Aunt Patty's Paying Guests by Eglanton Thorne

GREENTREE HALL, the residence of Squire Canfield, as the countryfolk called him, was situated not more than a quarter of a mile from "Gay Bowers," measuring the distance as the crow flies. The entrance gates and pretty thatched lodge stood midway between the Vicarage and the village green. A fine avenue of elms led up to the Hall, which had been the home of Canfields for many generations. The present owner of the property, a man verging on old age, was a worthy descendant of the good old family.

John Canfield was justly proud of his venerable house and beautiful grounds. He employed several gardeners, and could boast the best-kept gardens in the neighbourhood. His head gardener was wont to win the chief prizes at most of the local flower shows. The extensive conservatories belonging to Greentree Hall were well worth seeing, and when they were in the perfection of their beauty the Squire would invite all his friends and acquaintances for many miles round to come and see them. The garden party, for which Mrs. Canfield issued invitations every June, was a festivity much appreciated in the locality, and by no means despised by town folk, for a good many visitors came from London by the mid-day express to assist at it. Mrs. Canfield was generally fortunate in having good weather for her entertainment. Never could she have had a more brilliant day than this promised to be.

Aunt Patty needed my help in various ways that morning, and I was glad to be well occupied. I saw hardly anything of Agneta before luncheon. She kept upstairs, and I fancied she was engaged in arranging some details of her dress for the afternoon. Mrs. Canfield, with whom Aunt Patty was on the most neighbourly terms, had begged her to bring her young people early, as she wanted our assistance in starting the games.

Her own daughters were both married; one, the wife of an Essex M. P., was coming from town with her husband for the day. Aunt Patty had promised that we would be there by three o'clock, for which hour the guests were invited.

My toilette was quickly made-a short, light skirt and a pretty blouse, specially designed by Olive for the occasion, gave me an agreeable sense of being suitably attired.

"You look as nice as possible, Nan," Agneta said, casting a careless glance at me as she fastened her shoe-string. "One cannot be very smart when one is expected to play tennis."

"Nevertheless you seem to have achieved it," I said as I looked at her. She was dressed as I had not seen her before-in a short skirt and smart little coat of white serge, with gold buttons and gold braiding on collar and cuffs. Her vest was of pale blue silk, daintily finished with lace, and her simple white hat completed a costume which was in remarkably good taste for my cousin. "I never saw you more becomingly dressed."

She laughed, and her face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you," she said. "I am glad you approve; it is something to win a compliment from you."

Her trouble of yesterday seemed entirely to have vanished, unless her excessive nervousness were a trace of it. It must be weakness that made her lips twitch so strangely as she talked, and the fingers with which she was tying her shoe strings tremble so much that she was very slow in securing them.

As I observed her I heard Aunt Patty's voice from below, crying:

"Come, girls, are you ready? It is time we went."

"You are ready, are you not, Agneta? " I said.

"Oh, yes-only-I must find another handkerchief," she replied. "Don't wait for me, Nan-I'll overtake you. I know the way through the fields."

I ran downstairs, and told Aunt Patty that Agneta would be there in a minute. Apparently the handkerchief was hard to find, for though we waited several minutes she did not come. At last we passed into the garden. We had no intention of walking by the road. We had only to go through the orchard and across two fields beyond, and we were in Greentree Park. So aunt and I strolled slowly on. Colonel Hyde and Mr. Dicks would follow later, but we knew that Mrs. Canfield would like us to be there when her guests began to arrive.

"What can be keeping Agneta? " I said when we reached the end of the first field. We waited, looking impatiently towards "Gay Bowers," but she did not appear. "I must run back and hurry her," I said at last. "She has not been to the Hall before, so I cannot leave her to follow alone. Don't wait for us, auntie."

"I suppose you had better go back," said aunt reluctantly, "but don't make yourself hot by running. I will walk on slowly."

In spite of aunt's warning, I retraced my steps pretty quickly. Nothing was to be seen of Agneta. I called to her as I entered the house, but received no reply. I hurried upstairs to our room; it was unoccupied. Hastening downstairs again, I encountered Jenny, our housemaid.

"Miss Redmayne has gone, miss," she said. "I saw her go out of the gate a few minutes ago."

"Out of the gate," I repeated. "Do you mean that she went by the road? Whatever made her do that? It is much farther."

"So I thought, miss," replied Jenny. "I wondered she should take that way, with all the dust there'll be from the vehicles coming along presently. She had her dust-cloak on her arm, though."