Eustace and Hilda by L.P. Hartley Read Free Book Online Page B

Craddock?”
    â€œYes, often.”
    Naturally he would. To the Steptoes, a picnic was nothing unusual: they probably had one every day. Eustace was still surprised at being asked to join them. He thought Gerald must want to swap something, and had put in his pocket all his available treasures, though ashamed of their commonplace quality.
    â€œWhen you drive them,” he proceeded, “what do they do different from us?”
    Mr. Craddock laughed shortly. “They don’t pay for my tea.”
    â€œBut aren’t they very rich?”
    â€œThey’re near, if you ask me.”
    Eustace had scarcely time to digest this disagreeable information when he heard his father’s voice: “Eustace, look! There are the Steptoes—they’ve got here first.”
    By now the Downs were upon them, green slopes, low but steep, enclosing a miniature valley. The valley swung away to the left, giving an effect of mystery and distance. The four Steptoes were sitting by the stream—hardly perceptible but for its fringe of reeds and tall grasses—that divided the valley. Nancy had taken her hat off and was shaking back her golden hair. Eustace knew the gesture well; he felt it to be the perfection of sophistication and savoir-faire . He raised his hat and waved. Nancy responded with elegant negligence. Major and Mrs. Steptoe rose to their feet. Something made Eustace look back into the landau at Hilda. She could see the Steptoes quite well, but she didn’t appear to notice them. A small bush to the left was engaging her attention: she peered at it from under her drawn brows as though it was something quite extraordinary and an eagle might fly out of it. Turning away, Eustace sighed.
    â€œI hope you will have a nice time, Mr. Craddock,” he said.
    â€œDon’t you worry about that, Master Eustace.”
    â€œWill you have some more cake, Nancy?”
    â€œNo, thank you, Eustace.”
    â€œWill you have some of the sandwiches we brought, though I’m afraid they’re not as nice as your cake?”
    â€œThey’re delicious, but I don’t think I’ll have any more.”
    â€œI could easily make you some fresh tea, couldn’t I, Aunt Sarah?”
    â€œYes, but you must take care not to scald yourself.”
    â€œWell, if it’s absolutely no trouble, Eustace. You made it so beautifully before.”
    Eustace glowed.
    â€œLook here, Gerald,” said Major Steptoe, turning on his massive tweed-clad elbow, “you’re neglecting Hilda.”
    â€œShe said she didn’t want any more,” remarked Gerald a trifle curtly.
    â€œIf you pressed her she might change her mind.”
    â€œThanks, I never change it.”
    Hilda was sitting on the Steptoes’ beautiful blue carriage rug, her heels drawn up, her arms clasping her knees, her head averted, her eyes fixed on some distant object down the valley.
    â€œWhat a determined daughter you’ve got, Cherrington.”
    â€œWell, she is a bit obstinate at times.”
    â€œAunt Sarah said if you keep on changing your mind no one will respect you,” said Hilda in lofty accents and without looking round.
    â€œShe’s hardly eaten anything,” said Gerald, who was Eustace’s senior by a year. “Just one or two of their sandwiches and none of our cakes.”
    There was an awkward pause. Eustace came to the rescue. “She hardly ever eats cakes, do you, Hilda?”
    â€œWhat an unusual little girl!” said Mrs. Steptoe with her high laugh.
    â€œYou needn’t be afraid of getting fat, you know,” said Major Steptoe, gently pinching Hilda’s thin calf with his large strong hand. Hilda rounded on him with the movement of a horse shaking off a fly.
    â€œIt doesn’t do to be greedy at my time of life.”
    â€œWhy ever not?”
    Eustace whispered nervously to Nancy, “She doesn’t like being touched. Isn’t it funny? She