Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 6
“I could pick a bit myself,” Colin admitted. “That sea-crossing in the motor-boat seems to have coaxed me into a faint appetite. I must say, when old Craigmore offered us this place I hadn’t a notion he did things on this scale. I thought it would be about the size of a small villa, with surroundings to match. You’re pleased with it, darling?”
“I just love it! And the Dinnets are prize specimens. She doesn’t seem to think anything a trouble. She just says: ‘Of course, ma’am,’ or ‘It’s not a bit of trouble, ma’am,’ or ‘Would you like so-and-so, ma’am?’ or ‘Of course, ma’am, if you’d rather” and so on. And yet she does it all quite naturally, so that it doesn’t sound fussy in the least. How those two between them manage to look after cows and hens and baking and sheep and the house—it’s like a new pin, but you wouldn’t notice that of course—and the electric light plant—did you notice the switches?—well, it’s a miracle.” Colin looked at his watch.
“Time’s on the wing. I’m off. See you when the gong goes.”
CHAPTER II
THE MESSAGE ON THE SHORT WAVES
AFTER a postprandial interview with Mrs. Dinnet, Jean insisted on Colin accompanying her on a tour of the grounds. They visited in succession the kitchen-garden, the greenhouses, the tennis-courts, the fruit-garden, the rosary, the rock-garden with its lily-pond, and the long petal-strewn arcades of the pergolas. The young bride displayed all the enthusiasm of a new proprietor going over a freshly-acquired estate. At the gate leading into the little pine-spinney, she was forced to call a halt; and with a glance at her slippers, she turned reluctantly back towards the house.
“We’ll have to keep that for another time, Colin. It looks a bit wet underfoot, in there. Let’s go and sit in that arbour we saw—the one that looks over the lawn with the sun-dial on it.”
Colin raised no objection, and they wandered back through the twilight. Except for the distant hiss of the waves on the shore and the occasional shrill squeak of a bat flittering overhead there was nothing to break the stillness. Unable to enter into Jean’s ecstasies, Colin was still haunted by misgivings about their stay on the island.
“Sure you won’t find it dull here, darling?” he demanded anxiously as they sat watching the early stars growing brighter in the sky.
“Please don’t ask me again, Colin. This is the fifth time you’ve said that since dinner. You make me think I’ve married a gramophone. It won’t be dull—not a scrap. Why, ever since we landed I’ve been trying to persuade myself that Ruffa’s our own island and we can stay as long as we like, instead of having to turn out in a week or two. That’s how I feel about it, Colin.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Colin confessed, also for the fifth time.
He was a person of strong feelings but limited in expression, so that the same form of words with him had to serve to indicate a whole series of finer shades of feeling.
“Everything’s just providentially arranged,” Jean declared to reassure him. “If we’d been stranded here alone we’d have hungered for some bridge at nights. We won’t even have to go without that. I’ve been making tactful inquiries from Mrs. Dinnet—I’m a marvel of tact when I set about it—and the results are most encouraging, though a bit rough on my vanity.”
Colin made a non-committal sound as she paused.
“I thought I was the only pebble on the beach,” Jean went on, “until she began to talk about this girl, Hazel Arrow at Heath Lodge. She’s evidently the bill-topper where the Dinnet family’s concerned. ‘Such a nice young leddy ma’am. . . . Makes you feel as if you’d known her for years the very first time you meet her.’ So she’s evidently got the gift of being natural. So few people are, at first sight. And she’s evidently got some sense of humour, of sorts. One day she was caught in the rain and got her hair simply soaked. ‘There goes my five-guinea wave,’ she said to Mrs. Dinnet, and Mrs. Dinnet was terribly distressed. ‘But it was only a joke, ma’am. Next day it was just as wavy as ever—lovely chestnut hair, she’s got, ma’am.’ So evidently it’s a natural wave. I wish mine was, Colin. This sea-air’s sure to play the deuce with it, and then you’ll be disgusted. That’s one drawback to Ruffa, worse luck.”
Colin reassured her on the point before allowing her to continue.
“Well, according to Mrs. Dinnet, this girl’s got ‘beautifully arched eyebrows, ma’am, and such a nice smile,’ and so on. I can’t remember half of it; but she went on describing the wretched girl until I was nearly bursting with envy—I really was. The only flaw, from the Dinnet point of view, was that she’s a bit modern in her costume. The Dinnets haven’t quite got educated up to hiker’s kit, I gather.”
“Meaning riding-breeches, puttees, and huge boots?” Colin interjected. “Doesn’t sound over-attractive to me, either.”
“No,” Jean dissented ruminatively. “I don’t think it’s that. Mrs. Dinnet qualified her carp by adding in a hurry: ‘Not that she doesn’t look nice in it, ma’am.’ I don’t think big boots can come into it. Anyhow, we’ll see her for ourselves soon enough. Mrs. Dinnet says she spends her time roaming about the island.”
“What about the rest of the crew at Heather Lodge?” Colin demanded.
“Not quite so popular in the Dinnet circle,” Jean decided in a thoughtful tone. “At least, that’s the impression I got, somehow. The uncle,