Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 4
However, the immediate business was to find the master. She
walked across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a
little uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can
you tell me where the master is? It's Mr. Robert called."
"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book. "Who?"
Audrey repeated her question.
"I don't know. Isn't he in the office? He went up to the Temple
after lunch. I don't think I've seen him since."
"Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple."
Cayley returned to his book.
The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back
of the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark
meditated sometimes before retiring to the "office" to put his
thoughts upon paper. The thoughts were not of any great value;
moreover, they were given off at the dinner-table more often than
they got on to paper, and got on to paper more often than they
got into print. But that did not prevent the master of The Red
House from being a little pained when a visitor treated the
Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the ordinary
purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an
occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in
it. Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little
less than his usual point--whether they couldn't find anywhere
else for their game, but the offenders were never asked to The
Red House again.
Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked
slowly back. All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was
upstairs in his room. "Not well-dressed enough for the
drawing-room." Well, now, Auntie, would you like anyone in your
drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his neck and great big
dusty boots, and--listen! One of the men shooting rabbits.
Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot it
was; she wouldn't say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr.
Robert wasn't staying the night; he hadn't any luggage. Of
course Mr. Mark could lend him things; he had clothes enough for
six. She would have known him anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother.
She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper's room on
her way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather
frightened face looked out.
"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie. "It's Audrey," she said, turning into
the room.
"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?"
"Up to the Temple."
"Did you hear anything?"
"Hear what?"
"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved. "One of the men shooting
rabbits. Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's
partial to a nice rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised
if--"
"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully. "It was inside the house,
my girl."
"Straight it was," said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids.
"I said to Mrs. Stevens--didn't I, Mrs. Stevens?--'That was in
the house,' I said."
Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|