Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 50
“Easy enough,” Colin admitted.
“Then I mustn’t detain you any longer, Mr. Trent, or Mrs. Trent may begin to wonder what you’re doing. By the way, how are you going to account for all the time spent in this palaver?”
“Listening to a monologue on your theory of the west coast,” Colin said with a smile. “Could hardly tear myself away from your eloquence, and all that.”
“Excellent!” Wenlock agreed. “And now I’d like a few more words with Dinnet, if I can get him alone.”
Colin took the hint and rejoined Jean in the drawing-room. To his relief he was not called upon to tell her even the smallest white lie. Mrs. Dinnet was with her, but withdrew hurriedly and apologetically when Colin appeared.
“Colin,” said Jean, as the door closed, “poor Mrs. Dinnet’s lost her mother.”
“Oh,” Colin interjected sympathetically.
“She died very suddenly, it seems. Of course, she was over eighty, so it had to come some time. But still, Mrs. Dinners very cut up about it. Dinnet got word when he went over to Stornadale to-night. It’s been a bad shock to both of them. It seems Dinnet was very fond of the old lady too.”
Colin made a sympathetic noise. He had a kind heart, but his powers of expression in these cases were very limited.
“You know, Colin,” Jean went on, “these Dinnets are awfully decent people. What do you think was worrying her? She and Dinnet want to go over and look after things; there’s only an unmarried sister on the spot. But Mrs. Dinnet was in a state about leaving us here to look after ourselves for a day or two. ‘Of course, ma’am, we ought to go, but if you’d rather we didn’t, then I can stay and look after you while Dinnet goes by himself. I’m really terribly put out, ma’am, to think of giving you trouble.’ And so on. She was quite genuinely worried, poor old thing. Of course I told her she must go. But she would hardly be persuaded until I threatened to get cross with her. As if I couldn’t manage to cook well enough to feed you for a couple of days! The very idea!”
“Poor old thing,” said Colin. “Jolly decent of her, as you say, dear; but as if we’d think of such a thing. Pity these old family retainers are dying out. They don’t make ’em nowadays. We’ll manage quite O.K. You do the cooking and I’ll do the washing-up. Make a bit of a picnic of it, what? And Dinnet can let me see how to run the electric light plant, if it needs looking after. Poor old Mrs. Dinnet. Must be feeling very sad. So unexpected and all that.”
He glanced out of the window and his eye was caught by lines of white horses on the sea.
“Hope they’ll get off all right. Looks as if it might be blowing up a bit before long. When are they going?”
“First thing after breakfast to-morrow morning. Mrs. Dinnet would not hear of going to-night, when I suggested it. ‘Oh, no, ma’am, we couldn’t think of it—leaving you here at a moment’s notice, like that!’ And when I tried to insist she told some story about not being able to get a conveyance of any sort at Stornadale to-night, anyhow. So that clinched it and she got her own way, of course.”
“She’s a decent old soul. We’ll manage all right. By the way, they’ll be taking the motorboat. You’ll have no chance of getting off your beloved island until they come back, my young Crusoe. If you want to get to the mainland, you’ll have to borrow the Heather Lodge skiff and row yourself across. Can’t count on me for that job, I give fair and clear warning. Too much like work, for Colin.”
“I shan’t worry,” Jean assured him.
“By the way, I suppose the Dinnets will be away for a couple of days? There’s the funeral and all that.”
“I said they weren’t to hurry, Colin. But I expect they’ll hurry home again as fast as they can, for all that. Mrs. Dinnet really seems to think we’re not fit to look after ourselves. Quite worried about it.”
Colin shrugged his shoulders. If the Dinnets chose to look at things in that way, argument would do no good.
“By the way, Colin,” Jean went on, “who was the man in the boat with Dinnet this evening? I happened to look out of the window and caught a glimpse of him as they landed. Did Dinnet tell you any more about him? Ruffa seems to be filling up. We’ll be overcrowded, if people come rushing over at this rate.”
“I saw the fellow himself a minute or two ago,” Colin acknowledged. “He told me he was a bit of a geologist. Trying to prove some theory or other, he said. He’s going to camp out. Won’t disturb us at all.”
“Nice?” Jean questioned.
“Not our style,” Colin assured her hastily. “Likely to be a bit of a bore, if let loose.”
He congratulated himself inwardly on having kept strictly within the bounds of veracity. But it seemed advisable to change the subject.
“By the way, dear, can you cook? I engaged you without a character, you know.”
“I’m not a bit worried about my cooking capacity,” Jean averred. “The real question is whether I can get you to eat what I’ve cooked, Colin. If you don’t like it, then you can just massacre a tin. Mrs. Dinnet says there’s heaps of tinned stuff in stock, and it won’t do you any harm to live on it for a couple of days. I asked what there is. Five minutes with a