The Heart of Una Sackville | Page 9

scent of pot-pourri in china vases. That's the sort of room I like. I mean to marry a man who belongs to a very ancient family, so that I may have lots of beautiful old furniture.
Mother gave me histories of the various hostesses as we drove up to the houses.
"A dreadfully trying woman, I do hope she is out." "Rather amusing. I should like you to see her." "A most hopeless person--absolutely no conversation. Now, darling, take a lesson from her and never, never allow yourself to relapse into monosyllables. It is such a hopeless struggle if all one's remarks are greeted with a `No' or a `Yes,' and when girls first come out they are very apt to fall into this habit. Make a rule that you will never reply to a question in less than four words, and it is wonderful what a help you will find it.
"Twist the ends of your veil, dear, they are sticking out... Oh dear, dear, she is at home! I do have such shocking bad fortune."
She trailed out of the carriage sighing so deeply that I was terrified lest the servant should hear. I shall never call on people unless I want to see them. It does seem such a farce to grumble because they are at home, and then to be sweet and pleasant when you meet.
Mrs Greaves was certainly very silent, but I liked her. She looked worn and tired, but she had beautiful soft brown eyes which looked at you and seemed to say a great deal more than her lips. Do you know the kind of feeling when you like people and know they like you in return? I was perfectly certain Mrs Greaves had taken a fancy to me before she said, "I should like to introduce my daughter to you," and sent a message upstairs by the servant. I wondered what the girl would be like; a young edition of Mrs Greaves might be pretty, but there was an expression on mother's face which made me uncertain. Then she came in, a pale badly dressed girl, with a sweet face and shy awkward manners. Her name was Rachel, and she took me to see the conservatory, and I wondered what on earth we should find to say. Of course she asked first of all--
"Are you fond of flowers?" and I remembered mother's rule and replied, "Yes, I love them." That was four words, but it didn't seem to take us much further somehow, so I made a terrific effort and added, "But I don't know much about their names, do you?"
"Yes, I think I do. I feel as if it was a kind of courtesy we owe them for giving us so much pleasure. We take it as a slight if our own friends mispronounce or misspell our own names, and surely flowers deserve as much consideration from us," quoth she.
Goodness! how frightfully proper and correct. I felt so quelled that there was no more spirit left in me, and I followed her round listening to her learned descriptions and saying, "How pretty!" "Oh, really!" in the most feeble manner you can imagine.
All the while I was really looking at her more than the flowers, and discovering lots of things. Number one--sweet eyes just like her mother's; number two--sweet lips with tiny little white teeth like a child's; number three--a long white throat above that awful collar. Quotient--a girl who ought to be quite sweet, but who made herself a fright. I wondered why! Did she think it wrong to look nice--but then, if she did, why did she love the flowers just for that very reason? Rachel Greaves! I thought the name sounded like her somehow--old- fashioned, and prim, and grey; but the next moment I felt ashamed, for, as if she guessed what I was thinking, she turned to me and said suddenly--
"Will you tell me your name? I ought to know it to add to my collection, for you are like a flower yourself."
Wasn't it a pretty compliment? I blushed like anything, and said--
"It must be a wild one, I'm afraid. I look hot-housey this afternoon, for I'm dressed up to pay calls, but really I have just left school, and feel as wild as I can be. You mustn't be shocked if you meet me in a short frock some morning tearing about the fields."
She leant back against the stand, staring at me with such big eyes, and then she said the very last thing in the world which I expected to hear.
"May I come with you? Will you let me come too some day?"
Come with me! Rachel Greaves, with her solemn face, and dragged-back hair, and her proper conversation. To tear about the fields! I nearly had a fit.
"I suppose you