Cold Comfort Farm Read Online Free PDF Page B

naturally from the union of two lovingnatures, and that they should take place in churches, with all the usual paraphernalia and hugaboo; and so had her own marriage arisen and been celebrated.
    ‘But what I wanted to ask you was this,’ continued Flora. ‘Do you think a circular letter to all these relatives would be a good idea? Would it impress them with my efficiency?’
    ‘No,’ returned Mrs Smiling, coldly, ‘I do not think it would. It would be
too
putting-off. You must write to them, of course (making it an
entirely
different letter each time, Flora) explaining the situation – that is, if you really are going to be so insane as to go on with the idea.’
    ‘Don’t fuss, Mary. I will write the letters tomorrow, before lunch. I would write them tonight, only I think we ought to dine out – don’t you? – to celebrate the inauguration of my career as a parasite. I have ten pounds and I will take you to the New River Club – angelic place!’
    ‘Don’t be silly. You know perfectly well we must have some men.’
    ‘Then you can find them. Are any of the Pioneers-O home on leave?’
    Mrs Smiling’s face assumed that brooding and maternal look which was associated in the minds of her friends with thoughts of the Pioneers-O.
    ‘Bikki is,’ she said. (All the Pioneers-O had short, brusque nicknames rather like the cries of strange animals, but this was quite natural, for they all came from places full of strange animals.)
    ‘And your second cousin, Charles Fairford, is in town,’ continued Mrs Smiling. ‘The tall, serious, dark one.’
    ‘He will do,’ said Flora, with approval. ‘He has such a funny little nose.’
    Accordingly, about twenty minutes to nine that night Mrs Smiling’s car drove away from Mouse Place carrying herself and Flora in white dresses, with absurd little wreaths of flowers at the side of their heads; and opposite sat Bikki, and Charles, whom Flora had only met half a dozen times before.
    Bikki, who had a shocking stammer, talked a great deal, as people with stammers always love to do. He was plain andthirtyish, and home on leave from Kenya. He pleased them by corroborating all the awful rumours they had heard about the place. Charles, who looked well in tails, spoke hardly at all. Occasionally he gave a loud, deep, musical ‘Ha! Ha!’ when amused at anything. He was twenty-three, and was to be a parson. He stared out of the window most of the time, and hardly looked at Flora.
    ‘I don’t think Sneller approves of this excursion,’ observed Mrs Smiling, as they drove away. ‘He looked all dim and concerned. Did you notice?’
    ‘He approves of me, because I look serious,’ said Flora. ‘A straight nose is a great help if one wishes to look serious.’
    ‘I do not wish to look serious,’ said Mrs Smiling, coldly. ‘There will be time enough to do that when I have to come and rescue you from some impossible relations living in some ungetatable place because you can’t bear it any longer. Have you told Charles about it?’
    ‘Good heavens, no! Charles is a relation. He might think I wanted to go and live with him and Cousin Helen in Hertfordshire, and was angling for an invitation.’
    ‘Well, you could if you liked,’ said Charles, turning from his study of the glittering streets gliding past the windows. ‘There is a swing in the garden and tobacco flowers in the summer, and probably Mother and I would quite like it if you did.’
    ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Mrs Smiling. ‘Look – here we are. Did you get a table near the river, Bikki?’
    Bikki had managed to do that; and when they were seated facing the flowers and lights on their table they could look down through the glass floor at the moving river, and watch it between their slippers, as they danced. Through the glass walls they could see the barges going past, bearing their romantic red and green lights. Outside it had begun to rain, and the glass roof was soon trickling with silver.
    In the course of