“She travelled by the night mail and was rather dishevelled when she arrived, hair a bit tousled, a smut on the end of her nose and a general look of crinklyness about her clothes. Hilda has been in floods of tears and sobbing like a steam engine all morning.” “I don’t wonder at all. Any nice-minded girl would. It can’t be pleasant for her to see her mother in such a state.” “Don’t drivel,” said Lalage. “Hilda isn’t crying for that. She’s not a perfect idiot, whatever you may say.” “I didn’t say anything of the sort. I said she was a nice-minded girl.” “Same thing,” said Lalage, “and she’s not either the one or the other.” “Then why is she crying?” “Because her mother is taking her home. That’s the reason I’m going for Pussy Battersby.” “She’ll be a poor substitute for Hilda,” I said. “She’ll boggle at simony every time.” “What are you talking about now?” “Miss Battersby. I’m trying to explain that she’ll hardly be able to take Hilda’s place as the companion of your revels.” “What I’m getting her for,” said Lalage severely, “is to restore the confidence of Hilda’s mother. She doesn’t trust me one bit, silly of her, isn’t it? And she’s ragged poor father into a condition of incoherence.” “Will Miss Battersby be any use? I should hardly have thought her the sort of person who would deal successfully with a frantic mother.” “She’s tremendously respectable,” said Lalage, “and Hilda’s mother will have absolute confidence in her the moment she sees her. Remember how she agreed to that Portugal trip once she knew Pussy was to be with us, and she hadn’t even seen her then. When I trot her out there’ll be absolutely no further trouble. Good-bye, I must be darting on.” Lalage put her foot on the pedal and balanced the bicycle. I stopped her again. “You said something about my going to the rectory,” I said. “What am I to do when I get there?” “Attend to Hilda’s mother of course.” “Do you mean that I’m to take a basin of hot water and a sponge and wash her nose? I couldn’t possibly. I don’t know her nearly well enough. I’d hardly venture to do such a thing to Hilda herself.” “I wasn’t thinking of the smut on her nose,” said Lalage. “What I want you to do is to keep her in play till I get back. I sha’n’t be long, but it’s not possible to start Pussy Battersby off on the first hop. She’ll want to titivate a little.” “If you think I’ll be any use----” “Of course you will. You’re very nearly as respectable to look at as Pussy Battersby.” “I shall hate to see Hilda crying.” “Then cheer her up. Good-bye for the present.” This time Lalage really did mount the bicycle. I drove on in the direction of the rectory, turning over in my mind various plans for keeping Hilda’s mother in play. Some of them were very good plans which I think would have been successful, but I shall never be certain about that because I did not have the chance of putting them to the test.