Page:The Climber (Benson).djvu/276

266 "Ah, I may only have precipitated it," said Lucia. "You told me once that I had not made a set, but precipitated it."

"I remember, but I think I was wrong. Anyhow, you have changed the autumn; you can't precipitate an autumn, or—what would happen? I suppose it would become winter. But there must be now in this nice town at least fifty people who would not have been here except for you. And to move fifty people, especially when they are those who matter, is remarkable."

Lucia nodded her head in frank appreciation of this recognition.

"Tribute-money is delicious," she observed.

Lady Heron never flattered anybody, never, at any rate, said insincere things because they would please. But she was notable for seeing what there was to praise in a world that a less clever woman might have thought but mediocre, and she was always quick to praise it.

"The tribute-money is willingly paid," she said, "for it is beyond doubt that you have done what you meant to do, which is a royal attribute. You found November dull in the country, and so came to town. And we sheep came too. We also, and for years, had found the country dull in November, but we didn't come to town for fear we should be quite alone there. Probably we should have been, too. Oh, Lucia, I really envy you. You built a pinnacle yourself, and proceeded to sit on the top of it. It must be such fun building and then climbing. I never did that. I found a pinnacle built—yes, I am on a pinnacle, though it is lower than yours—and just went and sat on it. I have had enormous fun. But I never could do what you have done already. It is a question of vitality, I think. Your vitality is a little higher, or a great deal higher than anybody else's. Don't lose it. I envy it, but I rejoice in it."

The two had dined alone and early, meaning to go to the play. But having abandoned the thought of the first act, the question of the play was dismissed for the time. The night before Lucia had given a dance, a November dance, a thing as unheard of as a December rose, and it was this, and the success of it, that had started the question of the tribute-money. And Madge Heron had done no more than render unto Lucia the things that were Lucia's. She had left Brayton in the last week of October, and settled herself firmly and squarely in Prince's Gate. As usual, people were passing to and fro, sleeping a night at a hotel before going on somewhere else, but when she had given the lead a change came. Half a dozen people came to stop a week in