” said Renny, “your mother often remarks that the house has too much furniture.”
“It’s one thing,” said Archer, “to say that, but it’s quite another to give the things away.”
At this remark everyone but him looked embarrassed. Finch said, “It would only be temporary. I’d give the things back whenever she wanted.”
Archer looked intensely interested. “I’ve heard her say that if you lend a piece of furniture to anyone it’s the hardest thing in the world to get it back again. When they’ve possessed it for a while they look on it as their own and they resist if you ask for it. Aunty Meg was like that with an occasional table we lent her.”
“After all,” Renny said, “the furniture belongs to me.”
“Would you dare take the occasional table?” asked Archer.
“I have forgotten the incident.”
Renny led the way through the echoing house. “It’s a tiny place,” he said. “Just three bedrooms. I don’t see where you all are to sleep.”
“All?” repeated Finch, trying to look as though he did not understand.
“Yes. One for you. One for Dennis. That leaves one for Meg and the girls. But Roma will be getting married.”
Archer said, “I don’t think Aunty Meg will like to share a room with Patience who so often comes in from working in the stable.”
“What a marvelous kitchen!” exclaimed Adeline. “And no basement stairs! No one need mind doing the work in this house. I’d just love it.”
“Mercy!” said Archer.
V
Maurice at Home
PHEASANT HELD MAURICE tightly in her arms, her eyes searching his face with loving anxiety. “I just can’t believe in you …” Her voice had both laughter and tears in it. “Are you sure you are here in the flesh?”
“Yes, and with a mosquito bite already.”
“Oh, Mooey, darling …”
How sweet the childish name sounded to him! He smiled lovingly down into her eyes. Piers was occupied with the car and let him go into the house alone. The room, with its memories of childhood, engulfed him. It was hard for him to free himself from them, to see his mother clearly. Hardest of all to forget was the goodbye they had said when he had first gone to Ireland. Neither of them would ever forget that. It had left its scar on them.
But