Etheldreda the Ready | Page 6

children--after to-day, the love would continue
unchanged, but the luxuries must come to an end.
The meal was unusually silent, both Mr and Mrs Saxon and the elder
boys and girls being too much oppressed by their own feelings to be
able to indulge in ordinary light conversation; only Harold and Maud
remained unconscious of the cloud in the atmosphere, and everyone
was thankful for their artless prattle, which filled up what would
otherwise have been a painful silence. As for the twins, they were quite
elated to find so attentive an audience, for as a rule their attempts to
enter the conversation were severely nipped in the bud. "That's enough,
thank you!" Rowena would say in her most lofty manner. "Shut up, you
kids. A fellow can't hear himself speak for your row!" Gurth would call
out fiercely. Even when Mrs Saxon was present she would shake her
head gently across the table, to enforce the oft-repeated axiom that in so
large a family the younger members must perforce learn to be quiet at
table. Maud beamed with pleasure at being allowed to continue her
never-ending descriptions without a word of remonstrance. She was a
fair, pretty, somewhat stupid child, gifted with an overflow of words,
which were, however, singularly incapable of conveying any definite
impression. Observation she possessed in abundance, but her discursive
narratives were by no means improved by being weighted by a plethora

of useless detail. One could listen to Maud's efforts to describe her own
doings for half an hour on end, and remain almost as much in the dark
as at the beginning! On the present occasion she was full of excitement
about a wonderful conjurer whose tricks she had witnessed at a
children's party in town three nights before, and which she was anxious
to enumerate for the benefit of the family.
"...He was the most egg-strawdinary creature you ever saw. He did the
most egg-strawdinary things. I'll tell you what he did... You know the
Westons' drawing-room? You go upstairs--crimson carpets, and such
wide brass rods. Then there's a statue holding up a lamp, and the first
door's the drawing-room. All the doors were taken down to make more
room, and there were rows and rows of forms... He was like a
Frenchman with a pointed moustache, but his clothes weren't very
clean... He rolled up his sleeves, and there was a ring on his finger, and
yards and yards of ribbon came out of his thumb. He had a little table in
front of him with bulgy legs. It stands in the corner with silver on it.
Then he asked a boy in the front row for a watch... Mr Weston said he
wouldn't have lent his, but he got it back all right. It was egg-
strawdinary! Meta Rawlins sat by me. She had a pink sash. She says
her father can do it a little bit, only of course not as well as this one.
Then there was an egg. If he had broken it, it would have made a mess
on the carpet! Meta said perhaps it was stone. He talked all the time, so
funny and quick, and one of his front teeth was out. He asked if any
boy or girl would go up to help him, and Brian Hackett went. He
looked so silly. He had to hold things in his hand, and when he asked
for them, they weren't there. It was egg-strawdinary! We had supper in
the dining-room, jellies and cream, and presents in the trifle. I saw the
conjurer having his in the library. I never saw anything so
egg-strawdinary in all my life!"
Gurth and Hereward exchanged expressive glances, Rowena frowned
impatience, Mrs Saxon smiled a faint amusement, and Maud continued
to prattle on, blissfully unconscious of the fact that no one troubled to
listen.
It was after everyone had been fed and refreshed that the explanation of

the mysterious summons from town was given, in response to an
outspoken question from Dreda, whose impetuous nature was ever
impatient of suspense.
"Mother, what has happened? There must be something, or you would
never have left town and sent for us in such a hurry. Can't you tell us
now? It's something horrid, of course! And it's horrid waiting for horrid
things."
Dreda put both elbows on the table, in flagrant disregard of schoolroom
rules, and leant her charming, eager face in the cup of her hands. She
might describe her state of mind as "horrid," but an appearance more
opposed to such a description it would be impossible to imagine. Dreda
had been hungry, and her hunger was satisfied; she had been cold and
tired, now she was warmed and refreshed; she talked vaguely of
horrible things, but nothing approaching real fear had