Lavender Lady by Carola Dunn

been for the tea tray; after an afternoon of architecture and ancient history, surely that was the most desirable sight a man could see.
    Hester splashed some cold water on her face and peered at herself in the tiny square mirror nailed above the scullery sink. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen. Hastily, she chopped and fried an onion, causing new tears, added a piece of mutton and some carrots and parsnips, a bunch of parsley and a pint of stock, and set it on the fire. Then she took a pot of strawberry jam and went back to the parlour, which was by now pleasantly redolent of singed toast.
    “Geoff!” she said gaily, carefully not looking at Mr. Fairfax, “I vow I don’t know what you do with your onions! They are the hottest I have ever cut up and make me weep monstrously!”
    “You will not let me tell in public what I do with them,” answered Geoff indulgently.
    Susan, noting Mr. Fairfax’s puzzled look, leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Manure!”
    Alice disdainfully affected not to hear.
    Hester was soon provided with hot buttered toast and a cup of tea. She found she had interrupted a disquisition by Alice on the baby’s finer points, of which he apparently had many. Mr. Fairfax had been heartily bored by the subject for several minutes, but seeing that Hester did not look well and seemed disinclined for conversation, he encouraged her sister. Hester read this as yet another confirmation of love. She was gazing despondently out of the French windows at Geoff’s dismal, dripping garden when Robbie appeared with his coat in a dark-stained bundle in his arms and blood streaking down his legs.
    Hester jumped up and threw open the door.
    “Robbie!” she cried. “Are you badly hurt?”
    “It’s not me,” he replied in a shaky voice. His face was smeared with mud where he had apparently rubbed his eyes. He thrust the bundle at his sister. “Look!”
    Hester cautiously unwrapped the ruined jacket as the others crowded round. She flinched.
    “Alice, Susan, don’t look,” she said quickly. “Geoff, come with me into the kitchen, please. We’ll do what we can, Rob dear.” She dropped a kiss on his wet head.
    “It’s a rabbit,” he explained importantly, his sangfroid restored now that his sister had taken over. “I was down in Mr. Jenkins’s field and I heard it crying.” He shivered with remembered horror. “It was right by the hedge and its foot was in one of those wire loops and I was trying to get it out, but it was scared and it kept pulling and the wire got tighter and tighter and I didn’t know what to do. There was blood all over.”
    Alice shrieked and fled, leaving baby John on Mr. Fairfax’s lap, where she had put him to demonstrate how sweetly he behaved.
    “There still is blood all over,” pointed out James. “You’d better go change and wash, Rob. Well done, young ‘un.”
    “I’ll rinse your clothes out,” offered Susan. “Blood stains if you don’t do it right away, Ivy says.”
    “Beat you upstairs!” cried Robbie, and they dashed out.
    “James,” said Mr. Fairfax in an ominous voice, “would you kindly remove this infant, at once if not sooner. Though I rather fear it is too late.”
    Little John’s removal revealed a large damp patch. James shouted with laughter and the baby wailed, while Mr. Fairfax sighed in resignation.
    “You had best give the child to one sister and my shirt to another,” he suggested, “if you can restrain your mirth sufficiently. And I should like a clean shirt before the third sister returns. I do not think I am unreasonably demanding?”
    “N-no, sir,” spluttered Jamie. “I do beg your pardon; you must be most uncomfortable, only your face . . .! I’ll go at once.”
    Hester was the first to return. Her face was very pale, and in his concern Mr. Fairfax forgot to feel embarrassed at his dishabille . She did not seem to notice his lack of a shirt and smiled tiredly at him. “I think the poor thing will survive. I daresay