Chapter 31

“It’s perfect,” said the twins, looking round the tea-room.

This was next day, at a quarter to four. They had been looking round saying it was perfect at intervals since the morning. Each time they finished getting another of the little tables ready, each time they brought in and set down another bowl of flowers they stood back and gazed a moment in silence, and then said with one voice, “It’s perfect.”

Mr. Twist, though the house was not, as we have seen, quite as sober, quite as restrained in its effect as he had intended, was obliged to admit that it did look very pretty. And so did the Annas. Especially the Annas. They looked so pretty in the sea-blue frocks and little Dutch caps and big muslin aprons that he took off his spectacles and cleaned them carefully so as to have a thoroughly uninterrupted view; and as they stood at a quarter to four gazing round the room, he stood gazing at them, and when they said “It’s perfect,” he said, indicating them with his thumb, “Same here,” and then they all laughed for they were all very happy, and Mrs. Bilton, arrayed exactly as Mr. Twist had pictured her when he engaged her in handsome black, her white hair beautifully brushed and neat, crossed over to the Annas and gave each of them a hearty kiss—for luck, she said—which Mr. Twist watched with an odd feeling of jealousy.

“I’d like to do that,” he thought, filled with a sudden desire to hug. Then he said it out loud. “I’d like to do that,” he said boldly. And added, “As it’s the opening day.”

“I don’t think it would afford you any permanent satisfaction,” said Anna-Felicitas placidly. “There’s nothing really to be gained, we think, by kissing. Of course,” she added politely to Mrs. Bilton, “we like it very much as an expression of esteem.”

“Then why not in that spirit—” began Mr. Twist.

“We don’t hold with kissing,” said Anna-Rose quickly, turning very red. Intolerable to be kissed en famille. If it had to be done at all, kissing should be done quietly, she thought. But she and Anna-Felicitas didn’t hold with it anyhow. Never. Never. To her amazement she found tears in her eyes. Well, of all the liquid idiots ... It must be that she was so happy. She had never been so happy. Where on earth had her handkerchief got to...

“Hello,” said Mr. Twist, staring at her.

Anna-Felicitas looked at her quickly.

“It’s merely bliss,” she said, taking the corner of her beautiful new muslin apron to Christopher’s eyes. “Excess of it. We are, you know,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Mr. Twist, so that the corner of her apron, being undirected, began dabbing at Christopher’s perfectly tearless ears, “quite extraordinarily happy, and all through you. Nevertheless Anna-R.” she continued, addressing her with firmness while she finished her eyes and began her nose, “You may like to be reminded that there’s only ten minutes left now before all those cars that were here yesterday come again, and you wouldn’t wish to embark on your career as a waitress hampered by an ugly face, would you?”

But half an hour later no cars had come. Pepper Lane was still empty. The long shadows lay across it in a beautiful quiet, and the crickets in the grass chirruped undisturbed. Twice sounds were heard as if something was coming up it, and everybody flew to their posts—Li Koo to the boiling water, Mrs. Bilton to her raised desk at the end of the room, and the twins to the door—but the sounds passed on along the road and died away round the next corner.

At half-past four the personnel of The Open Arms was sitting about silently in a state of increasing uneasiness, when Mr. Ridding walked in.

There had been no noise of a car to announce him; he just walked in mopping his forehead, for he had come in the jitney omnibus to the nearest point and had done the last mile on his own out-of-condition feet. Mrs. Ridding thought he was writing letters in the smoking-room. She herself was in a big chair on the verandah, and with Miss Heap and most of the other guests was discussing The Open Arms in all its probable significance. He hadn’t been able to get away sooner because of the nap. He had gone through with the nap from start to finish so as not to rouse suspicion. He arrived very hot, but with a feeling of dare-devil running of risks that gave him great satisfaction. He knew that he would cool down again presently and that then the consequences of his behaviour would be unpleasant to reflect upon, but meanwhile his blood was up.

He walked in feeling not a day older than thirty, —most gratifying sensation. The personnel, after a moment’s open-mouthed surprise, rushed to greet him. Never was a man more welcome. Never had Mr. Ridding been so warmly welcomed anywhere in his life.

“Now isn’t this real homey,” he said, beaming at Anna-Rose who took his stick. “Wish I’d known you were going to do it, for then I’d have had something to look forward to.”

“Will you have tea or coffee?” asked Anna-Felicitas, trying to look very solemn and like a family butler but her voice quivering with eagerness. “Or perhaps you would prefer frothed chocolate? Each of these beverages can be provided either hot or iced—”

“There’s ice-cream as well,” said Anna-Rose, tumultuously in spite of also trying to look like a family butler. “I’d have ice-cream if I were you. There’s more body in it. Cold, delicious body. And you look so hot. Hot things should always as soon as possible be united to cold things, so as to restore the proper balance—”