Lippa Part 3

'A very grand one I think,' he replies, 'but I should never have thought you would care for that kind of literature.'

'Why not?--'

'Because, well, I should have thought it would have been too deep for you--'

'Really,' then after a pause, 'do you know _that_ wasn't very polite--'

'Wasn't it? suppose I say then that I am agreeably surprised--'

'That's nearly as bad, if not quite, it sounds as if you expected me to read nothing but books like the "Daisy Chain," or "Laneton Parsonage."'

'Very excellent books too--'

'Oh, Paul! how _tiresome_ you are, do you know I,' and then Miss Seaton is filled with confusion, she has called him by his Christian name and he is looking at her and smiling. 'I--er beg your pardon,' she says quickly in her childish way.

'What for?' asks he, pretending not to understand her.

'For calling you by your Christian name--'

'Well, and what harm was there?'

'You see,' she says deprecatingly, 'Mabel is always talking about you, and so I get into the habit of talking of you as Paul.'

Paul rises and standing in front of her says--'As I said before, where is the harm? I have never called you anything else but Philippa, or Lippa; I could not address you as Miss Seaton, it does not suit you one bit you know; now let us make it a compact from henceforth, I call you Lippa, and you call me Paul.'

'Very well,' replies she.

'What ever are you two doing here,' and the curtain is hastily drawn aside by Mabel. 'You look as grave as judges, come and have some strawberries and cream, Lady Dadford has gone.'

At the sound of strawberries, Lippa hastily rises, and they go into the front room, where Jimmy Dalrymple is.

'How do you do,' says Philippa, wondering how long he has been there.

And then they attack the strawberries.

'I'm longing to know what you two were talking about,' says Mabel.

Paul laughs and replies, 'We were settling a very weighty matter, weren't we, Lippa?'

Philippa merely says 'Yes,' and longs to turn the conversation, for what may not Jimmy think.

In truth he feels an unaccountable overwhelming desire to know what the weighty matter was, but he is not to know, and therefore is kept on tenter hooks for some time.

'She came to ask us all to a cattle show and ball,' Mrs Seaton is saying.

'Who?' asks her brother.

'Lady Dadford; she particularly wants you.'

'I feel highly honoured, I'm sure--'

'Are you going?' says Lippa, turning to Dalrymple.

'I was asked, but I don't know whether I shall be able to get away,' he replies, still pondering over the 'weighty matter.'

'Only a few minutes ago you were telling Lady Dadford how pleased you would be to go, Mr Dalrymple; I did not know you were such a humbug,'

cries Mabel.

Jimmy laughs.

'Mrs Boothly,' announces the servant. Philippa retires to the back drawing-room and Dalrymple follows her. 'I have not seen you for ages,'

says he.

'Only a week, I think,' replies Lippa.

'Isn't that seven whole long days?'

'Short I call them, but what have you been doing?'

'Duty.'

'Oh!'

Then after a pause he says, 'I can't make up my mind about the Dadfords, shall I go?'

Lippa feels naughty. 'What difference could it make to me whether you went or not?' she says.

'None, I suppose,' replies he sadly.

'None whatever,' she repeats, 'unless perhaps you make yourself very disagreeable, then I must say I would rather you stayed away.'

'But,' says he, his face brightening, 'suppose I make myself very agreeable, what then?'

'Could you?' she asks coquettishly.

'Miss Seaton,' protests he, 'how cruel you can be.'

But she appears deaf, and enters the other room. Nevertheless she gives him the benefit of a lovely little smile when he goes away, which makes him settle at once as to whether he goes to the Dadfords or not. And of course he is the first person Lippa sees on arriving there, and who shall say that it does not cause her pleasure.

CHAPTER IV

'The fine fat bulls, the dear little sheep, The fat piggy-wiggy wiggies all in a heap, The beautiful Moo cows all in a row, Jolly fine fun at the cattle show.'

Such a lovely day it is; the sun s.h.i.+ning forth in all its glory, casting a touch of gold over everything, while a hush reigns supreme; that lovely stillness that hangs over the earth in the early morning before the work of the day begins.