Who Pays the Piper? Read Free

been superintending all the alterations. A Mr. Phipson—yes, that’s it—Mr. Montague Phipson. Quite a pleasant little man.”
    â€œOh, yes, but he’s the business secretary. Mr. Dale has a great many business interests. He doesn’t want Cathy for that sort of thing. She is to do the flowers and—well, all the sort of things she and Susan used to do for my brother—only of course there will be far more entertaining now. He came to see me about it and was quite charming.”
    This was three months ago. Tonight Susan and Lydia took the garden way to the Little House. They came out on to the first of the terraces and saw the whole slope of the hill under a waning moon and a dappled sky, and the lights in the village far below.
    Susan stood for a moment and looked. She felt Lydia’s hand on her arm.
    â€œI don’t know how you can bear it. It isn’t his—it’s yours. It will always be yours.”
    â€œBut I don’t want it, Lydia—I never did. I’ve seen too much of trying to keep up a big place on a small income—” her soft laugh broke in—“or no income at all.”
    â€œI didn’t mean that,” said Lydia—“I didn’t mean that at all. What about having the income to match the place? Wouldn’t you like that?”
    Susan laughed again.
    â€œBill wouldn’t. He wants to build everything we live in. He says what’s the good of being an architect if you don’t. So we shall start in a three-roomed cottage and work up.”
    Lydia’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She said crisply,
    â€œAnd when do you start?”
    They had been standing still, but Susan moved now. It was not until they reached the next terrace that she answered Lydia’s question.
    â€œIt is so dreadfully hard for an architect to get a start. They mustn’t advertise, and it’s uphill work getting known. The Maynards were awfully pleased with the house he did for them. He proposed to me on the strength of that. But he’s only had small jobs since then. People say they’re going to build, and then building costs go up, or something like that, and they don’t do it. If we had any capital, it would be different, because then he could build to sell or let without waiting for orders, and get known that way.”
    â€œIt sounds like waiting a long time,” said Lydia. She paused and added, with the effect of flinging a dart, “Are you going to wait?”
    Susan stopped at the top of the steps to the last terrace. The moonlight stole all her colour, but it wasn’t the moonlight which made her look so stern.
    â€œWhat do you mean? Of course I’m going to wait.”
    â€œAre you?” said Lydia. “Are you? Are you, Susan? I wouldn’t if I were you. Do you remember how Lolly Smith got engaged to a boy who had just gone into the army, and he went out to India, and they went on being engaged for years and years and years till she’d completely gone down the drain, and then he married a girl of eighteen whom he’d known for a month?”
    â€œLydia!”
    â€œWell, suppose you both go on waiting. What a look-out! You’ll begin to lose your looks, and either he’ll get plodding and dull and won’t care, or else he’ll get worked up and nervy and feel that he’s spoiling your life. You can take your pick of which you’d rather have on your hands, but you can bet your life, whichever it is, it’ll be hell for you.”
    â€œLydia!”
    â€œOh, you don’t think so now. Look at me. I was crazy to marry Freddy—we were crazy about each other. And what’s the good of it? I’m sitting at home with the parents, and he’s in China. I can’t go out, and he can’t come home. What’s the good of it?”
    Susan laughed.
    â€œYou’d do it again tomorrow.”
    Lydia stamped her foot.
    â€œBecause I’m a fool!