More than that, Alice had seen the people of the house, whom she described as an old gentleman and a lady, presumably his wife. She had not clearly made out the gentleman, who was sitting in the porch, but the old lady, who had been in the garden busy with her flowers, had looked up and smiled pleasantly at her as she passed. She was sure, she said, that they were nice people and that it would be pleasant to make their acquaintance.
Maggie was not quite satisfied with Alice’s story. She was of a more prudent and retiring nature than her sister; she had an uneasy feeling that, if the old couple had been desirable or attractive neighbours, Mr. Roberts would have mentioned them, and knowing Alice’s nature she said what she could to discourage her vague idea of endeavouring to make acquaintance with the owners of the red brick house.
On the following morning, when Alice came to her sister’s room to inquire how she did, Maggie noticed that she looked pale and rather absent-minded, and, after a few commonplace remarks had passed, she asked:
“What is the matter, Alice? You don’t look yourself this morning.” Her sister gave a slightly embarrassed laugh.
“Oh, I am all right,” she replied, “only I did not sleep very well. I kept on dreaming about the house. It was such an odd dream too; the house seemed to be home, and yet to be different.”
“What, that house in Brickett Bottom?” said Maggie. “Why, what is the matter with you, you seem to be quite crazy about the place?”
“Well, it is curious, isn’t it, Maggie, that we should have only just discovered it, and that it looks to be lived in by nice people? I wish we could get to know them.”
Maggie did not care to resume the argument of the night before and the subject dropped, nor did Alice again refer to the house or its inhabitants for some little time. In fact, for some days the weather was wet and Alice was forced to abandon her walks, but when the weather once more became fine she resumed them, and Maggie suspected that Brickett Bottom formed one of her sister’s favourite expeditions. Maggie became anxious over her sister, who seemed to grow daily more absent-minded and silent, but she refused to be drawn into any confidential talk, and Maggie was nonplussed.
One day, however, Alice returned from her afternoon walk in an unusually excited state of mind, of which Maggie sought an explanation. It came with a rush. Alice said that, that afternoon, as she approached the house in Brickett Bottom, the old lady, who as usual was busy in her garden, had walked down to the gate as she passed and had wished her good day.
Alice had replied and, pausing, a short conversation had followed. Alice could not remember the exact tenor of it, but, after she had paid a compliment to the old lady’s flowers, the latter had rather diffidently asked her to enter the garden for a closer view. Alice had hesitated, and the old lady had said “Don’t be afraid of me, my dear, I like to see young ladies about me and my husband finds their society quite necessary to him.” After a pause she went on: “Of course nobody has told you about us. My husband is Colonel Paxton, late of the Indian Army, and we have been here for many, many years. It’s rather lonely, for so few people ever see us. Do come in and meet the Colonel.”
“I hope you didn’t go in,” said Maggie rather sharply.
“Why not?” replied Alice.
“Well, I don’t like Mrs. Paxton asking you in that way,” answered Maggie. “I don’t see what harm there was in the invitation,” said Alice.
“I didn’t go in because it was getting late and I was anxious to get home; but—”
“But what?” asked Maggie.
Alice shrugged her shoulders. “Well,” she said, “I have accepted Mrs. Paxton’s invitation to pay her a little visit to-morrow.” And she gazed defiantly at Maggie.
Maggie became distinctly uneasy on hearing of this resolution. She did not like the idea of her impulsive sister visiting people on such slight acquaintance, especially as they had never heard them mentioned before. She endeavoured by all means, short of appealing to Mr. Maydew, to dissuade her sister from going, at any rate until there had been time to make some inquiries as to the Paxtons. Alice, however, was obdurate.
What harm could happen to her? she asked. Mrs. Paxton was a charming old lady. She was going early in the afternoon for a short visit. She would be back for tea and croquet with her father and, anyway, now that Maggie was laid up, long solitary walks were unendurable and she was not going to let slip the chance of following up what promised to be a pleasant acquaintance.
Maggie could do nothing more. Her ankle was better and she was able to get down to the garden and sit in a long chair near her father, but walking was still quite out of the question, and it was with some misgivings that on the following day she watched Alice depart gaily for her visit, promising to be back by half-past four at the very latest.
The afternoon passed quietly till nearly five, when Mr. Maydew, looking up from his book, noticed Maggie’s uneasy expression and asked:
“Where is Alice?”
“Out for a walk,” replied Maggie; and then after a short pause she went on: “And she has also gone to pay a call on some neighbours whom she has recently discovered.”
“Neighbours,” ejaculated Mr. Maydew, “what neighbours? Mr. Roberts never spoke of any neighbours to me.”
“Well, I don’t know much about them,” answered Maggie. “Only Alice and I were out walking the day of my accident and saw or at least she saw, for I am so blind I could not quite make it out, a house in Brickett Bottom. The next day she went to look at it closer, and yesterday she told me that she had made the acquaintance of the people living in it. She says that they are a retired Indian officer and his wife, a Colonel and Mrs. Paxton, and Alice describes Mrs. Paxton as a charming old lady, who pressed her to come and see them. So she has gone this afternoon, but she promised me she would be back long before this.”
Mr. Maydew was silent for a moment and then said:
“I am not well pleased about this. Alice should not be so impulsive and scrape acquaintance with absolutely unknown people. Had there been nice neighbours in Brickett Bottom, I am certain Mr. Roberts would have told us.”
The conversation dropped; but both father and daughter were disturbed and uneasy and, tea having been finished and the clock striking half-past five, Mr. Maydew asked Maggie:
“When did you say Alice would be back?”
“Before half-past four at the latest, father.”
“Well, what can she be doing? What can have delayed her? You say you did not see the house,” he went on.
“No,” said Maggie, “I cannot say I did. It was getting dark and you know how short-sighted I am.”
“But surely you must have seen it at some other time,” said her father.
“That is the strangest part of the whole affair,” answered Maggie. “We have often walked up the Bottom, but I never noticed the house, nor had Alice till that evening. I wonder,” she went on after a short pause, “if it would not be well to ask Smith to harness the pony and drive over to bring her back. I am not happy about her—I am afraid—”
“Afraid of what?” said her father in the irritated voice of a man who is growing frightened. “What can have gone wrong in this quiet place? Still, I’ll send Smith over for her.”
So saying he rose from his chair and sought out Smith, the rather dull-witted gardener- groom attached to Mr. Roberts’ service.
“Smith,” he said, “I want you to harness the pony at once and go over to Colonel Paxton’s in Brickett Bottom and bring Miss Maydew home.”
The man stared at him.
“Go where, sir?” he said.
Mr. Maydew repeated the order and the man, still staring stupidly, answered: “I never heard of Colonel Paxton, sir. I don’t know what house you mean.” Mr. Maydew was now growing really anxious.