her Guru going to tiffin with Lucia, but about the middle of her lunch, she had been unable to resist the desire to know what was happening at The Hurst. She could not bear the thought that Lucia and her Guru were together now, and her own note, saying that it was uncertain whether the Guru would come to the garden party or not filled her with the most uneasy apprehensions. She would sooner have acquiesced in her Guru going to fifty garden-parties, where all was public, and she could keep an eye and a control on him, rather than that Lucia should have “enticed him in,”—that was her phrase—like this to tiffin. The only consolation was that her own lunch had been practically inedible, and Robert had languished lamentably for the Guru to return, and save his stomach. She had left him glowering over a little mud and water called coffee. Robert, at any rate, would welcome the return of the Guru.
She waddled across the lawn to where this harmonious party was sitting, and at that moment Lucia began to feel vindictive. The calm of victory which had permeated her when she brought the Guru in to lunch, without any bother at all, was troubled and broken up, and darling Daisy’s note, containing the outrageous falsity that the Guru would not certainly accept an invitation which had never been permitted to reach him at all, assumed a more sinister aspect. Clearly now Daisy had intended to keep him to herself, a fact that she already suspected and had made a hostile invasion.
“Guru, dear, you naughty thing,” said Mrs Quantock playfully, after the usual salutations had passed, “why did you not tell your Chela you would not be home for tiffin?”
The Guru had unwound his legs, and stood up.
“But see, beloved lady,” he said, “how pleasant we all are! Take not too much thought, when it is only white souls who are together.”
Mrs Quantock patted his shoulder.
“It is all good and kind Om,” she said. “I send out my message of love. There!”
It was necessary to descend from these high altitudes, and Lucia proceeded to do so, as in a parachute that dropped swiftly at first, and then floated in still air.
“And we’re making such a lovely plan, dear Daisy,” she said. “The Guru is going to teach us all. Classes! Aren’t you?”
He held his hands up to his head, palms outwards, and closed his eyes.
“I seem to feel call,” he said. “I am sent. Surely the Guides tell me there is a sending of me. What you call classes? Yes? I teach: you learn. We all learn…. I leave all to you. I will walk a little way off to arbour, and meditate, and then when you have arranged, you will tell Guru, who is your servant. Salaam! Om!”
With the Guru in her own house, and with every intention to annex him, it was no wonder that Lucia took the part of chairman in this meeting that was to settle the details of the esoteric brotherhood that was to be formed in Riseholme. Had not Mrs Quantock been actually present, Lucia in revenge for her outrageous conduct about the garden-party invitation would probably have left her out of the classes altogether, but with her sitting firm and square in a basket chair, that creaked querulously as she moved, she could not be completely ignored. But Lucia took the lead throughout, and suggested straightaway that the smoking-parlour would be the most convenient place to hold the classes in.
“I should not think of invading your house, dear Daisy,” she said, “and here is the smoking-parlour which no one ever sits in, so quiet and peaceful. Yes. Shall we consider that settled, then?”
She turned briskly to Mrs Quantock.
“And now where shall the Guru stay?” she said. “It would be too bad, dear Daisy, if we are all to profit by his classes, that you should have all the trouble and expense of entertaining him, for in your sweet little house he must be a great inconvenience, and I think you said that your husband had given up his dressing room to him.”
Mrs Quantock made a desperate effort to retain her property.
“No inconvenience at all,” she said, “quite the contrary in fact, dear. It is delightful having him, and Robert regards him as a most desirable inmate.”
Lucia pressed her hand feelingly.
“You and your husband are too unselfish,” she said. “Often have I said, ‘Daisy and Mr Robert are the most unselfish people I know.’ Haven’t I, Georgie? But we can’t permit you to be so crowded. Your only spare room, you know, and your husband’s dressing room! Georgie, I know you agree with me; we must not permit dear Daisy to be so unselfish.”
The bird-like eye produced its compelling effect on Georgie. So short a time ago he had indulged in revolutionary ideas, and had contemplated having the Guru and Olga Bracely to dinner, without even asking Lucia: now the faint stirrings of revolt faded like snow in summer. He knew quite well what Lucia’s next proposition would be: he knew, too, that he would agree to it.
“No, that would never do,” he said. “It is simply trespassing on Mrs Quantock’s good-nature, if she is to board and lodge him, while he teaches all of us. I wish I could take him in, but with Hermy and Ursy coming tonight, I have as little room as Mrs Quantock.”
“He shall come here,” said Lucia brightly, as if she had just that moment thought of it. “There are Hamlet and Othello vacant”—all her rooms were named after Shakespearian plays—“and it will not be the least inconvenient. Will it, Peppino? I shall really like having him here. Shall we consider that settled, then?”
Daisy made a perfectly futile effort to send forth a message of love to all quarters of the compass. Bitterly she repented of having ever mentioned her Guru to Lucia: it had never occurred to her that she would annex him like this. While she was cudgelling her brains as to how she could arrest this powerful offensive, Lucia went sublimely on.
“Then there’s the question of what we shall pay him,” she said. “Dear Daisy tells us that he scarcely knows what money is, but I for one could never dream of profiting by his wisdom, if I was to pay nothing for it. The labourer is worthy of his hire, and so I suppose the teacher is. What if we pay him five shillings each a lesson: that will make a pound a lesson. Dear me! I shall be busy this August. Now how many classes shall we ask him to give us? I should say six to begin with, if everybody agrees. One every day for the next week except Sunday. That is what you all wish? Yes? Then shall we consider that settled?”
Mrs Quantock, still impotently rebelling, resorted to the most dire weapon in her armoury, namely, sarcasm.
“Perhaps, darling Lucia,” she said, “it would be well to ask my Guru if he has anything to say to your settlings. England is a free country still, even if you happen to have come from India.”
Lucia had a deadlier weapon than sarcasm, which was the apparent unconsciousness of there having been any. For it is no use plunging a dagger into your enemy’s heart, if it produces no effect whatever on him. She clapped her hands together, and gave her peal of silvery laughter.
“What a good idea!” she said. “Then you would like me to go and tell him what we propose? Just as you like. I will trot away, shall I, and see if he agrees. Don’t think of stirring, dear Daisy, I know how you feel the heat. Sit quiet in the shade. As you know, I am a real salamander, the sun is never troppo caldo for me.”
She tripped off to where the Guru was sitting in that wonderful position. She had read the article in the encyclopaedia about Yoga right through again this morning, and had quite made up her mind, as indeed her proceedings had just shown, that Yoga was, to put it irreverently, to be her August stunt. He was still so deep in meditation that he could only look dreamily in her direction as she
