Scrub
was written all over "the desert's dusty face."
It was about half-past six when the miracles began, and without warning
the Guru walked out into the garden. Probably he had watched the
departure of the great motor with its chauffeur and footman, and Miss
Lyall and Lady Ambermere and Pug, and with his intuitive sagacity had
conjectured that the danger from Madras was over. He wore his new red
slippers, a wonderful turban and an ecstatic smile. Lucia and Daisy met
him with cries of joy, and the remaining guests, those drifting autumn
leaves, were swept up, as it were, by some compelling broom and
clustered in a heap in front of him. There had been a Great Message, a
Word of Might, full of Love and Peace. Never had there been such a
Word....
And then, even before they had all felt the full thrill of that, once
more the door from the house opened, and out came Olga Bracely and
Georgie. It is true that she had still her blue morning frock, which
Mrs Weston had designated as Scrub, but it was a perfectly new Scrub,
and if it had been completely covered with Paris labels, they would not
have made its _provenance_ one whit clearer. "Dear Mrs Lucas," she
said, "Mr Georgie and I are terribly late, and it was quite my fault.
There was a game of croquet that wouldn't come to an end, and my life
has been guided by only one principle, and that is to finish a game of
croquet whatever happens.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156