Love at Second Sight Part 30

'Madame want "nuffing"?' said Marie.

'No, no, no! Don't be so stupid. It's an English thing, Marie; you wouldn't understand. Something I've forgotten to tell the cook about.

It's so cosy I always think in the winter in London. It always cheers me up. You know, what is it?... I know--m.u.f.fins--_m.u.f.fins_!' she said the word carefully to the French maid.

Edith came to the rescue.

'Tell the cook,' she said, 'for madame, that she wants some m.u.f.fins for tea.'

'Oh, oui. Ah, oui, bien, madame. Merci, madame.'

As the maid was going away Lady Conroy called out:

'Oh, tell the cook it doesn't matter. I won't have them today.'

'Bien, madame.'

Edith was already in a somewhat hilarious mood. Lady Conroy didn't irritate her; she amused her almost more than any friend she had.

Besides, once she could be got to concentrate on any one subject, n.o.body was more entertaining. Edith's English humour delighted in her friend's Irish wit.

There was something singularly Irish in the way Lady Conroy managed to make a kind of muddle and untidiness all round her, when she had been in a room a minute or two. When she had entered the room, it was a fine-looking apartment, rather spa.r.s.ely furnished, with very little in it, all severest First Empire style. There were a few old portraits on striped pale green walls, and one large basket of hot-house flowers on a small table. Yet, since her entrance, the room already looked as if several people had been spending the week in it without tidying it up.

Almost mechanically Edith picked up her bag, books, newspaper, cigarettes and the gla.s.ses.

'Well, then, you don't think Madame Frabelle would do?' said Lady Conroy.

'My dear Lady Conroy, Madame Frabelle wouldn't dream of going as a companion or secretary. You want a young girl. She's about fifteen years older than you are and she's staying with me as my guest. I shouldn't even suggest such a thing.'

'Why not? It wouldn't be at all a hard place.'

'No, I know. But she doesn't want a place. She's very well off, remember.'

'Good heavens, she can't have much to do then if she's only staying with you,' said Lady Conroy.

'Oh, she has plenty of engagements. No, I shouldn't advise Madame Frabelle. But I do know of someone.'

'Do you? Oh, darling Edith, how sweet of you. Oh, just ring the bell for me, will you?'

Edith rang.

'I want to send for Marie, my maid, and tell her to order some m.u.f.fins for tea. I forgot to tell the cook.'

'But you have already ordered and countermanded them.'

'Oh, have I?--so I have! Never mind, don't ring. It doesn't matter. Who do you know, dear?'

Standing appeared in answer to the bell.

'What do you want, Standing? You mustn't keep bothering and interrupting me like this. Oh, tea? Yes, bring tea. And tell Marie I shan't want her after all.'

Lady Conroy leant back against her cus.h.i.+ons and with a sigh went on:

'You see, I'm in the most terrible muddle, dear Edith. I don't know where to turn.'

She turned to her writing-table and opened it.

'Look at this, now,' she said rather triumphantly. 'This is all about my war work. Oh no, it isn't. It's an advertis.e.m.e.nt from a washer-woman.

Gracious, ought I to keep it, do you think? No, I don't think I need.'

She folded it up and put it carefully away again.

'Don't you think yourself I need someone?'

'Yes, I do. I think it would be very convenient for you to have a nice girl with a good memory to keep your things in order.'

'That's it,' cried Lady Conroy, delighted, as she lit a cigarette.

'That's it--someone who will prevent me dropping cigarette ash all over the room and remember my engagements and help me with my war work and write my letters and do the telephoning. That's all I shall want. Of course, if she could do a little needlework--No, no, that wouldn't do.

You couldn't expect her to do brainwork as well as needlework.'

Edith broke in.

'Do you remember mentioning to me a girl you met at Boulogne--a nurse called Dulcie Clay?'

'Perfectly well,' answered Lady Conroy, puffing away at her cigarette, and obviously not speaking the truth.

Edith laughed.

'No, my dear, you don't. But it doesn't matter. Well, this girl has been nursing Mr Aylmer Ross, and he doesn't need her any more--at least he won't after next week. Would you see her and judge for yourself? You might try her.'

'I'm sure I shall if I take her. I'm afraid I'm a trying person. I try everyone dreadfully. Oh, by the way, Edith, I met such a perfect angel coming over. He was a wounded soldier. He belongs to the Black Watch.

Doesn't the name Black Watch thrill you? He's in the Irish Guards, so, of course, my heart went out to him.'

'The Irish Guards as well?'

'Oh no. That was another man.'

She put her hand to her forehead.

'I'm worrying you, dear, with my bad memory. I'm so sorry. Well, then, you'll see Madame Frabelle for me?'

'I will if you like, but not as a companion. It's Miss Clay.'

'Miss Clay,' repeated Lady Conroy. 'Ah, here's tea. Do you take milk and sugar. Edith?'

'Let me pour it out,' said Edith, to whom it was maddening to see the curious things Lady Conroy did with the tea-tray. She was pouring tea into the sugar basin, looking up at Edith with the sweetest smile.

'I can't stay long,' Edith went on. 'I'm very sorry, dear, but you remember I told you I'm in a hurry.... I've an appointment at Landi's studio.'

'Landi? And who is that?'

'You know him--the composer--Sir t.i.to.'