Part 65

“I want my lunch,” I ventured to observe.

“Do as I tell you,” said Dolly, stamping her foot; whereat, much intimidated, I went back, and stretched myself once more on the deck chair.

Dolly approached a flower pot. She stooped down, exerting her strength, lifted it, and carried it, not without effort, across the terrace.

Again she did the like. I sat smoking and watching. She lifted a third pot, but dropped it half way. Then, dusting her hands against one another, she came back slowly into the shade and sat down. I made no remark.

Dolly glanced at me.

“Well?” she said.

“Woman--woman--woman!” said I sadly.

“Must I carry some more?” asked Dolly, in a humble, yet protesting, tone.

“Mrs. Hilary,” I began, “is an exceedingly attractive--”

Dolly rose with a sigh.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“More pots,” said Dolly, standing opposite me. “I must go on, you see.”

“Till when, Lady Mickleham?”

“Till you tell the truth,” said Dolly, and she suddenly burst into a little laugh.

“Woman--woman--woman!” said I again. “Let’s go in to lunch.”

“I’m going to carry the pots,” said Dolly. “It’s awfully hot, Mr. Carter--and look at my poor hands!”

She held them out to me.

“Lunch!” said I.

“Pots!” said Dolly, with infinite firmness.

The window of the dining room opened and Archie put his head out.

“Come along, you two,” he called. “Everything’s getting cold.”

Dolly turned an appealing glance on me.

“How obstinate you are!” she said. “You know perfectly well--”

I began to walk towards the house.

“I’m going in to lunch,” said I.

“Ask them to keep some for me,” said Dolly, and she turned up the sleeves of her gown, till her wrists were free.

“It’s most unfair,” said I indignantly.

“I don’t care if it is,” said Dolly, stooping down to lift a pot.