and intercepted Simon.
"Did you know there's a picture here with a look of you?" she told him, and put her arm through his and marched him along the gallery.
"Oh, I noticed that," I said. Rose and Neil and I walked after them, which I bet didn't please Mrs. FC.
at all.
It was one of the earliest pictures -Elizabethan, I think; there was a small white ruff at the top of the man's high collar. It was just a
head and shoulders against a dark background.
"It's probably only the beard that's like," said Simon.
"No, the eyes," said Mrs. Fox-Cotton.
"The eyebrows mostly," I said, "the little twist at the corners. And the hair the way it grows on the forehead, in a peak."
Rose was staring hard at the picture. Simon asked her what she
thought. She turned and looked at him intently; she seemed to be
taking in his features one by one. Yet when she finally answered she
only said: "Oh, a little like, perhaps," rather vaguely.
I had a feeling that she had been thinking about something quite
different from the picture, something to do with Simon himself; and had come back from a very long way, to find us all waiting for her
answer.
We strolled back to the others. Topaz and Aubrey Fox-Cotton were
looking at pictures too; they were with the eighteenth-century
Cottons.
"I've got it," he said suddenly to Topaz, "you're really a Blake. Isn't she, Leda ?"
Mrs. F-C. seemed to take a mild interest in this. She gave Topaz a
long, appraising stare and said: "Yes, if she had more flesh on her bones."
"Rose is a Romney," said Simon.
"She's quite a bit like Lady Hamilton." It was the first time I had heard him use her Christian name.
"And Cassandra's a Reynolds, of course the little girl with the
mousetrap."
"I'm not!" I said indignantly.
"I hate that picture. The mouse is terrified, the cat's hungry and the girl's a cruel little beast. I refuse to be her."
"Ah, but you'd let the mouse out of the trap and find a nice dead sardine for the cat," said Simon. I began to like him a little
better.
The others were busy thinking of a painter for Mrs. Fox-Cotton.
They finally decided on a Surrealist named Dali.
"With snakes coming out of her ears," said Mr. Fox-Cotton. I haven't the faintest idea what Surrealism is, but I can easily imagine snakes in Mrs. F-C's ears-and I certainly shouldn't blame them for coming
out.
After that, it was decided that we should dance.
"In the hall," said Neil, "because the Victrola's down there." Mrs.
Cotton and Father and the Vicar stayed behind talking.
"We shall be one man short," complained Mrs.
Fox-Cotton as we went downstairs.
I said I would watch as I don't know modern dances. (neither does
Rose, really, but she did try them once or twice at Aunt Millicent's
parties.) "What kind do you know ?" asked Simon, teasingly.
"Sarabandes, cour antes and pa vanes ?"
I told him just waltzes and polkas.
Mother showed us those when we were little.
"I'll teach you," said Neil. He put a record on the gramophone- I had expected a Victrola to be something much more exciting- and then came back to me, but I said I'd rather watch for the first few dances.
"Oh, come on, Cassandra," he said, but Mrs.
Fox-Cotton butted in.
"Let the child watch if she wants to. Dance this with me." I settled it by running up the stairs.
I sat on the top step looking down on them.
Rose danced with Simon, Topaz with Mr. Fox-Cotton. I must say Mrs.
Fox-Cotton danced beautifully, though she seemed almost to be lying on Neil's chest. Rose's dress looked lovely but she kept on missing
steps. Topaz was holding herself stiff as a poker--she thinks modern
dancing is vulgar--but Mr. Fox-Cotton danced so well that she
gradually relaxed. It was fascinating watching them all from up there.
The hall was very dimly lit, the oak floor looked dark as water by
night.
I noticed the mysterious old-house smell again but mixed with Mrs.
Fox-Cotton's scent--a rich, mysterious scent, not a bit like flowers.
I leaned against the carved banisters and listened to the music and
felt quite different from any way I have ever felt before -softer, very beautiful and as if a great many men were in love with me and I might very easily be in love with them. I had the most curious feeling in my solar plexus--a vulnerable feeling is the nearest I can get to it; I
was investigating it in a pleasant, hazy sort of way, staring down at a big bowl of white tulips against the uncurtained great window, when all of a sudden I went quite cold with shock.
There were two faces floating in the black glass of the window.
The next instant they were gone. I strained my eyes to see them again.
The dancers kept passing the window, hiding it from me.
Suddenly the faces were back, but grown fainter.
They grew clear again- and just then the record finished. The dancers stopped, the faces vanished.
Aubrey Fox-Cotton shouted: "Did you see that, Simon? Two of the
villagers staring in again."
"That's the worst of a right-of-way so close to the house," Simon explained to Rose.
"Oh, hell, what does it matter?" said Neil.
"Let them watch if they want to."
"But it startled Mother badly the other night. I think I'll just ask them not to, if I can catch them."
Simon went to the door and opened it. I ran full tilt down the stairs, and across to him. There was a light above the door which made
everything seem pitch black beyond.
"Don't catch them," I whispered.
He smiled down at me in astonishment.
"Good heavens, I'm not going to hurt them." He went down the steps and shouted: "Anyone there ?"
There was a stifled laugh quite close.
"They're behind the cedar," said Simon and started to walk towards it.
I was praying they would bolt but no sound of it came.
I grabbed Simon's arm and whispered: "Please come back--please say you couldn't find them. It's Thomas and Stephen."
Simon let out a snort of laughter.
"They must have cycled over," I said.
"Please don't be annoyed.
It's just that they hankered to see the fun."
He called out: "Thomas, Stephen- where are you his Come in and talk to us."
They didn't answer. We walked towards the cedar.
Suddenly they made a dash for it--and Thomas promptly tripped over
something and fell full length. I called: "Come on, both of you-it's perfectly all right," Simon went to help Thomas up-I knew he wasn't hurt because he was laughing so much. My eyes were used to the
darkness by then and I could see Stephen some yards away; he had
stopped but he wasn't coming towards us. I went over and took him by
the hand.
"I'm so dreadfully sorry," he whispered.
"I
know it was a terrible thing to do."
"Nonsense," I said.
"Nobody minds a bit."
His hand was quite damp. I was sure he was feeling awful.
The others had heard the shouts and come to the door.
Neil came running out to us with a torch.
"What, my old friend Stephen?" he cried.
"Are there any bears abroad tonight?"
"I don't want to come in--please!" Stephen whispered to me. But Neil and I took an arm each and made him.
Thomas wasn't minding at all--he kept choking with laughter.
"We had a squint at you at dinner," he said, "and then you all disappeared.
We were just about to go home in despair when you came downstairs."
Once I saw Stephen clearly, in the hall, I was sorry I had made him
come in- he was scarlet to his forehead and too shy to speak a word.