Nothing to Report by Carola Oman

Author:Carola Oman
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2019-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VIII

JUNE 13TH

(i)

Miss Morrison sat at her desk in the parlour at Willows, opening letters. The hour was nine-thirty, and the day Tuesday, June 13th. She had already sucked the honey of her morning’s post. The envelopes which remained unopened were both of oblong shape and flimsy texture. “Old Wookey and Millie Burst,” she decided. “I suppose that, as usual, he’s found something and she’s lost something.”

The sheet at which she was soon staring showed at a glance that her old friend Mr. Wookey was an original character. Its heading announced in Gothic capitals, “WILLIAM WOOKEY, Dealer In Antiques.” Down the margin Mr. Wookey advertised some unusual amenities. “Taxis for Weddings,” read Mary. “Outside Effects,” “Perambulators.” Dismissing speculations as to what “Outside Effects” might include, she applied herself to the manuscript portion of the letter, which was brief.

“Miss Morrison, Dear Madam,” she read. “Hoping you will excuse the liberty, I have something nice which I would like you to see next time you are in, if you could spare the time, before any other lady. Yours respectfully, W. Wookey.”

“Old fox!” commented Mary. “He doesn’t throw out the least hint. Last time it was the weathercock off Slapham Church tower, weighing half a ton. However, I did get that spinet dressing-table from him, and the Chinese work-box I gave to the Yarrows as a wedding present.”

The telephone rang. Lady Rollo was just leaving Crossgrove for Ascot.

“Look here, Button,” she said, “you needn’t answer now, but do turn over in your mind the possibility of coming with us one day. Elizabeth and I are going every day, but Tim has struck.”

Mary said, “My dear! Impossible. I haven’t been to Ascot for ten years at least. I haven’t got any clothes. I haven’t got an Enclosure Badge. Thursday’s my only free day this week, and that’s the Gold Cup.”

“You’ve got the green you wore to the Merles’ sherry party,” said Catha, “and if you’re only going one day it would hardly be worth your while having an Enclosure Badge, anyway. We shall be lunching in Tim’s club tent. It would be the greatest kindness to me if you would come on Thursday.”

“But,” objected Mary, “everyone will be trailing about in lace dresses and picture hats.”

“Nobody,” said Catha decidedly, “will be trailing at all, on any day. I’ve got a short black with a pattern of spilt playing cards and a cap made of bits of silver fox to match my cape. That’s what I shall be wearing on Thursday, even if we get a heat-wave, which doesn’t seem at all likely. Come on, Button. Never say die. Crispin is driving us, and will get your badge when he gets his own at the gate of the Paddock. All you have to do is to be at Crossgrove by ten sharp, on Thursday. That’s all settled, then. Splendid.”

“It does make a difference having the Rollos at Crossgrove,” meditated Mary, tapping her teeth with her pencil as she stared absently at the oval needlework picture above her desk.

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