The Garden Party and Other Stories

the way for her flight — Mrs. Raddick’s daughter might have just dropped from this radiant heaven. Mrs. Raddick’s timid, faintly astonished, but deeply admi

en had been full of casinos with snuffy old

ll have tea and we’ll be back here on this step — right here — in an hour. You see, I want he

me along. Don’t talk so much. And your bag’s

arling,” said

,” said the impatient voice. “It’s al

dred!” I saw Mrs. Raddick pressing notes into

minute, watching the people. He

n English bulldog. Are they a

hey’re

nd they’re never fierce with their — the people they belong to.” Suddenly he squeezed my arm.

thers, jerked slowly, slowly up the steps as though she were being drawn up on wires. She stared in front of her,

. Mrs. Raddick rushed at me. She was brightly flushed, gay, a different creature. She was like a woman who is

ling her foot on the step, miles away. “They won’t let her in. I swore she was twenty-one. But they won’t believe me. I showed the man my purse; I didn’t dare to do more. But it was no use. He simply scoffed . .

“What utter rot! How dare you make a scene like this? This is the last time I’ll come out with you. You

rate. She was “wild” to go back with M

uld you — do you care to

wanted, isn’t it, darling? Mrs. MacEwen . . . I’ll

he steps. I saw her

, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark coat round her — to escape contaminat

orry,” I murmured

would — if they were seventeen! It’s”— and she gave a faint shudder

ck look and then peer

ink-and-white marble with orange-trees o

re to go in?”

resigned herself. “Oh well, there seems n

st of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. T

carnations and pink plates with l

we si

rily on the back of

ell. Why not

ut of it. She didn’t even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed o

ared to ask her. “Tea — coffee? C

same to her. She didn’t really want a

she cried out carelessly, “Oh, you ma

x with a mirror in the lid, shook the poor little puf

tions, and I heard her murmur, “I can’t bear flowers on a table.” They had evidently

ed, with, for one dreadful moment, a little trembling blob of cream on the tip. But he hastily wiped it off like a little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare

ly sweet!

y of pastries — row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melt

chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh s

ive me one,

artlet. “I don’t know why you’re giving me all these,” sh

if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened her eyes

flew in two, and one half spilled on the table. Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his e

little beas

o the rescue. I cried hastil

was forgotten, too. She was trying to re

she said slowly,

fer it to London.

ame back and looked at me

” I cried, wavi

der. Even then, “Oh well, that depe

ished. He was

about an ice, Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger?

s had her eye on us. The order was ta

And then quickly, “I wish that orchestra wouldn’t play things from the

air. Now that I noti

er a nice place, don’

to say it very low, but it came o

her lovely eyes wondered. A very good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black ribbo

r diamond wrist-watch; it got in her way. She tugged at it — tried to break the stupid little thing — it wouldn’t break. Finally, she had to drag her glove over. I

ith small stars; the big lamps glowed. While we waited for the car to come

the door and she got in and san

asped, “to drive

. “Allie veet!” said he. Then he composed

little puff was shaken; again there was that swif

issors tearing through brocade. Hennie had great difficul

e Mrs. Raddick wasn’t there. There wasn’

in the car whil

s, no! Hennie could stay. She couldn’t bea

you,” I murmured. “I’d very mu

iting.” And suddenly her cheeks crimsoned, her eyes grew dark — for a moment I thought she was going to cry. “L— let me, please,” she

l her soft young body in the blue dress — was like