And they did it too, amid laughter and jokes—in the summer-house, for fear of Forbes catching them at it. Certainly the Thorntons were very kind as well as very jolly. They really were ideal paying guests.
They were energetic photographers and photographed the girls and the house, reluctant Mrs. Doveton and enthusiastic Gladys. They played at concerts with sufficient frequency to give their presence at home an added value. In all weather they sallied out, their evening dress closely hidden under mackintoshes, their great instruments duly encased, returning often long after everyone had gone to bed. And they were always punctual in the breakfast-room—the two men cheery and attentive and Mrs. Thornton as pretty and as fresh as a pink. They never played their instruments at Cedar Court, though they sang and acted readily enough. "We like a holiday from them when we can get it," Mrs. Thornton explained. "They're our shop. You should never mix the shop and the home."
"I hope your aunt is not seriously ill, you know," said Mr. Thornton that evening, when for the second time Miss Lucas failed to appear in the drawing-room.
"Oh no," said Lucilla, and then suddenly, after a queer little pause: "She's much better. In fact she's gone to Bath to-day with my cousin."
"I should have liked to say good-bye to her," said Mr. Tombs. "We shall miss her, shan't we?" It may have been her guilty conscience that made Lucilla feel almost sure that there had been a twinkle in Mr. Tombs' eye.
But Miss Antrobus said outright: "When did she go?"
"This morning, while you were at your Help for Heroes Committee meeting," Lucilla told her, triumphing in the fact that there had been a space of time in which a dozen Aunt Harriets could have got away without Miss Antrobus's notice.
"I am so sorry I missed seeing her," said Miss Antrobus calmly. "I must write and tell her so. What is her address?"
