“Hello,” said Mr. Twist, staring at her.

Anna-Felicitas looked at her quickly.

“It’s merely bliss,” she said, taking the corner of her beautiful new muslin apron to Christopher’s eyes.  “Excess of it.  We are, you know,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Mr. Twist, so that the corner of her apron, being undirected, began dabbing at Christopher’s perfectly tearless ears, “quite extraordinarily happy, and all through you.  Nevertheless Anna-R.” she continued, addressing her with firmness while she finished her eyes and began her nose, “You may like to be reminded that there’s only ten minutes left now before all those cars that were here yesterday come again, and you wouldn’t wish to embark on your career as a waitress hampered by an ugly face, would you?”

But half an hour later no cars had come.  Pepper Lane was still empty.  The long shadows lay across it in a beautiful quiet, and the crickets in the grass chirruped undisturbed.  Twice sounds were heard as if something was coming up it, and everybody flew to their posts—­Li Koo to the boiling water, Mrs. Bilton to her raised desk at the end of the room, and the twins to the door—­but the sounds passed on along the road and died away round the next corner.

At half-past four the personnel of The Open Arms was sitting about silently in a state of increasing uneasiness, when Mr. Ridding walked in.

There had been no noise of a car to announce him; he just walked in mopping his forehead, for he had come in the jitney omnibus to the nearest point and had done the last mile on his own out-of-condition feet.  Mrs. Ridding thought he was writing letters in the smoking-room.  She herself was in a big chair on the verandah, and with Miss Heap and most of the other guests was discussing The Open Arms in all its probable significance.  He hadn’t been able to get away sooner because of the nap.  He had gone through with the nap from start to finish so as not to rouse suspicion.  He arrived very hot, but with a feeling of dare-devil running of risks that gave him great satisfaction.  He knew that he would cool down again presently and that then the consequences of his behaviour would be unpleasant to reflect upon, but meanwhile his blood was up.

He walked in feeling not a day older than thirty,—­most gratifying sensation.  The personnel, after a moment’s open-mouthed surprise, rushed to greet him.  Never was a man more welcome.  Never had Mr. Ridding been so warmly welcomed anywhere in his life.

“Now isn’t this real homey,” he said, beaming at Anna-Rose who took his stick.  “Wish I’d known you were going to do it, for then I’d have had something to look forward to.”

“Will you have tea or coffee?” asked Anna-Felicitas, trying to look very solemn and like a family butler but her voice quivering with eagerness.  “Or perhaps you would prefer frothed chocolate?  Each of these beverages can be provided either hot or iced—­”