Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) by Susan Barrie Page A

she sat down, which surprised her a little, for he was indisputably Sir John ’ s dog and was very sparing with his favors in any other direction.
    When Sir John emerged from the main doorway of the house he was dressed very suitably in well-cut country tweeds, and he was accompanied by Lynette Harling. Lucy was surprised by the sight of Miss Harling, and a good deal of her pleasure in the prospect of a reasonably long drive vanished on the instant. Lynette was looking sulky, as if something had upset her, and she did not even glance at Lucy as she climbed into the car. Sir John ordered Jennings to vacate the seat behind the wheel, and explained that this was one of the occasions when he preferred to drive himself.
    He got in beside Lynette, and she stared at the front of the house with an inscrutable expression on her beautifully made-up face.
    The drive into Ba rn chester would have been most unpleasant if Lucy had not been aware of a certain tension in the car, and she could not but admire the expert method in which Sir John handled the impressive Bentley. If anything, he was a better driver than Jennings, and Jennings had survived a period of twenty years or more in the service of the first, and then the second Sir John Ash.
    Sir John dropped Lucy in the market square when they reached it, and he gave her a very friendly smile before he drove off, after promising to pick her up in the same spot in a couple of hours ’ time. Lynette accorded her the briefest of unsmiling nods.
    Lucy found that two hours was not a great deal of time in which to execute several errands for Mrs. Abbott and do her own shopping, and then have a cup of tea before allowing herself to be picked up by the big Bentley again. And Ba rn chester was a delightful old-world town, full of carefully preserved half-timbered buildings, including a really ancient inn, some enticing antique shops and some alluring little places where tea was dispensed in an atmosphere of mellow oak and gleaming brassware. Lucy was trying to make up her mind whether the Copper Kettle was really more attractive than Priscilla ’ s Parlor, and was just about to enter the Copper Kettle, when Sir John went past at cruising speed, and instantly slowed the car.
    “ If you ’ re thinking about tea, Miss Nolan, you ’ d better come along with us, ” he suggested, putting his head out of the window on his side. “ We ’ re going to the George, where they serve tea as well as lunches. ” He put a hand behind him to open the rear door for her. “ Hop in! This isn ’ t a parking place, so we mustn ’ t ignore the regulations. ”
    “ Oh, thank you! ” Lucy exclaimed, as she subsided a little breathlessly on the backseat of the car. With Miss Harling ’ s superb features very noticeably averted from her, and the feeling that Sir John had issued his invitation purely as a result of excessive politeness, she was not at all sure whether she wouldn ’ t have much more enjoyed tea by herself at the Copper Kettle.
    Lucy never forgot that tea or the embarrassing conditions that prevailed at it. To begin with it was not a good tea, although the service was excellent, and Lynette quite flatly declined to pour, delegating that duty to Lucy. Lucy felt Sir John ’ s eyes were on her as she manipulated the teapot, and made inquiries about milk and sugar—Lynette insisted on a slice of lemon being produced by the waiter, and looked almost with abhorrence at the jug of cream—and her hands were inclined to fumble a little. But Sir John kept up a steady flow of conversation, and beneath her seat Lucy felt Muffin occasionally touch her leg with a silken paw, plainly asking for a tidbit.
    Lucy looked across at the dog ’ s owner, asking permission to answer the silent pleas with a fragment of hot buttered scone or a piece of cake, and he nodded, a glimmer of an understanding smile in his eyes.
    “ Oh, yes, ” he said, “ you can let him have a few scraps. I ’ m afraid Muffin has a