funny,” Lina said coldly. “Give me another cocktail, please.”
Lina had not a very good sense of humour.
All through dinner Johnnie was in the most uproarious spirits and teased Cecil unmercifully.
5
Oddly enough it was, in the end, Lina herself and not Lady Fortnum who lost a piece of valuable jewelry.
About a week after Cecil and Joyce had gone, Lina became aware that a diamond-and-emerald ring was missing from her jewel case. It was not a ring she wore very much, for the setting was old-fashioned and cumbersome, and she had never had it reset, but the stones were good. She had worn it, she remembered, one evening towards the end of Joyce’s visit, and was almost sure she had put it back in the little suede case in which she kept her jewels and trinkets, and which always lay, unlocked, in the top left-hand drawer of her dressing table; but in the case the ring certainly was not.
Her room, and the whole house, was searched, and searched again and again; for, apart from the ring’s value, Lina had a strong sense of possession, and the mere feeling of loss in itself distressed her. However, no sign was ever found of it.
Johnnie was most sympathetic and pointed out with evident glee that, on his own recommendation, all Lina’s jewels had been insured for their full value, only six months or so ago; she would therefore suffer no monetary loss. He helped her make out the claim to the insurance company, and the money duly arrived.
Johnnie was rather urgent that she should lend it to him, for some scheme of his which he assured her would be of immense profit to both of them but about whose details he was a little vague when pressed; but Lina, who could be very obstinate where her own money was concerned, distrusted such nebulousness and bought another and more modern ring.
She remained, however, not a little uneasy about the way in which her old ring had disappeared; and since it boiled down to the fact that nobody but Ella, the house-parlourmaid, could possibly have stolen it if it had been stolen at all, she played for safety by getting rid of Ella. She was the more ready to do so, as she had noticed that the girl had been getting a little pert with her of late, and seemed to resent the very mild and almost smiling reprimands which were all that Lina ever dealt out to her maids.
“I can’t understand what’s happened to her,” Lina complained to Johnnie when they talked it over. “She used to be so good-natured. I suppose really she’s too pretty. She must have had her head turned by some man in the village. Whether she took my ring or not, it’s quite time she did go.”
And Johnnie agreed that it was quite time Ella did go.
So Ella went; and very soon was as completely forgotten as the loss of the ring for which she came to be held responsible.
CHAPTER V
One of the incidents in her married life which Lina always remembered afterwards was the first visit of Mr. Thwaite.
“Mr. Thwaite,” announced Ethel, the new parlourmaid, and left it at that.
Mr. Thwaite was very tall. His nose was large and curved, and his hair sat in little tight curls round his head.
“Hullo,” said Mr. Thwaite loudly. “Hullo, hullo. What?” Mr. Thwaite seemed to think that he had now explained himself.
“Hullo,” said Lina, trying not to laugh and feeling that her visitor must have escaped from the pages of Mr. P. G. Wodehouse.
“So you’re old Johnnie’s wife?” accused Mr. Thwaite, shaking hands.
“I am, yes.”
“Poor old bird, what?” said Mr. Thwaite surprisingly, and then laughed with much amusement. “Didn’t mean that. Putting my foot in it as usual, what? I mean – well, how is the old bean?”
Lina rang for tea and with some difficulty induced her visitor to seat himself. She replied that Johnnie’s health was excellent. He was not in at the moment, but she expected him back for tea.
“Still mugging it in that estate office, eh? Hates it as much as ever, I suppose. What?”
“Yes, he still
Lina had not a very good sense of humour.
All through dinner Johnnie was in the most uproarious spirits and teased Cecil unmercifully.
5
Oddly enough it was, in the end, Lina herself and not Lady Fortnum who lost a piece of valuable jewelry.
About a week after Cecil and Joyce had gone, Lina became aware that a diamond-and-emerald ring was missing from her jewel case. It was not a ring she wore very much, for the setting was old-fashioned and cumbersome, and she had never had it reset, but the stones were good. She had worn it, she remembered, one evening towards the end of Joyce’s visit, and was almost sure she had put it back in the little suede case in which she kept her jewels and trinkets, and which always lay, unlocked, in the top left-hand drawer of her dressing table; but in the case the ring certainly was not.
Her room, and the whole house, was searched, and searched again and again; for, apart from the ring’s value, Lina had a strong sense of possession, and the mere feeling of loss in itself distressed her. However, no sign was ever found of it.
Johnnie was most sympathetic and pointed out with evident glee that, on his own recommendation, all Lina’s jewels had been insured for their full value, only six months or so ago; she would therefore suffer no monetary loss. He helped her make out the claim to the insurance company, and the money duly arrived.
Johnnie was rather urgent that she should lend it to him, for some scheme of his which he assured her would be of immense profit to both of them but about whose details he was a little vague when pressed; but Lina, who could be very obstinate where her own money was concerned, distrusted such nebulousness and bought another and more modern ring.
She remained, however, not a little uneasy about the way in which her old ring had disappeared; and since it boiled down to the fact that nobody but Ella, the house-parlourmaid, could possibly have stolen it if it had been stolen at all, she played for safety by getting rid of Ella. She was the more ready to do so, as she had noticed that the girl had been getting a little pert with her of late, and seemed to resent the very mild and almost smiling reprimands which were all that Lina ever dealt out to her maids.
“I can’t understand what’s happened to her,” Lina complained to Johnnie when they talked it over. “She used to be so good-natured. I suppose really she’s too pretty. She must have had her head turned by some man in the village. Whether she took my ring or not, it’s quite time she did go.”
And Johnnie agreed that it was quite time Ella did go.
So Ella went; and very soon was as completely forgotten as the loss of the ring for which she came to be held responsible.
CHAPTER V
One of the incidents in her married life which Lina always remembered afterwards was the first visit of Mr. Thwaite.
“Mr. Thwaite,” announced Ethel, the new parlourmaid, and left it at that.
Mr. Thwaite was very tall. His nose was large and curved, and his hair sat in little tight curls round his head.
“Hullo,” said Mr. Thwaite loudly. “Hullo, hullo. What?” Mr. Thwaite seemed to think that he had now explained himself.
“Hullo,” said Lina, trying not to laugh and feeling that her visitor must have escaped from the pages of Mr. P. G. Wodehouse.
“So you’re old Johnnie’s wife?” accused Mr. Thwaite, shaking hands.
“I am, yes.”
“Poor old bird, what?” said Mr. Thwaite surprisingly, and then laughed with much amusement. “Didn’t mean that. Putting my foot in it as usual, what? I mean – well, how is the old bean?”
Lina rang for tea and with some difficulty induced her visitor to seat himself. She replied that Johnnie’s health was excellent. He was not in at the moment, but she expected him back for tea.
“Still mugging it in that estate office, eh? Hates it as much as ever, I suppose. What?”
“Yes, he still
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