Pym himself, however, was not among those who nursed such high
hopes. When he took the Piccadilly mansion the preceding spring, and
transferred his household to London for the season, he meant to
entertain lavishly, and give the girls every possible opportunity to
see the world of the highest London society, knowing full well he
could do this because his friends numbered many among England's high
names. That he should take them into the wilds of Rhodesia instead had
certainly been the very last thought in his mind. On the other hand,
as we have said, it did not greatly perturb him. He was inclined to
think they might gain as much from their pioneer pilgrimage as from a
rush of continuous gaiety. What exactly they _had_ gained it would
have been difficult to gauge; nothing perhaps that Aunt Emily would
detect, fussing and exclaiming round them upon their first arrival.

Diana, in a mood for merriment, and possibly to cover a certain
invisible shadow that rested as a dim cloud upon the party, rouged her
face to a brilliant red with an alarmingly fiery nose end. When she
lifted her veil and confronted her aunt with a perfectly unconcerned
smile, that lady raised her hands in horror and bemoaning. "O, my
dear!... my dear!... your complexion is ruined. How could you be so
careless? How could Meryl let you?... It will take weeks of care to
undo the mischief."

"O, don't make a fuss, aunty! Complexions don't matter tuppence-halfpenny
in Rhodesia. You surely didn't imagine I was going to carry a
sun-umbrella about, did you?"

"But my dear child!..." still in great distress. "It is a dreadful
thing to say, but you really look as if ... as if ..." but there her
courage forsook her, and she could not name the dreadful possibility.

"As if I had been drinking!" finished Diana cheerfully. "Yes, it's a
little awkward, but perhaps if I don't lurch or look foolish ..." Then
she encountered the astonished eyes of a young footman, who had come
in with some small paraphernalia from the motor, and unable to keep
her face, turned hurriedly away.

"I'm rather afraid James is going to have a fit," she remarked to
Meryl. "I hope it won't incapacitate him for the rest of the day," and
she chuckled to herself. Meryl had not yet raised her veil, and the
anxiety on Aunt Emily's face, which she vainly strove to hide, was
delighting Diana more than ever. "Better not take your veil off
downstairs, Meryl. Aunt Emily has had rather a shock from m