E F Benson

Queen Lucia E F Benson

As she traversed the smoking-parlour the cheerful sounds that had once tinkled from the collar of aFlemish horse chimed through the house, and simultaneously she became aware that there would bemacaroni au gratin for lunch, which was very dear and remembering of Peppino. But before settingfork to her piled-up plate, she had to question him, for her mental craving for information was farkeener than her appetite for food."Caro, who is an Indian," she said, "whom I saw just now with Daisy Quantock? They were theother side of il piccolo Avon."Peppino had already begun his macaroni and must pause to shovel the outlying strings of it into hismouth. But the haste with which he did so was sufficient guaranty for his eagerness to reply as soonas it was humanly possible to do so."Indian, my dear?" he asked with the greatest interest."Yes; turban and burnous and calves and slippers," she said rather impatiently, for what was thegood of Peppino having remained in Riseholme if he could not give her precise and certaininformation on local news when she returned. His prose-poems were all very well, but as princeconsort he had other duties of state which must not be neglected for the calls of Art. This slight asperity on her part seemed to sharpen his wits."Really, I don't know for certain, Lucia," he said, "for I have not set my eyes on him. But puttingtwo and two together, I might make a guess.""Two and two make four," she said with that irony for which she was feared and famous. "Now foryour guess. I hope it is equally accurate.""Well, as I told you in one of my letters," said he, "Mrs Quantock showed signs of being a little offwith Christian Science. She had a cold, and though she recited the True Statement of Being just asfrequently as before, her cold got no better. But when I saw her on Tuesday last, unless it wasWednesday, no, it couldn't have been Wednesday, so it must have been Tuesday-"