Summer was gay in Upper Radstowe. There were tea-parties and
picnics, she paid calls with her aunts and learnt to play lawn tennis
with her contemporaries. Her friendship with the Battys ripened.
She was always sure of her welcome at Prospect House, and though she
often assured herself that she could love no one but Francis Sales,
that was no reason why others should not love her. From that point of
view John Batty was a failure. He took her to a cricket match, but
finding that she did not know the alphabet of the game, and was more
interested in the spectators than in the players, he gave her up. He
admired her appearance, but it did not make amends for ignorance of
such a grossness; and, equally displeased with him, she returned home
alone while he watched out the match.
The next day when she paid her usual Sunday visit, she ignored him
pointedly and mentally crossed him off her list. Charles, ugly and
odd, was infinitely more responsive, though he greeted her on this
occasion with reproach.
'You went to a cricket match yesterday with John.'
'It was very boring and I got a headache. I shall never go again.'
'He said he wouldn't take you.'
Henrietta smiled subtly, implying a good deal.
'I shouldn't have thought,' Charles went on mournfully, 'of suggesting
such a thing.'
'My aunts were rather shocked. I went on the top of a tramcar with
him.'
'But if you can go out with him, why shouldn't you go out with me?'
'But where?' Henrietta questioned practically.
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