THE AWKWARD AGE
"You mean, like me, why you do go there so much? How can he indeed?"
"I don't mean that," the girl returned—"it's just that that he understands perfectly, because he saw them all, in such an extraordinary way—well, what can I ever call it?—clutch me and cling to me."
Mrs. Brook with full gravity, considered this picture. "And was Mr. Cashmore, to-day, so ridiculous?"
"Ah, he's not ridiculous, mamma—he's very unhappy. He thinks now Lady Fanny probably won't go, but he feels that may be, after all, only the worse for him."
"She will go," Mrs. Brook answered with one of her roundabout approaches to decision. "He is too great an idiot. She was here an hour ago, and if ever a woman was packed—!"
"Well," Nanda objected, "but doesn't she spend her time in packing and unpacking?"
This inquiry, however, scarce pulled up her mother. "No—though she has no doubt, hitherto, wasted plenty of labor. She has now a dozen boxes—I could see them there in her wonderful eyes—just waiting to be called for. So if you're counting on her not going, my dear—!" Mrs. Brook gave a head-shake that was the warning of wisdom.
"Oh, I don't care what she does!" Nanda replied. "What I meant just now was that Mr. Longdon couldn't understand why, with so much to make them so, they couldn't be decently happy."
"And did he wish you to explain?"
"I tried to, but I didn't make it any better. He doesn't like them. He doesn't even care for Tish."
"He told you so—right out?"
"Oh," Nanda said, "of course I asked him. I didn't press him, because I never do—!"
"You never do?" Mrs. Brook broke in as with the glimpse of a new light.
268
