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“I think you’re quite right,” Lucy said with complete conviction. “I can’t think of anything more worth while.”

Mrs. Mayberry looked at her thoughtfully. She had no intention of prying into Lucy's affairs, but wasn't it surprising that the child had completely missed the point? What she had said was that work made life
seem
worth living. In fact, it was no more than a deliberately cultivated illusion designed to take the place of simple human happiness. Worth a lot, but only second best. But she had no intention of telling Lucy that. If what she wanted was hard, interesting work, she should have it. One of these days she would no doubt find out for herself—

Most of what Lucy discovered about Owen was from Bertha, just as it was she who showed Lucy all over the house. Bertha, it was clear, found all her happiness in looking after Mrs. Mayberry and Owen— particularly Owen. She was never tired of talking about him.

“I had him from the month, miss," she explained. “And a more lovable baby you couldn't have found. And he's grown up into a fine man. Of course, there's some that call him hard, but they’re the ones who don't know him the way I do!"

To that Lucy made no comment, but she listened with interest to Bertha's rather confused explanation of what Owen did for a living.

“Not that really he need do anything," Bertha explained. “He comes of a wealthy family, you see, but he was never one to enjoy idleness, and music has always been his hobby—he plays the piano very nicely, you know."

But he wasn't, it appeared, a professional pianist. As far as Lucy could make out, his interest lay in the encouragement and advancement of music in any of its forms. If, for instance, there was a festival of music anywhere in the world, you could be sure that Owen was in some way concerned in it. Quite likely, Lucy guessed, he had a financial interest in it, for Bertha went on proudly:

“And whatever he has dealings with is a success, you can be sure. He isn’t only musical, you see, he’s got a real business head. But there’s more to it than that. There’s many a young player or singer that owes their big chance to Mr. Owen. And most of them are successes, too, because he’s got what they call a flair for picking them out. But of course, there’s one particular one—you come along with me to Mr. Owen’s room and I’ll show you!”

And taking no notice of Lucy’s protests that perhaps Mr. Vaughan would prefer that she didn’t, Bertha led the way to the back of the house.

“This is the music room,” she explained, opening the door. Real concerts there are here sometimes when Mr. Owen entertains some of his musical friends. But this is what I was going to show you.”

She picked up a silver-framed portrait from the desk in the comer of the room and handed it to Lucy.

“There!” she said triumphantly.

Lucy gazed down at the portrait of a strikingly beautiful girl. She had masses of curling dark hair and enormous dark eyes, and she was smiling out of the frame right into the eyes of the beholder.

“Why, that’s Marion Singleton!” Lucy exclaimed. “I’ve got most of her records at home. She has a most beautiful voice.”

“That’s right,” Bertha agreed complacently. “And it was Mr. Owen who discovered her, as they say. She owes everything to him—and she doesn’t mind admitting it.” She took the picture from Lucy and regarded it approvingly. “A lovely young lady, in every way, and we do think—well, of course, it’s not really for me to say, but there’s no doubt about it, Mr. Owen is much more interested in her than he is in any of his other prodigies.”

Lucy thought that Bertha probably meant proteges, but she did not say so. It was of such minor importance compared with Bertha’s revelations.

Owen Vaughan deeply interested in music was astonishing enough, but Owen Vaughan in love—that was incredible!

Lucy had her first experience of what entertaining at Spindles meant when she had been there about a month.

One morning, instead of beginning to dictate to. Lucy from the notes she had made the previous day, Mrs. Mayberry announced that they would be entertaining about eight people for the following weekend and she would be glad of Lucy’s help in working out details.

“Owen wrote to them all last week,” she explained, opening a filing folder which lay on the top of a small pile of papers. “And so far he has had five replies. I would like you to make two lists on the same sheet of paper, one of acceptances, one of queries. Ready?”

Lucy’s eyes widened as the lists were dictated. Owen must be a very important person indeed, she realised, for surely few hosts ,could summon such a talented collection of guests as this! All were well-known personalities, some indeed were famous.

Among the men was an operatic singer of international renown, a conductor whose name was a household word and a judge who found relaxation with a violin.

“He could have been a top-ranking professional had he wished,” Mrs. Mayberry commented in parenthesis. “But law is in his blood—his father and his grandfather were judges before him.”

Marion Singleton headed the list of the women, and under her name was that of a brilliant actress whose recent one-woman show had been a scintillating success both in America and in this country.

Two other names, one of a man and one of a woman, went into the “query” list.

“Owen expects to hear from them today—they are only just back from a European tour,” Mrs. Mayberry explained. “If they don’t feel like making the effort so soon after that he will ask the Littleton twins—the brother and sister who play piano duets.”

“But either way, won’t you be a woman short, Mrs. Mayberry?” Lucy asked, looking up from her pad. “You’ve given me the names of four men, but only three women.”

“Oh, no, that’s taken care of,” Mrs. Mayberry assured her.
“You
are to be the fourth woman.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t!” Lucy protested. “I should feel terrible! I mean, your guests are all so famous— wouldn’t they feel affronted at having a mere secretary—?”

Mrs. Mayberry laughed softly.

“My dear child, you’ve' evidently yet to learn that the more genuinely famous people are, the less they are concerned with their own importance! I have been told that is because it is so assured that they don’t have to worry about it, but my conviction is that it is due to a far more attractive quality than that—a humility that comes when you know that you have a gift of God. In addition to that, all people who spend much of their lives in the public eye need to relax— and very often they do it in a way that would surprise and perhaps shock their devotees! Lord Manderville, the judge, for instance, has an absolute passion for Western novels and films. If there is one on television, we simply can’t drag him away from it. Lisa Freyne likes to put on the oldest clothes she’s got and spend her time helping Bence in the vegetable garden—no, you needn’t be in the least bit worried, Lucy. You will feel perfectly at home with them and they with you.”

“If you’re sure—” Lucy still felt doubtful.

“Quite sure,” Mrs. Mayberry said briskly. “And now, which bedrooms they are to have—”

From the file she took a sheet of paper which Lucy saw was a printed plan of the first floor of the house— evidently nothing was left to chance at Spindles!

“Lord Manderville in his usual room,” she murmured, pencilling in his name. “Lisa
here
—she’ll have a good view of the vegetable garden from the windows— she likes to see the results of her labours! Jeremy Trent—” her pencil hesitated and then wrote in the names. “Yes, that will do. I’ll put Sinclair Forbes in the adjoining room and they can share a bathroom. That’s the men. Now—Marion—” She frowned and tapped the list impatiently. “If only I knew whether it was to be the Champneys or the Littletons! One way I want a double room, the other way, two singles. Difficult!”

“Would it help if someone had my—had the room you’ve given me?” Lucy suggested diffidently. “I mean, it’s such a lovely one—and with its own bathroom. Surely it’s one you usually use for your guests?”

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Mayberry admitted. “Thank you for suggesting it, Lucy. Well then, if it’s the Champneys, they can have the room just opposite yours, and if it’s the Littletons, Celia can have that room and Robin can have yours. Then—” her pencil hovered uncertainly, “I’m afraid that means putting you in rather a dull little room without much of. a view and without its own bathroom. Will you mind very much?”

“Not a bit,” Lucy averred cheerfully.

“Of course,” Mrs. Mayberry remarked, “some people would say that we are silly to give the staff so many of the good rooms, but after all, they are here all the time and we furnish theirs as bed-sitting rooms. Everybody needs somewhere comfortable where they can be alone if they want to, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s very thoughtful of you,” Lucy said wholeheartedly. She had certainly been grateful that her room had afforded her that luxury.

“That’s all, then,” Mrs. Mayberry said with a sigh of relief.

“You haven’t allocated a room for Miss Singleton,” Lucy reminded her.

“Oh, Marion always has this room if it is possible.”

Mrs. Mayberry indicated it and Lucy saw that not only was it the largest of the single rooms, but also that in addition to a bathroom it also had a small sitting room opening off it. Clearly Marion Singleton was a very much favoured guest at Spindles!

“There!” Mrs. Mayberry sat back. “Now, if you will fill in the names in rather bold print—Bertha’s eyesight isn’t as good as it was, but she won’t wear glasses —you can give it to her and she can have the rooms prepared. Now, is there anything else? Places at table. No, I can’t see to that until we know just who is coming. Oh—yes, there is just one thing, dear. On these occasions, we dress for dinner. It’s the only concession we make to convention. Nothing elaborate, though. A cocktail dress—?” There was an upward inflection in her voice which was an obvious question.

“I haven’t anything suitable here,” Lucy told her. “But—but I have at home.”

“Good! Then can you have it sent—no, better than that. You’ve been a month away from home now, and I’m sure your parents would like to see you. Why not go home tomorrow, stay the night and return the following day?”

Lucy swallowed hard. She knew quite well that Mrs. Mayberry was right. Her parents, now home from their holiday, would like to see her, but facing up to them was going to be something of an ordeal. They wouldn’t ask questions, and they wouldn’t mention Dick—but she would know what was in their minds. Keeping up appearances would certainly be more difficult than it was here where no one concerned themselves with her affairs—even Owen had stopped watching her with that half cynical, half apprehensive look which suggested that he thought she was going to faint or burst into tears at any moment.

Then, too, the cocktail dress she had in mind had formed part of her trousseau. She could imagine just how tactfully her mother would refrain from remarking that it was really only sensible to use it—and the other clothes she had left behind. And yet that was the truth. It would be stupid to buy new clothes which she could not afford when all that she needed was ready to hand “Thank you very much, Mrs. Mayberry,” she said steadily. “If you’re sure you can spare me?”

“Yes, dear, of course I can. Now, if you catch the early train—no, wait a minute. If you put it off a day. Owen can drive you up. He’s going to London anyhow and it will hardly take him out of his way at all. Yes that’s a far better plan. It will give you a lot more time with your parents than if you go by train. And he is
returning the following day so he can pick you up—’

“Oh, but really, that’s too much to ask of him,’ Lucy said hurriedly. “Really, it’s quite all right for me to go by train!”

She had no wish whatsoever to spend several hours alone with Owen in the close confines of a car, but Mrs. Mayberry had already lifted the house telephone and was speaking to Owen.

“Yes, that’s quite all right,” she said a moment later “He will be starting at half past nine the day after tomorrow, and he can pick you up the next day a eleven.”

“Very well,” Lucy said meekly because it was impossible to reject the offer without appearing ungracious. “I’ll see to it that I’m ready on time so that I don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yes, perhaps you’d better,” Mrs. Mayberry agreed “If there is one thing that Owen is a bit difficult about it is punctuality!”

Lucy smiled a trifle wryly.
One
thing that he was difficult about! Surely that was an understatement if ever there was one!

* * *

Lucy did not imagine for a moment that Owen could have really welcomed having her as a travelling companion. Like her, he had much more likely accepted the situation because there was really no way out, but at least he gave no sign of annoyance and even went so far as to produce sufficient small talk to avoid awkward silences. As a result, Lucy found it comparatively easy to do her share, and the journey passed with none of the embarrassment she had anticipated.

It passed far more quickly, too, than had seemed likely, although, despite the powerfulness of his car, Owen had kept his speed well within reasonable bounds. Involuntarily Lucy remembered some of the drives she had taken with Dick in the secondhand car he had run. Dick loved speed and invariably he flogged every last ounce of power out of the car until Lucy had felt as if her teeth were chattering in sympathy with its boneshaking vibration. Those trips had made her feel physically and mentally tired—but she had never had the heart to ask Dick to drive more slowly because he was so obviously enjoying himself. Except,, of course, that he had so often mourned his inability to have a better car—

When they reached Lucy's home, secure in the knowledge that she had telephoned her mother the previous evening, she asked Owen if he would come in and meet her parents. She had not expected for a moment that he would want to, but to her astonishment, he agreed readily. On the whole, Lucy was glad. In Owen's presence it would be impossible for their greeting to her to show any more than very normal emotion.