Wych Hazel Part 70

'Ah! Don't people get hit occasionally?'

'Very likely. But they do not tell.'

'Ah! My dear, has anybody hit you?'

'Thank you, sir,--I generally keep on the ground.'

Mr. Falkirk suspended his questions for the s.p.a.ce of five minutes.

'I have not heard of your taking any rides lately,' he began again.

'No, sir.'

'How comes that?'

'It comes by my refusing to go.'

'Why, my dear?' said her guardian, looking her innocently in the face.

'Aren't you glad, sir?--How do you do, Mr. Kingsland? Will you be kind enough to explain to Mr. Falkirk the last code of flirtation? while I go and give an order?'

'It is the only thing in which Miss Kennedy is not unsurpa.s.sed,--to make my definition short,' said the gentleman, taking a chair. 'I think she will never learn.'

Primrose Maryland was the immediate next arrival; and she sat down on the other side of Mr. Falkirk, looking as innocent as her name. Mr. Falkirk had always a particular favour for Primrose.

'Did you come alone, my dear?' he incautiously asked; for Mr.

Kingsland was at his other elbow. And Prim knew no better than to answer according to fact.

'Where is Rollo?'

'I don't know, sir. I suppose he is at home.'

'Doubtless thinking one guardian may suffice--as it is a mere croquet party,' said Mr. Kingsland smoothly, but with a covert glance of his eye at Mr. Falkirk. Both Primrose and Mr.

Falkirk glanced at him in return, but his words got no other recognition, for people began to come upon the scene. And the scene speedily became gay; everybody arriving by the side entrance and pa.s.sing through the broad hall to the front of the house. Wych Hazel, returned from her errand, came now slowly through the hall herself with the last arrival.

'I feared you were ill with fatigue,' said a pleasant man's voice. 'Three times I have called to inquire, and three times gone away in despair.'

'I was very tired.'

'But what was the matter?' said the gentleman, pausing in the doorway. 'Some call of sudden illness? a demand upon your sympathies?'

'Nothing of the kind.'

'How then?' said Captain Lancaster, with an appearance of great interest. 'One does not lose a pleasure--and such a pleasure--without at least begging to know why. If it is permitted. We began to think that the witches must have got hold of you in that dark room.'

'One did,' said the girl, so gravely that Captain Lancaster was posed. She knew perfectly well what ears were listening; but there was something in her nature which always disdained to creep out of a difficulty; so she stood still, and answered as he had spoken, aloud.

'O, Miss Kennedy,' cried Molly Seaton, 'that's a fib. Not a real witch?'

'Pretty genuine, I think,' said Hazel, with her half laugh.

Now there is no way in the world to puzzle people like telling them the truth. The gentleman and the lady were puzzled.

Stuart Nightingale and half a dozen more came up at the instant; and the question of the game to be played, for the time scattered all other questions.

For a while now the little green at Chickaree was a pretty sight. Dotted with a moving crowd of figures, in gay-coloured dresses, moving in graceful lines or standing in pretty att.i.tudes; the play, the s.h.i.+fting of places, the cries and the laughter, all made a flas.h.i.+ng, changing picture, full of life and full of picturesque prettiness. The interests of the game were at first absorbing. When a long match had been played, however, and there was a pause for refreshments, there was also a chance for rolling b.a.l.l.s in the more airy manner Wych Hazel had indicated.

'What was the matter the other night?' Stuart Nightingale demanded softly, as he brought the little lady of the house an ice.

'I could not stay.'

'Summoned home by no disaster?'--

'It was a sort of disaster to me to be obliged to go,' said Wych Hazel, 'but I found neither earthquake nor volcano at home.'

'Who came for you, Hazel?' said Phinny Powder, pus.h.i.+ng into the group which was forming. 'I said it was downright wicked to let you go off so. How did we know but that something dreadful had got hold of you? I thought they ought all of them to go in a body and knock the doors down and find out. But after your message they wouldn't. Who _did_ come for you, Hazel?'

'Who did?' said Hazel. 'Do you think it could have been the same parties who once sent away my carriage when I wanted it?'

'No,' said Phinny; 'I know it wasn't. But who _did_ come for you, Hazel? n.o.body knew where you were. And what made you go, if there was no earthquake at home, as you said?'

'Were you _made_ to go, really?' asked Mme. Lasalle, slyly. 'Has Josephine hit the mark with a stray arrow?'

'O, of course I was made to go,--or I shouldn't have gone,'

said Wych Hazel lightly. 'My own carriage came for me, Josephine, and I came home in it. Do you feel any better?'

'No, I don't!' said that young lady boldly, while others who were silent used their eyes. '_You_ didn't order it, and I just want to know who did. O, Hazel, I want to ask you--' But she lowered her voice and glanced round her suspiciously.

'Is it safe? Where is that old Mr.----? do you see him anywhere?

He has eyes, and I suppose he has ears. Hus.h.!.+ I guess it's safe. Hazel, my dear, _have_ you got two guardians, you poor creature?'

'Have you only just found that out?' said Hazel, drawing a little back from the whisper and answering aloud. 'Prim, what will you have? Mr. May, please bring another ice for Miss Maryland.'

'Well, I've guessed it all summer,' said Kitty Fisher, putting her word in now. 'I always knew that when Miss Kennedy turned round, the Duke turned too, to see what she was looking at.'

If truth be no slander, it is sometimes full as hard to bear.

Wych Hazel eat her own ice for the next two minutes and wondered what it was.

'Hazel, my dear, you had need to be a saint!' Mme. Lasalle whispered. 'It is--absolutely--outrageous; something not to be borne!'

'But the fun of it is,' broke in Kitty again, 'that we all took it for granted it was mere lover-like devotion! And now, behold, c'est tout au contraire!'

Since the day of the ride it had been war to the knife with Kitty Fisher.

'Kitty! Kitty!' said Mr. Kingsland in soft deprecation.

'My dear,' Mme. Lasalle went on mockingly, 'perhaps he would not approve of your eating so much ice. Hadn't you better take care?'

'Must we ask him about everything now, before we can have you?' cried Josephine, in great indignation, quite unfeigned, though possibly springing from a double root. 'O, was it _he_ came for you to Greenbush?'