"Yes?" she said. "Then we will have a great talk about it, when you
come to see me the day after tomorrow. But I know I shall find you hard
to convince."
She kissed the tips of her fingers in a manner so hopelessly final that
there was nothing to do but go away.
Then with poor generalship, Lucia altered her tactics, and went up to
the Village Green where Piggy was telling Georgie about the script
signed Annabel. This was repeated again for Lucia's benefit.
"Wasn't it too lovely?" said Piggy. "So Annabel's my guide, and she
writes a hand quite unlike mine."
Lucia gave a little scream, and put her fingers to her ears.
"Gracious me!" she said. "What has come over Riseholme? Wherever I go I
hear nothing but talk of seances, and spirits, and automatic writing.
Such a pack of nonsense, my dear Piggy. I wonder at a sensible girl
like you."
Mrs Weston, propelled by the Colonel, whirled up in her bath-chair.
"'The Palmist's Manual' is too wonderful," she said, "and Jacob and I
sat up over it till I don't know what hour. There's a break in his line
of life, just at the right place, when he was so ill in Egypt, which is
most remarkable, and when Tommy Luton brought round my bath-chair this
morning--I had it at the garden-door, because the gravel's just laid at
my front-door, and the wheels sink so far into it--'Tommy,' I said,
'let me look at your hand a moment,' and there on his line of fate, was
the little cross that means bereavement.
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