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diff --git a/40487-8.txt b/40487-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 13f7dca..0000000 --- a/40487-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10436 +0,0 @@ - HAPPY-GO-LUCKY - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: Happy-go-lucky - -Author: Ian Hay - -Release Date: August 12, 2012 [EBook #40487] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY-GO-LUCKY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - -[Illustration: "LET ME GIVE YOU ONE HINT, MY LAD" (p. 48)] - - - - - HAPPY-GO-LUCKY - - - BY - - IAN HAY - - - - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - C. E. BROCK - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - The Riverside Press Cambridge - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY IAN HAY BEITH - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - _Published August, 1913_ - - - - - TO - T. S. A. B. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - _BOOK ONE_ - - YOUTHFUL EXCURSIONS - - - I. A Brief Introduction - II. The First Freak - III. Io Saturnalia! - - - _BOOK TWO_ - - A BLIND ALLEY - - - IV. Travels with a First Reserve - V. Very Odious - VI. Forbidden Fruit--A Digression - VII. Unearned Increment - VIII. A Relapse - IX. The Only Way Out - X. Still at Large - XI. The First Turning to the Right - - - _BOOK THREE_ - - THE RIGHT ROAD - - - XII. Mice and Men - XIII. Lucidity Itself - XIV. Another Cosy Chat, with an Interruption - XV. A Day of Calm Reflection - XVI. An Impossible Family - XVII. The Word "Swank" - XVIII. De L'Audace, et encore de l'Audace, et toujours de l'Audace! - XIX. Sidelights on a Public Character - XX. Rehearsed Effects - XXI. Unrehearsed - XXII. The Real Tilly - XXIII. The Real Mr. Welwyn - XXIV. A Garden Plot in Russell Square - XXV. Purely Commercial - XXVI. The Final Freak - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - -"Let me give you one Hint, my Lad" (p. 48) . . . _Frontispiece_ - -"Chorus once more, please, Gentlemen!" - -"How do you do, Miss Weller?" said Lady Adela, mystified but well-bred - -"Reflect!" urged the Broker's Man, gently resisting Percy's Efforts to -eject him - -"This is very naughty," he announced reproachfully - - - - - HAPPY-GO-LUCKY - - BOOK ONE - - YOUTHFUL EXCURSIONS - - - - HAPPY-GO-LUCKY - - - CHAPTER I - - A BRIEF INTRODUCTION - - -They--that is, the London-and-the-south-thereof contingent of the Hivite -House at Grandwich--always celebrated the first morning of the holidays -by breakfasting together at the Imperial Hotel at Oakleigh, as a -preliminary to catching the nine-fifty-two. - -A certain stateliness--not to say pomp--distinguished the function. -Negotiations for the provision of the feast were opened at an early -date--usually about half-term--the first step taking the form of a -dignified but ungrammatical communication, cast in that most intricate -and treacherous of moulds, the third person, to the proprietor of the -hotel, intimating, after compliments, that _Mr. Rumbold_ (_major_), -_Hivite House, Grandwich School, would be much obliged if our party -could be supplied with breakfast, and you usually do it for half-a-crown -as there are a lot of us, and if you don't we shall probably go to the -George, and as the party wishes to catch the train Mr. Rumbold would be -obliged if you can give it to me punctually_. - -To this mine host would reply with a most gratifying typewritten -document addressed to--_Rumbold, Esq._,--a form of address which never -fails to please so long as your parents and other adult correspondents -persist in designating you "Master,"--expressing the utmost willingness -to provide breakfast for Mr. Rumbold's party at two-and-sixpence per -head (which, by the way, was the normal charge), and concluding with a -tactfully-worded request for information (inadvertently omitted from Mr. -Rumbold's original communication) upon the following points:-- - -(1) The date of the feast. - -(2) The number of young gentlemen likely to be present. - -(3) The hour of the train which they propose to catch. - -During the second half-term Mr. Rumbold's leisure would be pleasantly -occupied in recruiting the breakfast-party and communicating its numbers -and requirements, intermittently and piecemeal, together with searching -enquiries re kidneys and ultimatums on the subject of scrambled eggs, to -the rapidly ageing proprietor of the Imperial Hotel. - -On the joyous morning of departure a dozen emancipated Helots, all -glorious in bowler hats and coloured ties which atoned at a bound for -thirteen weeks of statutory headgear and _subfusc._ haberdashery, -descended upon the Imperial Hotel and sat down with intense but -businesslike cheerfulness to the half-crown breakfast. On these -occasions distinctions of caste were disregarded. Fag and prefect sat -side by side. Brothers who had religiously cut one another throughout -the term were reunited, even indulging in Christian names. Gentlemen -who had fought to a finish behind the fives-court every alternate -Wednesday afternoon since term began, took sweet counsel together upon -the respective merits of Egyptian and Turkish cigarettes. - -On the particular occasion with which we are concerned--a crisp morning -in December--the party numbered twelve. It is not necessary to describe -them in detail, for ten of them make their appearance, in this -narrative, at any rate, for the first and last time. Let it suffice to -say that Mr. Rumbold major sat at the head of the table and Mr. Rumbold -minor at the foot, Mr. Rumbold tertius occupying a position about -halfway down. Among others present might have been noticed (as the -little society papers say) Mr. "Balmy" Coke, Mr. "Oaf" Sandiford, Mr. -"Buggy" Reid, Mr. "Slimy" Green, Mr. "Lummy" Law, and Mr. "Adenoid" -Smith. More notable figures were Messrs. "Spangle" Jerningham and "Tiny" -Carmyle--lesser luminaries than Rumbold himself, but shining lights in -the athletic firmament for all that. - -One place only was vacant. The company, in accordance with what is -probably the most rigorous social code in existence--schoolboy -etiquette--had divided itself into two groups. The first, consisting of -those whose right to a place at the head of the table was unquestioned, -settled down at once with loud and confident anticipations of enjoyment. -The remainder followed their example with more diffidence, beginning at -the foot of the table and extending coyly upwards, those whose claim to -a place above the salt was beginning to be more than considerable -punctiliously taking the lowest places in order to escape the dread -stigma of "side." Thus, by reason of the forces of mutual repulsion, a -gap occurred in the very middle of the table, between a nervous little -boy in spectacles, one Buggy Reid, and the magnificent Mr. Jerningham, -Secretary of the Fifteen and the best racquets-player in the school. - -"One short!" announced Rumbold. "Who is it?" - -There was a general counting of heads. Mr. Reid timidly offered -information. - -"I think it is The Freak," he said. - -There was a general laugh. - -"Wonder what he's up to now," mused Mr. Jerningham. "You ought to know, -Rummy. Your fag, is n't he?" - -"I gave him the bag two terms ago," replied the great man contentedly. -"Tiny has him now." - -He turned to another of the seniors--a long-legged youth with a subdued -manner. - -"Still got him, Tiny?" - -"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle gloomily, "I have still got him. It's a hard -life, though." - -"I know," said Rumbold sympathetically. "Does he cross-question you -about the photographs on your mantelpiece?" - -"Yes," said Carmyle. "He spoke very favourably of my youngest sister. -Showed me a photograph of his own, and asked me to come and stay with -them in the holidays. Said he thought I would have much in common with -his father." - -There was general merriment at this, for Mr. Carmyle was patriarchal, -both in appearance and habits. But it did nothing to soothe the nerves -of The Freak himself, who happened at the moment to be standing shyly -upon one leg outside the door, endeavouring to summon up sufficient -courage to walk in. - -He was a small sandy-haired boy with shrewd blue eyes and a most -disarming smile, and he belonged to a not uncommon and distinctly -unlucky class. There are boys who are shy and who look shy. Such are -usually left to themselves, and gradually attain to confidence. There -are boys who are bumptious and behave bumptiously. Such are usually put -through a brief disciplinary course by their friends, and ultimately -achieve respectability. And there are boys who are shy, but who, -through sheer self-consciousness and a desire to conceal their shyness, -behave bumptiously. The way of such is hard. Public School -disciplinary methods do not discriminate between the sheep and the -goats. Variations from the normal, whether voluntary or involuntary, are -all corrected by the same methods. Unconventionality of every kind is -rebuked by stern moralists who have been through the mill themselves, -and are convinced that it would be ungenerous to deprive the succeeding -generation of the benefits which have produced such brilliant results in -their own case. - -The Freak--Master Richard Mainwaring--entered the school-world unfairly -handicapped. He had never been from home before. He was an only son, -and had had few companions but his parents. Consequently he was -addicted to language and phraseology which, though meet and fitting upon -the lips of elderly gentlemen, sounded ineffably pedantic upon those of -an unkempt fag of fourteen. Finally, he was shy and sensitive, yet -quite unable to indicate that characteristic by a retiring demeanour. - -Life at school, then, did not begin too easily for him. He was -naturally of a chirpy and confiding disposition, and the more nervous he -felt the more chirpy and confiding he became. He had no instincts, -either, upon the subject of caste. Instead of confining himself to his -own impossible order of pariahs, he attempted to fraternise with any boy -who interested him. He addressed great personages by their pet names; he -invited high potentates to come and partake of refreshment at his -expense. Now, promiscuous bonhomie in new boys is not usually -encouraged in the great schools of England, and all the ponderous and -relentless machinery available for the purpose was set in motion to -impress this truth upon the over-demonstrative Freak. Most of us know -this mighty engine. Under its operations many sensitive little boys -crumple up into furtive and apathetic nonentities. Others grow into -licensed buffoons, battening upon their own shame, cadging for cheap -applause, thinking always of things to say and to do which will make -fellows laugh. The Freak did neither. He remained obstinately and -resolutely a Freak. If chidden for eccentricity he answered back, -sometimes too effectively, and suffered. But he never gave in. At -last, finding that he apparently feared no one,--though really this was -far from being the case: his most audacious flights were as often as not -inspired by sheer nervous excitement,--the world in which he moved -decided to tolerate him, and finally ended by extending towards him a -sort of amused respect. - -All this time we have left our friend standing outside the door. -Presently, drawing a deep breath, he entered, jauntily enough. - -"Hallo, Freak, where have you been?" enquired Mr. Rumbold. - -"I felt constrained," replied The Freak, as one old gentleman to -another, "to return to the House upon an errand of reparation." - -A full half of the company present were blankly ignorant as to the -meaning of the word "reparation," so they giggled contentedly and -decided that The Freak was in good form this morning. - -"What was the trouble?" asked Jerningham. - -"As I was counting my change in the cab," explained The Freak, "I found -that I was a penny short. (I'll have fried sole, and then -bacon-and-eggs, please. And chocolate.)" - -"Shylock!" commented the humorous Mr. Jerningham. - -The Freak hastened to explain. - -"It was the only penny I had," he said: "that was why I missed it. The -rest was silver. I saw what had happened: I had given a penny to -Seagrave by mistake, instead of half-a-crown." - -The thought of Mr. Seagrave, the stern and awful butler of the Hivite -House, incredulously contemplating a solitary copper in his palm, what -time the unconscious Freak drove away two-and-fivepence to the good, -tickled the company greatly, and the narrator had made considerable -inroads upon the fried sole before he was called upon to continue. - -"What did you do?" asked Rumbold. - -"I drove back and apologised, and gave him two-and-fivepence," said The -Freak simply. - -"Was he shirty about it?" - -"No; he did n't seem at all surprised," was the rather naïve reply. - -There was another laugh at this, and Jerningham observed:-- - -"Freak, you are the limit." - -"I may be the limit," countered The Freak hotly,--ordinary chaff he -could endure, but Mr. Jerningham had more than once exceeded the bounds -of recognised fag-baiting that term,--"but I am wearing my own shirt, -Jerningham, and not one of Carmyle's!" - -There was a roar at this unexpected riposte, for Jerningham, though a -dandy of the most ambitious type, was notoriously addicted to borrowed -plumage, and the cubicle of the easy-going Carmyle was next his own. - -"You will be booted for that afterwards, my lad," announced the -discomfited wearer of Mr. Carmyle's shirt. - -The Freak surveyed his tormentor thoughtfully. After all, he was safe -from reprisals for nearly five weeks. He therefore replied, -deliberately and pedantically:-- - -"I do not dispute the probability of the occurrence. But that won't -prevent you," he added, reverting to the vernacular, "from feeling jolly -well scored off, all the same. And"--after a brief interval to allow -this psychological point full play--"mind you send the shirt back to -Carmyle. I have enough trouble looking after his things as it is. Get -it washed, and then carefully dis--" - -"Carefully _what_?" enquired Mr. Jerningham, beginning to push back his -chair. - -The Freak, who had intended to say "disinfected," decided not to -endanger his clean collar, carefully brushed hair, and other -appurtenances of the homeward-bound. - ---"And carefully despatched per Parcels Post," he concluded sweetly. -"Hello, you fellows--finished?" - -"Yes: buck up!" commanded Rumbold. - -The feast ended in traditional fashion. No bill was ever asked for or -presented upon these occasions. Rumbold major merely took the -sugar-basin and, having emptied it of its contents, placed therein the -sum of two-and-nine-pence--half-a-crown for his breakfast and threepence -for the waiters. The bowl was then sent round the table in the manner -of an offertory plate, and the resulting collection was handed without -ceremony to the fat head-waiter, who received it with a stately bow and -a few well-chosen and long-familiar phrases upon the subject of a good -holiday and a Merry Christmas; after which the members of the party -dispersed to the railway station and went their several ways. - -It was characteristic of The Freak that he hung behind at the last -moment, for the purpose of handing a furtive shilling to the -inarticulate Teuton who had assisted in dispensing breakfast, and whose -underfed appearance had roused beneath the comfortably distended -waistcoat of our altruistic friend certain suspicions, not altogether -unfounded, as to the principle upon which head-waiters share tips with -their subordinates. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - THE FIRST FREAK - - -My name is Carmyle. Possibly you may have noticed it in the previous -chapter, among the list of those present at the breakfast at the -Imperial. It was not a particularly hilarious meal for me, for I was -leaving Grandwich for good that morning; and the schoolboy bids farewell -to this, the first chapter of his life, with a ceremony--not to say -solemnity--sadly at variance with the cheerfulness or indifference with -which he sometimes turns the page at the close of later epochs. - -I parted from the main body of Hivites at Peterborough, for they were -bound for London, while I had to transfer my person and effects to the -care of the Great Eastern Railway for conveyance to my home in Essex. - -At Ely, a little tired of the company and conversation of five East -Anglian farmers, who occupied more than their fair share of room and -conducted an extremely dull technical conversation with quite surprising -heat and vehemence over my head and across my waistcoat, I walked up the -platform in search of a little more cubic space. At the very front of -the train I found a third-class compartment containing only a single -occupant. - -"Hallo, Freak!" I said. "I thought you were bound for London." - -"Your surmise," replied my late fag, "is correct. But there was a slight -mishap at Peterborough." - -"You got left behind?" - -"Practically, yes. In point of fact, I was bunged out of the train by -Spangle Jerningham." - -"Why?" - -"He bought some bananas, and I warned him not to. I said some people -had been prosecuted only last week for eating fruit in a railway -carriage." - -"Silly young idiot!" I replied, falling into the trap, even as -Jerningham had done. "Why--" - -"But they _were_," persisted The Freak. "They were caught sucking -dates--off their tickets! And as there was no train on for two hours," -he concluded, neatly dodging "The Strand Magazine," "I decided to come -round this way. We get to Liverpool Street by four. How far are you -going?" - -I told him, and the train resumed its journey through the fenland. - -The next stop was Cambridge, where The Freak, suddenly remembering that -the railway ticket in his possession was entirely useless for his -present purpose, got out to buy another. I hung out of the carriage -window, wondering which of the Colleges the tall yellow-brick building -just outside the station might be, and gazing reverentially upon a group -of three young men in tweed jackets and flannel trousers, who had -temporarily torn themselves from the pursuit of knowledge for the -purpose of bidding farewell to the members of a theatrical touring -company. - -Presently our engine and brake-van removed themselves to a place of -refreshment down the line; whereupon a somnolent horse of mountainous -aspect, which had been meekly standing by, attached by a trace to an -empty third-class coach, took advantage of their absence to tow its -burden to the front of our train and leave it there, like a foundling on -a doorstep, subsequently departing in search of further practical jokes. - -With that instinctive shrinking from publicity which marks the -professions of literature, art, and the drama, each of the compartments -of the third-class coach bore a label, printed in three colours, -announcing that this accommodation was reserved for Mr. Wilton Spurge's -Number One Company--I have always desired to meet a Number Two Company, -but have never succeeded--in "The Sign of the Cross," proceeding from -Cambridge to Liverpool Street, for Walthamstow. - -The majority of Mr. Wilton Spurge's followers took their seats at once; -but three young ladies, hugging boxes of chocolate, remained in -affectionate conversation with the undergraduates upon the platform. -Most of the gentlemen of the company still lingered in the -refreshment-room. Suddenly there was a gentle tremor throughout the -train, as the engine and brake-van reluctantly backed themselves into a -position of contact. A whistle blew, and a white flag fluttered far down -the platform. - -"There's no hurry," observed The Freak, who had returned from the ticket -office and was now surveying the passing show with his head thrust out -of the window under my arm. "That white flag only means that the -Westinghouse brake is working all right." - -But the female mind takes no account of technical trifles, least of all -upon a railway journey. To a woman flags and whistles all spell panic. -At the first blast, a lady (whom I took to be the Empress Poppeia) -hastily shepherded every one within reach into the train, and then -directed a piercing summons in the direction of the refreshment-room. -She was seconded by an irregular but impressive chorus of admonition -upon the perils of delay, led by Mercia in person and supported by a -bevy of Christian Martyrs and Roman Dancing-Girls. - -The whistle sounded again, and a second flag fluttered--a green one this -time. There was a concerted shriek from the locomotive and the ladies, -followed by a commotion at the door of the refreshment-room, from which -eftsoons the Emperor Nero, bearing a bag of buns and a copy of "The -Era," shot hastily forth. He was closely followed by Marcus Superbus, -running rapidly and carrying two bottles of stout. Three Roman -Patricians with their mouths full, together with a Father of the Early -Church clinging to a half-consumed pork-pie, brought up the rear. - -Deeply interested in the progress of the race, and speculating eagerly -as to whether Pagan or Christian would secure the corner-seats, The -Freak and I failed for the moment to note that our own compartment was -in danger of invasion. But resistance was vain. At the very last moment -the door was wrenched open by the guard, and four human beings were -projected into our company just as the train began to move. A handbag -and two paper parcels hurtled through the air after them. - -"Sorry to hurry you, Mr. Welwyn, sir," said the guard, standing on the -footboard and addressing the leader of the party through the window, -"but we are behind time as it is, with that theatrical lot." - -"My fault entirely, guard," replied Mr. Welwyn graciously. He was a -handsome scholarly man of about forty. I put him down as a University -Don of the best type--possibly one of the Tutors of a great college. -"We should have come earlier. And--er"--here followed the indeterminate -mumble and sleight-of-hand performance which accompany the bestowal of -the British tip--"thank you for your trouble." - -"Thank you, sir," replied the gratified menial, and disappeared into -space with half-a-crown in his palm. Evidently Mr. Welwyn was a man of -substance as well as consequence. - -"You did n't ought to have given him so much, father dear!" - -This just but ungrammatical observation emanated from the female head of -the party; and despite an innate disinclination to risk catching the eye -of strangers in public, I turned and inspected the speaker. From her -style of address it was plain that she was either wife or daughter to -Mr. Welwyn. Daughter she probably was not, for she must have been quite -thirty; and therefore by a process of exhaustion I was led to the -reluctant conclusion that she was his wife. I say reluctant, for it -seemed incredible that a suave polished academic gentleman could be -mated with a lady:-- - -(1) Who would initiate a domestic discussion in the presence of -strangers. - -(2) Whose syntax was shaky. - -(3) Who wore a crimson blouse, with vermilion feathers in her hat. - -But it was so. Mr. Welwyn waved a hand deprecatingly. - -"One has one's position to consider, dear," he said. "Besides, these -poor fellows are not overpaid, I fear, by their employers." - -At this, a grim contraction flitted for a moment over Mrs. Welwyn's -florid good-tempered features, and I saw suitable retorts crowding to -her lips. But that admirable and exceptional woman--as in later days -she proved herself over and over again to be--said nothing. Instead, -she smiled indulgently upon her extravagant husband, as upon a child of -the largest possible growth, and accepted from him with nothing more -than a comical little sigh two magazines which had cost sixpence each. - -I now had time to inspect the other two members of the party. They were -children. One was a little boy--a vulgar, overdressed, plebian, -open-mouthed little boy--and I was not in the least surprised a moment -later to hear his mother address him as "Percy." (It had to be either -"Percy" or "Douglas.") He was dressed in a tight and rather dusty suit -of velveteen, with a crumpled lace collar and a plush jockey-cap. He -looked about seven years old, wore curls down to his shoulders, and -extracted intermittent nourishment from a long and glutinous stick of -licorice. - -The other was a girl--one of the prettiest little girls I have ever -seen. I was not--and am not--an expert on children's ages, but I put -her down as four years old. She was a plump and well-proportioned -child, with an abundance of brown hair, solemn grey eyes, and a friendly -smile. She sat curled up on the seat, leaning her head against her -mother's arm, an oasis of contentment and neatness in that dusty railway -carriage; and I felt dimly conscious that in due time I should like to -possess a little girl of my own like that. - -At present she was engaged in industriously staring The Freak out of -countenance. - -The Freak, not at all embarrassed, smiled back at her. Miss Welwyn -broke into an unmaidenly chuckle, and her father put down "The Morning -Post." - -"Why this hilarity, my daughter?" he enquired. - -The little girl, who was apparently accustomed to academically long -words, indicated The Freak with a little nod of her head. - -"I like that boy," she said frankly. "Not the other. Too big!" - -"Baby _dearie_, don't talk so!" exclaimed Mrs. Welwyn, highly -scandalised. - -"I apologise for my daughter's lack of reserve--and discrimination," -said Mr. Welwyn to me, courteously. "She will not be so sincere and -unaffected in twenty years' time, I am afraid. Are you gentlemen going -home for the holidays?" - -I entered into conversation with him, in the course of which I learned -that he was a member of the University, off on vacation. He did not -tell me his College. - -"Do you get long holi--vacations, sir, at Cambridge?" I asked. "When do -you have to be back?" - -Youth is not usually observant, but on this occasion even my untutored -faculties informed me that Mr. Welwyn was looking suddenly older. - -"I am not going back," he said briefly. Then he smiled, a little -mechanically, and initiated a discussion on compound locomotives. - -Presently his attention was caught by some occurrence at the other end -of the compartment. He laughed. - -"My daughter appears to be pressing her companionship upon your friend -with a distressing lack of modesty," he said. - -I turned. The Freak had installed his admirer in the corner-seat beside -him, and, having found paper and pencil, was engaged in turning out -masterpieces of art at her behest. With a flat suitcase for a desk, he -was executing--so far as the Great Eastern Railway would permit him--a -portrait of Miss Welwyn herself; his model, pleasantly thrilled, -affectionately clasping one of his arms in both of hers and breathing -heavily through her small nose, which she held about six inches from the -paper. - -Finally the likeness was completed and presented. - -"Now draw a cow," said Miss Welwyn immediately. - -The Freak meekly set to work again. - -Then came the inevitable question. - -"What's her name?" - -The artist considered. - -"Sylvia," he said at length. Sylvia, I knew, was the name of his -sister. - -"Not like that name!" said the child, more prophetically than she knew. - -The Freak apologised and suggested Mary Ann, which so pleased his -patroness that she immediately lodged an order for twelve more cows. -The artist executed the commission with unflagging zeal and care, Miss -Welwyn following every stroke of the pencil with critical interest and -numbering off the animals as they were created. - -About this time Master Percy Welwyn, who had fallen into a fitful -slumber, woke up and loudly expressed a desire for a commodity which he -described as "kike." His mother supplied his needs from a string-bag. -Refreshed and appeased, he slept anew. - -Meanwhile the herd of cows had been completed, and The Freak was, -immediately set to work to find names for each. The appellation Mary -Ann had established a fatal precedent, for The Freak's employer -ruthlessly demanded a double title for each of Mary Ann's successors. -Appealed to for a personal contribution, she shook her small head -firmly: to her, evidently, in common with the rest of her sex, -destructive criticism of male endeavour was woman's true sphere in life. -But when the despairing Freak, after submitting Mabel-Maud, Emily-Kate, -Elizabeth-Jane, and Maria-Theresa, made a second pathetic appeal for -assistance, the lady so far relented as to suggest "Seener Angler"--a -form of address which, though neither bovine nor feminine, seemed to me -to come naturally enough from the daughter of a Don, but caused Mr. and -Mrs. Welwyn to exchange glances. - -At last the tale was completed,--I think the last cow was christened -"Bishop's Stortford," through which station we were passing at the -moment,--and the exhausted Freak smilingly laid down his pencil. But no -one who has ever embarked upon that most comprehensive and interminable -of enterprises, the entertainment of a child, will be surprised to hear -that Miss Welwyn now laid a pudgy fore-finger upon the first cow, and -enquired:-- - -"Where _that_ cow going?" - -"Cambridge," answered The Freak after consideration. - -"Next one?" - -"London." - -"Next one?" - -Freak thought again. - -"Grandwich," he said. - -The round face puckered. - -"Not like it. Anuvver place!" - -"You think of one," said The Freak boldly. - -The small despot promptly named a locality which sounded like -"Tumpiton," and passed on pitilessly to the next cow. - -"Where _that_ one going?" she enquired. - -"It is n't going: it's coming back," replied The Freak, rather -ingeniously. - -Strange to say, this answer appeared to satisfy the hitherto insatiable -infant, and the game was abruptly abandoned. Picking up The Freak's -pencil, Miss Welwyn projected a seraphic smile upon its owner. - -"You give this to Tilly?" she enquired, in a voice which most men know. - -"Rather." - -"Tilly, ducky, don't act so greedy," came the inevitable maternal -correction. "Give back the young gentleman--" - -"It's all right," said The Freak awkwardly. "I don't want it, really." - -"But--" - -There came a shriek from the engine, and the train slowed down. - -"Is this where they collect tickets, father?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, -breaking off suddenly. - -Mr. Welwyn nodded, and his wife rather hurriedly plucked her daughter -from her seat beside The Freak and transferred her to her own lap, to -that damsel's unfeigned dolour. - -"Sit on mother's knee just now, dearie," urged Mrs. Welwyn--"just for a -minute or two!" - -Miss Welwyn, who appeared to be a biddable infant, settled down without -further objection. A moment later the train stopped and the carriage -door was thrown open. - -"Tickets, please!" - -Mr. Welwyn and I sat next the door, and I accordingly submitted my -ticket for inspection. It was approved and returned to me by the -collector, an austere person with what Charles Surface once described as -"a damned disinheriting countenance." - -"Change next stop," he remarked. "Yours, sir?" - -Mr. Welwyn handed him three tickets. The collector appeared to count -them. Then his gloomy gaze fell upon the unconscious Miss Welwyn, who -from the safe harbourage of her mother's arms was endeavouring to -administer to him what is technically known, I believe, as The Glad Eye. - -"Have you a ticket for that child, madam?" he enquired. "Too old to be -carried." - -Mrs. Welwyn looked helplessly at her husband, who replied for her. - -"Yes, surely. Did n't I give it to you, my man?" - -"No, sir," said the collector dryly; "you did not." - -Mr. Welwyn began to feel in his pockets. - -"That is uncommonly stupid of me," he said. "I must have it somewhere. -I thought I put them all in one pocket." - -He pursued his researches further, and the collector waited grimly. I -looked at Mrs. Welwyn. She was an honest woman, and a fleeting glance at -her face informed me that the search for this particular ticket was to -be of a purely academic description. - -"I must trouble you," began the man, "for--" - -"It must be somewhere!" persisted Mr. Welwyn, with unruffled -cheerfulness. "Perhaps I dropped it on the floor." - -"Let _me_ look!" - -Next moment The Freak, who had been a silent spectator of the scene, -dropped upon his knees and dived under the seat. The collector, -obviously sceptical, fidgeted impatiently and stepped back on to the -platform, as if to look for an inspector. I saw an appealing glance -pass from Mrs. Welwyn to her husband. He smiled back airily, and I -realised that probably this comedy had been played once or twice before. - -The collector reappeared. - -"The fare," he began briskly, "is--" - -"Here's the ticket," announced a muffled voice from beneath the seat, -and The Freak, crimson and dusty, emerged from the depths flourishing a -green pasteboard slip. - -The collector took it from his hand and examined it carefully. - -"All right," he snapped. "Now your own, sir." - -The Freak dutifully complied. At the sight of his ticket the -collector's morose countenance lightened almost to the point of -geniality. He was not to go empty away after all. - -"Great Northern ticket. Not available on this line," he announced. - -"It's all right, old man," explained my fag affably. "I changed from -the Great Northern at Peterborough. This line of yours is so much -jollier," he added soothingly. - -"Six-and-fourpence," said the collector. - -The Freak, who was well endowed with pocket-money even at the end of -term, complied with the utmost cheerfulness; asked for a receipt; -expressed an earnest hope that the collector's real state of health -belied his appearance; and resumed his corner-seat with a friendly nod -of farewell. - -Two minutes later this curious episode was at an end, and the train was -swinging on its way to London. Mrs. Welwyn, looking puzzled and -ashamed, sat silently in her corner; Mr. Welwyn, who was not the man to -question the workings of Providence when Providence worked the right -way, hummed a cheerful little tune in his. The deplorable child Percy -slept. The Freak, with a scarlet face, industriously perused a -newspaper. - -As for Miss Tilly Welwyn, she sat happily upon a suitcase on the floor, -still engaged in making unmaidenly eyes at the quixotic young gentleman -who had just acted, not for the last time in his life, as her banker. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - IO SATURNALIA! - - I - - -Presently my turn came. - -A small, spectacled, and entirely inarticulate gentleman in a very long -gown, after a last glance to assure himself that my coat was -sufficiently funereal and my trousers not turned up, took my hand in -his; and we advanced mincingly, after the manner of partners in a -country dance, over the tesselated pavement of the Senate House until we -halted before the resplendent figure of the Vice-Chancellor. - -Here my little companion delivered himself of a hurried and perfunctory -harangue, in a language which I took to be Latin, but may for all I know -have been Esperanto. The Vice-Chancellor muttered a response which I -could not catch; impelled by an unseen power, I knelt before him and -placed my two hands between his: an indistinct benediction fell from his -lips, gently tickling my overheated scalp; and lo! the deed was done. I -rose to my feet a Master of Arts of Cambridge University, at the -trifling outlay of some twenty pounds odd. - -Thereafter, by means of what the drill-book calls a "right-incline," I -slunk unobtrusively past two sardonic-looking gentlemen in white bands, -and escaped through the open north door into the cool solitude of Senate -House Passage, and ultimately into Trinity Street. - -I walked straight into the arms of my friend The Freak--The Freak in cap -and gown, twenty-two years of age, and in his last year at the -University. - -"Hallo, Tiny!" was his joyous greeting. "This is topping!" - -"Hallo, Freak!" I replied, shaking hands. "You got my wire, then?" - -"Yes, what are you up for? I presume it is a case of one more shot at -the General Examination for the B.A. Degree--what?" - -I explained coldly that I had been receiving the Degree of Master of -Arts. - -"As a senior member of the University," I added severely, "I believe it -is my duty to report you to the Proctors for smoking while in academic -dress." - -Freak's repartee was to offer me a cigarette. - -"Let us take a walk down Trinity Street," he continued. "I have to go -and see The Tut." - -"Who?" - -"My Tutor. Don't get fossilised all at once, old thing!" - -I apologised. - -"What are you going to see him about?" I enquired. "Been sent down?" - -"No. I am going to get leave to hold a dinner-party consisting of more -than four persons," replied my friend, quoting pedantically from the -College Statute which seeks (vainly) to regulate the convivial -tendencies of the undergraduate. - -"Ah," I remarked airily--"quite so! For my part, such rules no longer -apply to me." - -Fatal vaunt! Next moment Dicky was frantically embracing me before all -Trinity Street. - -"Brave heart," he announced, "this is providential! You are a godsend--a -_deus ex machina_--a little cherub sent from aloft! It never occurred -to me: I need not go to The Tut for leave at all now! It would have -been a forlorn hope in any case. But now all is well. _You_ shall come -to the dinner. In fact, you shall _give_ it! Then no Tut in the world -can interfere. Come along, host and honoured guest! Come and see Wicky -about it!" - -As The Freak hustled me down All Saints' Passage, I enquired plaintively -who Mr. Wicky might be. - -"Wickham is his name," replied The Freak. "He is nominally giving the -dinner. We are going to--" - -"Pardon me," I interposed. "How many people _are_ nominally giving this -dinner? So far, we have you, Wicky, and myself. I--" - -"It's this way," explained my friend. "Wicky is nominally the host; he -will do the honours. But I have dropped out. The dinner will be ordered -in your name now. That's all." - -"Why is Wicky nominally the host?" I enquired, still befogged. - -"We are all giving the dinner--seven of us," explained The Freak; "all -except yourself and The Jebber, in fact. Wicky has to be host because -he is the only man who is not going to the dinner disguised as some one -else. Now, do you understand?" - -"There are one or two minor points," I remarked timidly, "which--" - -"Go ahead!" sighed my friend. - -"Who," I enquired, "is The Jebber? And why should he share with me the -privilege of not paying for his dinner?" - -The Freak became suddenly serious. - -"The Jebber," he said, "is a poisonous growth called Jebson. He is in -his first year. He owns bags of money, which he squanders in the wrong -manner on every occasion. He runs after Blues and other celebrities, -but has never caught one yet. On the other hand, he is rude to porters -and bedmakers. He gathers unto himself bands of admiring smugs and -tells them of the fast life he lives in town. He plays no games of any -kind, except a little billiards with the marker, but he buttonholes you -outside Hall in the evening and tells you how much he has won by backing -the winner of the three o'clock race by wire. I think he has a kind of -vague notion that he is sowing wild oats; but as he seems quite -incapable of speaking the truth, I have no idea whether he is the -vicious young mug he makes himself out to be or is merely endeavouring -to impress us yokels. That is the sort of customer The Jebber is." - -"And you have invited him to dinner?" I said. - -"Yes; it's like this. We stood him as well as we could for quite a long -while. Then, one evening, he turned up in my rooms when half a dozen of -us were there--he is on my staircase, and I had rashly called upon him -his first term--and after handing out a few fairy tales about his -triumphs as a lady's man, he pulled a photograph from his pocket and -passed it round. It was a girl--a jolly pretty girl, too! He said he -was engaged to her. Said it as if--" The Freak's honest face grew -suddenly hot, and his fingers bit ferociously into my arm. "Well, he -began to talk about her. Said she was 'fearfully mashed on him!' That -fairly turned our stomachs to begin with, but there was more to come. -He confided to us that she was a dear little thing, but not quite up to -his form; and he did n't intend to marry her until he had sown a few -more of his rotten wild oats. And so on. That settled me, Tiny! So -far I had not been so fierce about him as the other men. I had -considered him just a harmless bounder, who would tone down when he got -into the ways of the place. But a fellow who would talk like that before -a roomful of men about a girl--his own girl--My God, Tiny! what would -you do with such a thing?" - -"Kill it," I said simply. - -"That's what we nearly did, on the spot," said Dicky. "But--well--one -feels a delicacy about even taking notice of that sort of stuff. You -understand?" - -I nodded. The reserve of the youthful male on affairs of the heart is -much deeper than that of the female, though the female can never -recognise the fact. - -"So we simply sat still, feeling we should like to be sick. Then the -man Jebson gave himself a respite and us an idea by going on to talk of -his social ambitions. He confided to us that he had come up here to -form influential friendships--with athletic bloods, future statesmen, -sons of peers, and so forth. He explained that it was merely a matter -of money. All he wanted was a start. As soon as the athletes and peers -heard of him and his wealth, they would be only too pleased to hobnob -with him. Suddenly old Wicky, who had been sitting in the corner -absolutely mum, as usual, asked him straight off to come and dine with -him, and said he would get a few of the most prominent men in the -'Varsity to come and meet him. We simply gaped at first, but presently -we saw there was some game on; and when The Jebber had removed himself, -Wicky explained what he wanted us to do. He's a silent bird, Wicky, but -he thinks a lot. Here are his digs." - -We had reached a house in Jesus Lane, which we now entered, ascending to -the first floor. - -Dicky rapidly introduced me to Mr. Wickham, who had just finished -luncheon. He proved to be a young gentleman of diminutive stature and -few words, in a Leander tie. He was, it appeared, a coxswain of high -degree, and was only talkative when afloat. Then, one learned, he was a -terror. It was credibly reported that on one occasion a freshman rowing -bow in a trial eight, of a sensitive temperament and privately educated, -had burst into tears and tried to throw away his oar after listening to -Mr. Wickham's blistering comments upon the crew in general and himself -in particular during a particularly unsteady half-minute round Grassy -Corner. - -He silently furnished us with cigarettes, and my somewhat unexpected -inclusion in the coming revels was explained to him. - -"Good egg!" he remarked, when Dicky had finished. "Go round to the -kitchen presently. Have dinner in these rooms, Freak. May be awkward -for the men to get into College all togged up." - -"You see the idea now, Tiny?" said Dicky to me. "Wicky is going to be -host, and the rest of us are going to dress up as influential young -members of the University. We shall pull The Jebber's leg right off!" - -"Do you think you will be able to keep up your assumed characters all -dinner-time?" I asked. "You know what sometimes happens towards the end -of--" - -"That's all right," said The Freak. "We are n't going to keep it up -right to the end. At a given signal we shall unveil." - -"What then?" I enquired, not without concern. - -"We shall hold a sort of court martial. After that I don't quite know -what we will do, but we ought to be able to think of something pretty -good by then," replied The Freak confidently. - -Mr. Wickham summed up the situation. - -"The man Jebson," he said briefly, "must die." - -"What character are you going to assume?" I enquired of The Freak. -"Athlete, politician, peer, scholar--?" - -"I am the Marquis of Puddox," said my friend, with simple dignity. - -"Only son," added Mr. Wickham, "of the Duke of Damsillie. Scotland for -ever!" - -"A Highlander?" I asked. - -"Yes," said The Freak gleefully. "I am going to wear a red beard and -talk Gaelic." - -"Who are to be the other--inmates?" I asked. - -"You'll see when the time comes," replied Dicky. "At present we have to -decide on a part for you, my lad." - -"I think I had better be Absent Friends," I said. "Then I need not -come, but you can drink my health." - -Mr. Wickham said nothing, but rose to his feet and crossed the room to -the mantelpiece. On the corner of the mirror which surmounted it hung a -red Turkish fez, with a long black tassel. This my host reached down -and handed to me. - -"Wear that," he said briefly--"with your ordinary evening things." - -"What shall I be then?" I enquired meekly. - -"Junior Egyptologist to the Fitzwilliam Museum," replied the fertile Mr. -Wickham. - - - - II - - -That shrinking but helpless puppet, the Junior Egyptologist to the -Fitzwilliam Museum, duly presented himself at Mr. Wickham's at -seven-thirty that evening, surmounted by the fez. - -Here I was introduced to the guest of the evening, Mr. Jebson. He was a -pasty-faced, pig-eyed youth of about four-and-twenty, in an -extravagantly cut dress suit with a velvet collar. He wore a diamond -ring and a soft shirt. He looked like an unsuccessful compromise -between a billiard-marker and a casino croupier at a French -watering-place. His right forefinger was firmly embedded in the -buttonhole of a shaggy monster in a kilt, whom, from the fact that he -spoke a language which I recognised as that of Mr. Harry Lauder, I took -to be the heir of the Duke of Damsillie. - -The Freak was certainly playing his part as though he enjoyed it, but -the other celebrities, who stood conversing in a sheepish undertone in -various corners, looked too like stage conspirators to be entirely -convincing. However, Mr. Jebson appeared to harbour no suspicion as to -the _bona fides_ of the company in which he found himself, which was the -main point. - -I was now introduced to the President of the Cambridge University Boat -Club, a magnificent personage in a made-up bow tie of light-blue satin; -to the Sultan of Cholerabad, a coffee-coloured potentate in sweeping -Oriental robes, in whom the dignity that doth hedge a king was less -conspicuous than a thoroughly British giggle; and to the Senior Wrangler -of the previous year, who wore a turn-down collar, trousers the -bagginess of which a music-hall comedian would have envied, and blue -spectacles. - -Mesmerised by Mr. Wickham's cold eye and correct deportment, we greeted -one another with stately courtesy: but the President of the Boat Club -winked at me cheerfully; the Sultan of Cholerabad, scrutinising my fez, -enquired in broken English the exact date of my escape from the -cigarette factory; and the Senior Wrangler invited my opinion, _sotto -voce_, upon the cut of his trousers. - -In a distant corner of the room, which was very dimly lighted,--probably -for purposes of theatrical effect,--I descried two more guests--uncanny -figures both. One was a youth in semi-clerical attire, with short -trousers and white cotton socks, diligently exercising what is best -described as a Private Secretary voice upon his companion, a -scarlet-faced gentleman in an exaggerated hunting-kit--horn and all. -The latter I identified (rightly) as The Master of the University -Bloodhounds, but I was at a loss to assign a character to The Private -Secretary. I learned during the evening, from his own lips, that he was -the Assistant Professor of Comparative Theology. - -The party was completed by the arrival of a stout young gentleman with a -strong German accent and fluffy hair. He was presented to us as The -Baron Guldenschwein. (He actually was a Baron, as it turned out, but -not a German. However, he possessed a strong sense of humour--a more -priceless possession than sixty-four quarterings or a castle on the -Rhine.) - -Dinner was announced, and we took our places. Wickham sat at the head of -the table, with Mr. Jebson on his right and the Marquis of Puddox on his -left. I took the foot, supported on either hand by the President of the -Boat Club and the Assistant Professor of Comparative Theology. The other -four disposed themselves in the intervening places, the Sultan taking -his seat upon Jebson's right, with the Baron opposite. - -The dinner was served in the immaculate fashion customary at -undergraduate feasts and other functions where long-suffering parents -loom in the background with cheque-books. The table decorations had -obviously been selected upon the principle that what is most expensive -must be best, and each guest was confronted with a much beribboned menu -with his title printed upon it. Champagne, at the covert but urgent -representation of the Assistant Professor of Comparative Theology, was -served with the _hors d'oeuvres_. - -At first we hardly lived up to our costumes. A practical joke which -begins upon an empty stomach does not usually speed from the mark. -Fortunately The Freak, who was not as other men are in these matters, -had entered upon his night's work at the very top of his form, and he -gave us all an invaluable lead. The fish found him standing with one -foot upon the table, pledging Mr. Jebson in language which may have been -Gaelic, but more nearly resembled the baying of one of the University -bloodhounds. This gave us courage, and presently the Assistant -Theologian and the M.B.H. abandoned a furtive interchange of Rugby -football "shop" and entered into a heated discussion with the Senior -Wrangler upon certain drastic alterations which, apparently, the -mathematical savants of the day contemplated making in the -multiplication table. - -I devoted my attention chiefly to observing the masterly fashion in -which The Freak and the saturnine Mr. Wickham handled Jebson. The -latter was without doubt a most unpleasant creature. The undergraduate -tolerates and, too often, admires the vicious individual who is reputed -to be a devil of a fellow. Still, that individual usually has some -redeeming qualities. In the ordinary way of business he probably pulls -an oar and shoves in the scrimmage as heartily as his neighbour: his -recourses to riotous living are in the nature of reaction from these -strenuous pursuits. They arise less from a desire to pose as a man of -the world than from sheer weakness of the flesh. He is not in the least -proud of them: indeed, like the rest of us, he is usually very repentant -afterwards. And above all, he observes a decent reticence about his -follies. He regards them as liabilities, not assets; and therein lies -the difference between him and creatures of the Jebson type. Jebson -took no part in clean open-air enthusiasms: he had few moments of -reckless self-abandonment: to him the serious business of life was the -methodical establishment of a reputation as a _viveur_. He sought to -excite the admiration of his fellows by the recital of his exploits in -what he called "the world." Such, naturally, were conspicuous neither -for reticence nor truth. He was a pitiful transparent fraud, and I felt -rather surprised, as I considered the elaborate nature of the present -scheme for his discomfiture, that the tolerant easy-going crew who sat -round the table should have thought the game worth the candle. I began -to feel rather sorry for Jebson. After all, he was not the only noxious -insect in the University. Then I remembered the story of the girl's -photograph, and I understood. It was an ill day for The Jebber, I -reflected, when he spoke lightly of his lady-love in the presence of -Dicky Mainwaring. - -The banquet ran its course. Presently dessert was placed upon the table -and the waiters withdrew. The Sultan of Cholerabad, I noticed, had -mastered the diffidence which had characterised his behaviour during the -earlier stages of the proceedings, and was now joining freely in the -conversation at the head of the table. I overheard Mr. Jebson extending -to him a cordial invitation to come up with him to town at the end of -the term and be introduced to a galaxy of music-hall stars, jockeys, and -bookmakers--an invitation which had already been deferentially accepted -by Mr. Wickham and the Marquis of Puddox. In return, the Sultan -announced that the harem at Cholerabad was open to inspection by select -parties of visitors on Tuesdays and Thursdays, on presentation of -visiting-card. - -The spirits of the party in general were now rising rapidly, and more -than once the tranquillity of the proceedings was seriously imperilled. -After the Baron Guldenschwein had been frustrated in an attempt to -recite an ode in praise of the Master of the Bloodhounds (on the -somewhat inadequate grounds that "I myself wear always bogskin boods"), -our nominal host found himself compelled to cope with the Assistant -Professor of Comparative Theology, who, rising unsteadily to his legs, -proclaimed his intention of giving imitations of a few celebrated -actors, beginning with Sir Henry Irving. The Theologian was in a -condition which rendered censure and argument equally futile. He had -consumed perhaps half a bottle of champagne and two glasses of port, so -it was obvious that his present exalted condition was due not so much to -the depths of his potations as to the shallowness of his accommodation -for the same. I for one, having drunk at least as much as he and -feeling painfully decorous, forbore to judge him. The rest of the -company were sober enough, but leniently disposed, and our theological -friend was allowed his way. He threw himself into a convulsive -attitude, mouthed out an entirely unintelligible limerick about a young -man from Patagonia, and sat down abruptly, well pleased with his -performance. - -Then came an ominous silence. The time for business was at hand. Mr. -Jebson, still impervious to atmospheric influence, selected this moment -for weaving his own shroud. He rose to his feet and made a speech. He -addressed us as "fellow-sports"; he referred to Mr. Wickham as "our -worthy Chair," and to myself as "our young friend Mr. Vice." The -company as a whole he designated "hot stuff." After expressing, with -evident sincerity, the pleasure with which he found himself in his -present company, he revealed to us the true purport of his uprising, -which was to propose the toast of "The Girls." Under the circumstances -a more unfortunate selection of subject could not have been made. The -speaker had barely concluded his opening sentence when the Marquis of -Puddox, speaking in his natural tone of voice, rose to his feet and -brought what promised to be a rather nauseous eulogy to a summary -conclusion. - -"Dry up," he rapped out, "and sit down at once. Clear the table, you -fellows, and get the tablecloth off." - -Without further ado the distinguished company present, with the -exception of the Theologian, who had retired into a corner by himself to -rehearse an imitation, obeyed Dicky's behest. The decanters and glasses -were removed to the sideboard, and the cloth was whipped off. - -"Take this loathsome sweep," continued the Marquis in the same -dispassionate voice, indicating the guest of the evening, now as white -as his own shirt-front, "and tie him up with table-napkins." - -The dazed Jebson offered no resistance. Presently he found himself -lying flat on his back upon the table, his arms and legs pinioned by Mr. -Wickham's table-linen. - -"Roll him up in the tablecloth," was The Freak's next order, "and set -him on a chair." - -This time Jebson found his tongue. - -"Gentlemen all," he gasped between revolutions--the Master of the -Bloodhounds and Baron Guldenschwein were swiftly converting him into a -snowy cocoon--"a joke's all very well in its way between pals; but--" - -"Put him on that chair," continued Dicky, taking not the slightest -notice. - -Willing hands dumped the mummified and inanimate form of Jebson into an -armchair, and the unique collection of Sports sat round him in a ring. - -Then suddenly Dicky laughed. - -"That's all, Jebson," he said. "We are n't going to do anything else -with you. You are not worth it." - -Mr. Jebson, who had been expecting the Death by a Thousand Cuts at the -very least, merely gaped like a stranded carp. He was utterly -demoralised. To a coward, fear of pain is worse than pain itself. - -Dicky continued:-- - -"We merely want to inform you that we think you are not suited to -University life. The great world without is calling you. You are -wasted here: in fact, you have been a bit of a failure. You mean well, -but you are lacking in perception. There is too much Ego in your -Cosmos. Napoleon, you will remember, suffered from the same infirmity. -For nearly two terms you have deluded yourself into the belief that we -think you a devil of a fellow. We have sat and listened politely to -your reminiscences: we have permitted you to refer to all the Strand -loafers that one has ever heard of by their pet names. And all the time -you have entirely failed to realise that we see through you. For a -while you rather amused us, but now we are fed up with you. You are -getting the College a bad name, too. We are not a very big College, but -we are a very old and very proud one, and we have always kept our end up -against larger and less particular establishments. So I'm afraid we must -part with you. You are too high for us. That is all, I think. Would -any one else like to say anything?" - -"Are n't we going to toy with him a little?" asked the Senior Wrangler. -"We might bastinado him, or shave one side of his head." - -But Dicky would have none of it. - -"Too childish," he said. "We will just leave him as he is, and finish -our evening. Then he can go home and pack his carpet-bag. But"--The -Freak turned suddenly and savagely upon the gently perspiring -Jebson--"let me give you one hint, my lad. Never again mention ladies' -names before a roomful of men, or, by God, you'll get a lesson from some -one some day that you will remember to the end of your life! That is -all. I have finished. The Committee for Dealing with Public Nuisances -is dissolved. Let us--" - -"I will now," suddenly remarked a confidential but slightly vinous voice -from the other end of the room, "have great pleasure in giving you an -imitation of Mr. Beerbohm Tree." - -And the Assistant Professor of Comparative Theology, who had been -neglecting the rôle of avenging angel in order to prime himself at the -sideboard for another excursion into the realms of mimetic art, struck -exactly the same attitude as before, and began to mouth out, with -precisely similar intonation and gesture, the limerick which had already -done duty in the case of Sir Henry Irving. - -After this the proceedings degenerated rapidly into a "rag" of the most -ordinary and healthy type. The company, having dined, had ceased to -feel vindictive, and The Freak's admirably appropriate handling of the -situation met with their entire appreciation. With relief they -proceeded from labour to recreation. Mr. Jebson was unceremoniously -bundled into a corner; some one opened Mr. Wickham's piano, and in two -minutes an impromptu dance was in full swing. I first found myself -involved in an extravagant perversion of the Lancers, danced by the -entire strength of the company with the exception of Baron -Guldenschwein, who presided at the piano. After this the Theologian, -amid prolonged cries of dissent, gave another imitation--I think it was -of Sarah Bernhardt--which was terminated by a happy suggestion of -Dicky's that the entertainer should be "forcibly fed"--an overripe -banana being employed as the medium of nourishment. Then the Baron -struck up "The Eton Boating Song." Next moment I found myself (under -strict injunctions to remember that I was "lady") waltzing madly round -in the embrace of the Senior Wrangler, dimly wondering whether the rôle -of battering-ram which I found thrust upon me during the next ten -minutes was an inevitable one for all female partners, and if so, why -girls ever went to balls. - -Presently my partner suggested a rest, and having propped me with -exaggerated gallantry against the window-ledge, took off his dickey and -fanned me with it. - -After that we played "Nuts in May." - -The fun grew more uproarious. Each man was enjoying himself with that -priceless _abandon_ which only youth can confer, little recking that -with the passing of a very few years he would look back from the -world-weary heights of, say, twenty-five, upon such a memory as this -with pained and incredulous amazement. Later still, say at forty, he -would look back again, and the retrospect would warm his heart. For the -present, however, our warmth was of a purely material nature, and the -only Master of Arts present mopped his streaming brow and felt glad that -he was alive. To a man who has worked without a holiday for three years -either in a drawing-office or an engineering-shop in South London, an -undergraduate riot of the most primitive description is not without its -points. - -"The Eton Boating Song" is an infectious measure: in a short time we -were all singing as well as dancing. The floor trembled: the chandelier -rattled: the windows shook: Jesus Lane quaked. - - "Swing, swing, together," - -we roared, - - "With your bodies between your--" - - -_Crash!_ - -The flowing tartan plaid which adorned the shoulders of the scion of the -house of Damsillie had spread itself abroad, and, encircling in a -clinging embrace the trussed and pinioned form of the much-enduring -Jebson, had whipped him from his stool of penance and caused him, from -no volition of his own, to join the glad throng of waltzers, much as a -derelict tree-trunk joins a whirlpool. In a trice the Assistant -Professor of Comparative Theology and the President of the University -Boat Club, who were performing an intricate reversing movement at the -moment, tripped heavily backwards over his prostrate form, while the -Most Noble the Marquis of Puddox (and lady), brought up in full career -by the stoutly resisting plaid, fell side by side upon the field. The -Senior Wrangler and the Junior Egyptologist, whirling like dervishes, -topped the heap a moment later. The Baron Guldenschwein and the Master -of the Bloodhounds leavened the whole lump. - -My head struck the floor with a dull thud. Simultaneously some one (I -think it was the Senior Wrangler) put his foot into my left ear. Even at -this excruciating moment I remember reflecting that it would be a -difficult matter, after this, to maintain a distant or stand-offish -attitude towards the gentleman who at this moment was acting as the -foundation-stone of our pyramid. - -The music ceased, with a suddenness that suggested musical chairs, and I -was aware of an ominous silence. Disengaging my neck from the embrace -of a leg clad in a baggy silk trousering,--evidently it belonged to the -Sultan: how he got into that galley I have no conception, for he had -recently relieved the Baron at the piano,--I struggled to my hands and -knees and crawled out of the turmoil upon the floor. - -Set amid the constellation of stars which still danced round my ringing -head, I beheld a sleek but burly gentleman in sober black, silk hat in -hand, standing in the doorway. He was a University bull-dog. We were -in the clutches of the Law. - -"Proctor's compliments, gentlemen, and will the gentleman what these -rooms belong to kindly step--" - -It was a familiar formula. Wickham, who had struggled to his feet, -answered at once:-- - -"All right; I'll come down. Wait till I put my collar on. Is the -Proctor downstairs?" - -"Yes, sir," said the man. - -"Who is it?" - -"Mr. Sandeman, sir." - -"Sandy? Golly!" commented Mr. Wickham, swiftly correcting the disorder -of his array. Several people whistled lugubriously. Wickham turned to -Dicky. - -"I'll go down," he said. "You sort out those chaps on the floor." - -He disappeared with the bull-dog, leaving Dicky and myself to -disintegrate the happy heap of arms and legs upon the carpet. -Ultimately we uncovered our foundation-stone, black in the face, but -resigned. We unrolled his winding-sheet, cut his bonds, and were -administering first aid of a hearty but unscientific description when -there was a cry from Dicky-- - -"Ducker, you young fool, where are you going to?" - -Ducker, it appeared, was the real name of the Assistant Theologian. (As -a matter of fact, it was Duckworth.) He was already at the door. -Finding his exit detected, he drew himself up with an air of rather -precarious dignity, and replied:-- - -"I am going to speak to Sandy." - -"What for?" - -"Sandy," explained Mr. Ducker rapidly, "has never seen my imitation of -George Alexander as the Prisoner of Zenda. He has got to have it now!" - -Next moment the persevering pantomimist had disappeared, and we heard -him descending the stairs in a series of kangaroo-like leaps. - -"Come on, Bill," said Dicky to me. "We must follow him quick, or there -will be trouble." - -We raced downstairs into the entrance-hall. The open doorway framed the -dishevelled figure of Mr. Duckworth. He was calling aloud the name of -one Sandy, beseeching him to behold George Alexander. Outside in the -gloom of Jesus Lane we beheld Mr. Wickham arguing respectfully with a -majestic figure in a black gown, white bands, and baleful spectacles. -With a sinking heart I recognised one of the two saturnine clerical -gentlemen in whose presence I had been presented for my M.A. degree only -a few hours before. - -"Sandy, old son," bellowed Mr. Duckworth perseveringly, "be a sportsman -and look at me a minute!" He was now out upon the doorstep, posturing. -"Flavia! Fla-a-a-via!" he yowled. - -"It's no good our pulling him back into the house," said Dicky, "or -Sandy will have him for certain. Let's rush him down the street, and -hide somewhere." - -Next moment, with a hand upon each of the histrionic Theologian's -shoulders, we were flying down Jesus Lane. Behind us thundered the feet -of one of the minions of the Reverend Hugo Sandeman. (The other had -apparently been retained to guard the door.) Mr. Duckworth, suddenly -awake to the reality of the situation and enjoying himself hugely, -required no propulsion. In fact, he was soon towing us--so fast that -Dicky, encumbered by his chieftain's costume, and I, who had not -sprinted for three years, had much ado to hold on to him. The bull-dog, -who was corpulent and more than middle-aged, presently fell behind. - -It was raining slightly and there were not many people about, for it was -close on ten o'clock. We emerged at the double from Jesus Lane into -Sidney Street, and dashed down the first available opening. It brought -us into a narrow alley--one of the innumerable "passages" with which -Cambridge is honeycombed. Here we halted and listened intently. - - - - III - - -Having now leisure to review the incredible sequence of events which had -resulted in my being hounded through the streets of Cambridge by the -University authorities,--when by University law I should have been one -of the hounds,--in company with two undergraduates, one attired as a -sort of burlesque Rob Roy and the other in a state of more than doubtful -sobriety, I embarked upon a series of gloomy but useless reflections -upon my imbecility. My only consolation was derived from the knowledge -that I no longer wore the insignia of the Junior Egyptologist, having -mislaid that accursed ornament in the course of the evening's revels. - -My meditations were interrupted by the voice of The Freak. - -"What shall we do next?" he enquired, with great gusto. - -"Go home," said I, without hesitation. - -"How?" - -"Straight on: this passage must lead somewhere." - -"Does it? Have you ever been down it before?" - -"I can't remember; but--" - -"Well, I have, and it does n't lead anywhere, young feller-my-lad. -That's why that blamed bull-dog of Sandy's has n't followed us up -harder. He knows he has got us on toast. I expect they 're all waiting -for us at the mouth of this rat-hole now." - -Certainly we were in a tight corner. But even now The Freak's amazing -resource did not fail him. We were standing at the moment outside a -building of rather forbidding aspect, which had the appearance of a -parish institute. The windows of one of the rooms on the ground-floor -were brightly lighted, and even as we looked a large podgy young man, of -the Sunday-School superintendent type, appeared on the front steps. We -feigned absorption in a large printed notice which stood outside the -door. - -The podgy man addressed us. - -"Are you coming in, gentlemen? You'll find it worth your while. The -professor is only just 'ere, 'avin' missed 'is train from King's Cross; -so we are goin' to begin at once." He spoke in the honeyed--not to say -oily--accents of a certain type of "townee" who sees a chance of making -something out of a 'Varsity man, and his conversation was naturally -addressed to me. My two companions kept modestly in the shadows. "First -lecture free to all," continued the podgy young man, smiling invitingly. -"Members of the University specially welcomed." - -At this moment The Freak emerged into the full glare of the electric -light, and nudged me meaningly in the ribs. - -"I have two friends with me," I said--"one from Scotland--er--the North -of Scotland. I am taking them for an after-dinner stroll, to view the -Colleges, and--er--so on." - -"All are welcome," repeated the young man faintly, gazing in a dazed -fashion at the Marquis of Puddox. "Step inside." - -What we were in for we did not know. But it was a case of any port in a -storm, and we all three allowed ourselves to be shepherded into a room -containing some fifteen people, who, to judge by the state of the -atmosphere, had been there some time. Our entrance caused an obvious -flutter, and distracted the attention of the room from a diminutive -foreigner in a frayed frock-coat, with a little pointed beard and -pathetic brown eyes, who was sitting nervously on the edge of a chair, -endeavouring to look collected under the blighting influence of a good -honest British stare. The three newcomers at once retired to the only -unoccupied corner of the room, where it was observed that the clerical -member of the party immediately adopted a somewhat unconventional -attitude and composed himself to slumber. - -At this point the podgy young man, who appeared to be the secretary of -the club,--some society for mutual improvement,--rose to his feet and -announced that he had great pleasure in introducing "the professor" to -the company. Apparently we were to have a French lesson. We had arrived -just in time for the opening ceremony, which we might enjoy free gratis -and for nothing; but if we desired to come again--a highly improbable -contingency, I thought--we were at liberty to do so every Thursday -evening throughout the quarter, at a fee of one guinea. - -"I think, gentlemen," concluded the secretary, "that you will find your -money 'as been well laid out. We 'ave very 'igh reports of the -professor's abilities, and I am glad to see that the fame of 'is -teaching 'as been sufficient to attract a member of the University here -to-night." - -At this he bowed deferentially in our direction, and there was some -faint applause. To my horror Dicky promptly rose to his feet, and, -returning the podgy young man's bow, delivered himself in a resonant -Gaelic whinny of the following outrageous flight of fancy:-- - -"Hech-na hoch-na hoy ah hoo!" - -As delivered, I am bound to admit that it sounded like a perfectly -genuine expression of Celtic fervour. Dicky sat down, amid an -interested murmur, and whispered hurriedly to me:-- - -"Interpret, old soul!" - -I rose miserably to my feet. - -"My friend," I announced, wondering dimly how long it would be before -the podgy young man and his satellites uprose and cast us forth, "has -replied to your very kind welcome by a quotation from one of his -national poets,--er, Ossian,--which, roughly translated, means that, -however uncouth his exterior may be, he never forgets a kindness!" - -Which was rather good, I think. - -There was more applause, which had the disastrous effect of rousing Mr. -Duckworth from his slumbers. Finding that every one present was -clapping his hands and looking in his direction, he struggled to his -feet. - -"Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen," he began cheerfully, "in response -to your most flattering encore I shall have great pleasure, with your -attention and permission, in givin' you my celebrated imitation"--here -he began to stiffen into the old familiar epileptic attitude--"of Sir -George Irving--" - -We drew him down, as gently as possible, into his seat, and the -secretary, slightly disconcerted, called upon the lecturer to begin. - -The professor rose, and having bowed gallantly to the secretary's wife, -the only lady present,--a courtesy which was acknowledged by that young -woman, with true British politeness, by a convulsive giggle,--proceeded, -in language which betrayed the fact that although he might be able to -teach French he could not pronounce English, to explain his _modus -operandi_. He proposed, we discovered, to describe in his own tongue -some familiar scene of everyday life, suiting his action to the word, -and laying his hand, whenever possible, upon the objects mentioned in -his discourse, in order to assist us in grasping his meaning. - -"_Par exemple_," he explained, "if I touch ze 'at of madam, so"--here he -darted across the room and laid a playful finger on the brim of Mrs. -Secretary's rather flamboyant headgear, a familiarity which that paragon -of British propriety greeted with an hysterical "Ow, George!"--"and say -_chapeau_, den you vill onnerstand vat I mean." - -"I doubt it, old son," observed Mr. Duckworth gravely. - -"To-night," continued the professor, who had fortunately been unable to -understand this innuendo, "I vill describe a simple scene zat you all -know--_n'est-ce pas_?" - -Here he struck an attitude, as if to imply that they must be careful not -to miss this bit, and declaimed:-- - -"_Ze postman, 'ow 'e brings ze letters._" - -This announcement was greeted with a stony silence. - -"I tell you ze title," he added in warning tones, "but after now I spik -no more Engleesh." - -"Quite right; I would n't if I were you," remarked Mr. Duckworth -approvingly. - -The professor bowed politely at this commendation from such an exalted -quarter, and plunged into his subject. - -"_Le facteur, comment il apporte les lettres!_" - -The audience, composed exclusively of podgy young men like the -secretary, received this exordium with different degrees of -self-consciousness, after the manner of the Englishman when a foreign -language is spoken in his presence. Some looked extremely knowing, -while others stirred uneasily in their seats, and regarded each other -with shamefaced grins. - -The professor meanwhile had advanced to the window, and was gazing -excitedly out into the darkness. - -"_Regardez le facteur qui s'approche!_" he cried, pointing with his -finger in the direction where I calculated that the Reverend Hugo and -his attendant fiends were probably still waiting for us; "_dans la rue, -là-bas! Il m'apporte peut-être une lettre! Mais de qui? Ah, de--_" -Here he clutched his heart convulsively, evidently bent upon a touch of -humorous sentiment: but a glance at the adamantine countenances of his -audience caused him to change his mind, and he continued, rather -lamely:-- - -"_Je descendrai au rez-de-chaussée. Je m'approche à la porte_--pardon, -m'sieur!" - -The last remark was addressed to Mr. Duckworth, the professor having -stumbled over his legs on his way to the door. The Theologian responded -politely with an imitation of a man drawing a cork, and the -demonstration proceeded. - -"_Je saisis le bouton,_" continued our instructor, convulsively -clutching the door-handle. "_Je tour-r-r-rne le bouton! J'ouvre la -porte! Je m'éloigne dans le corridor_--Oh, pardon, m'sieur! Je vous--" - -He had torn open the door with a flourish and hurled himself into the -passage in faithful pursuance of his system, only to collide heavily and -audibly with some unyielding body outside. - -"Proctor's compliments, sir," said a deep voice, "but if you are in -charge 'ere, will you kindly come and speak to 'im a minute?" - -The Frenchman's answering flood of incomprehensible explanation was cut -short by the secretary, who rose from his seat and hurried out. A few -questions and answers passed between him and the bull-dog, and then we -heard their footsteps dying away in the direction of the front door, -where the Reverend Hugo was doubtless waiting. - -Next moment the company in the room were surprised, and I firmly believe -disappointed, when the three last-joined recruits, after a hurried -glance round the walls as if for a humbler means of exit, rose and -unostentatiously quitted the apartment by the door. - - ---- - -Once in the passage, we turned hastily and blindly to the left, leaving -behind us the front door, which was blocked by an animated group -composed of the secretary, the professor,--what he was doing there I do -not know: perhaps he thought that three more pupils were applying for -admission,--and the larger of the Reverend Hugo's two bull-dogs, while -that avenging angel's voice could be heard uplifted in a stately -harangue outside. - -We scuttled up the passage and dived through the first door that -presented itself, closing and locking it behind us. On turning up the -electric light we found ourselves in a large deserted room, occupied by -two bagatelle tables. It was unfortunately lighted from the roof, which -put escape by the window out of the question. However, at the far end we -spied another door. Through this we rushed, into what appeared to be a -recreation-room, occupied solely by two spectacled gentlemen immersed in -a game of chess. Their surprise when three total strangers, two in -unusual dress and all in an obvious hurry, invaded the privacy of their -apartment, only to make a hasty and undignified exit by the window, must -have been considerable, but we did not stay to observe it. - - - - IV - - -Three weeks later The Freak came up to town for his Easter vacation, and -dined with me at my club, and I heard the end of the tale. - -Nothing very dreadful had happened, it appeared. Mr. Wickham, having -laconically accepted full responsibility for the riot in his rooms, had -been gated at eight for the rest of the term. The fact that I had -ordered the dinner was unknown to the Proctors, and the College cook had -not enlightened them. The identity of the Marquis of Puddox, the Junior -Egyptologist, and the Assistant Professor of Comparative Theology had -never been discovered. - -"So your guilty secret, old thing," concluded Dicky, "is safe. And now -I want to invite you to another function." - -"Thank you," I said gruffly, "but I think not. What sort of function is -it this time?" - -"A wedding," replied Dicky unexpectedly. - -"Great Scott! Yours?" - -"No--The Jebber's! He has grown quite a white man. The little homily -which I took the liberty of delivering to him that evening, coupled with -the very light sentence imposed, quite won his heart, it appears. He -never leaves me now. Eats out of my hand. He is going down at the end -of the May term like a sensible Jebber, and he is to be married to his -girl in June." - -"The girl of the photograph?" - -"Yes. He has quite got over his wild-oats theories, and his girl now -has him completely in hand. I have seen them together, and I know. They -are very happy." - -My romantic friend sighed comfortably, and concluded:-- - -"I have promised to be best man." - -"You?" - -"Yes; he asked me, and one can't decline. You are coming with me, -fellow-sport, to represent the Senior Members of the University!" - -I went. No one ever refuses anything to The Freak. - - - - - BOOK TWO - - A BLIND ALLEY - - - CHAPTER IV - - TRAVELS WITH A FIRST RESERVE - - -I arrived at Shotley Beauchamp (for Widgerley and the Sludyard Valley -Branch) with my heart gradually settling into my boots. - -Most of us--men, not women: a woman, I fancy, provided she knows that -her hat is on straight, is prepared to look the whole world in the face -at any moment--are familiar with the sinking sensation which accompanies -us to the door of a house to which we have been bidden as a guest for -the first time. We foresee ahead of us a long vista of explanations, -and for the moment we hate explanations more than anything on earth. - -First, we shall have to explain ourselves to the butler. Then, pending -the tardy appearance of our host and hostess, we shall have to explain -ourselves to uninterested fellow-guests. At tea, knowing no one, we -shall stand miserably aloof, endeavouring _faute de mieux_ to explain -our presence to ourself, and wondering whether it would be decent to -leave before breakfast next morning. After dressing for dinner we shall -come down too early, and have to explain ourselves to an embarrassed -governess and a critical little girl of twelve. There for the present -our imagination boggles. Pondering these things, we enquire bitterly why -we ever left the club, where, though life may be colourless, no -questions are asked. - -It is true that these illusions dispel themselves with the first grip of -our host's hand, but they usually cling to us right up to the opening of -the front door; and as I on this particular occasion had only got as far -as the platform of the local station, my soul _adhæsit pavimento_. - -After the habit of shy persons, I compiled a list of my own special -handicaps as I sat in my solitary smoking-compartment. As far as I can -remember they ran something like this:-- - -(1) I have been roaming about the waste places of the earth for more -than ten years, and have entirely lost any social qualities that I ever -possessed. - -(2) For people who like that sort of thing, house-parties are well -enough. But I do not understand the young man of the present day, and -he apparently does not understand me. As for the modern young woman, I -simply shrink from her in fear. - -(3) I have never met my host and hostess in my life. - -(4) It is quite possible that The Freak has forgotten to tell his -parents that he has invited me. - -(5) In any case I probably shall not be met at the station, and there -are never any conveyances to be had at these places. Altogether-- - -At this moment the train drew up at Shotley Beauchamp, and a smiling -groom opened the door and enquired if I were for The Towers. Item Number -Five was accordingly deleted from my catalogue of woes. Two minutes -later Items One to Four slipped silently away into the limbo of those -things that do not matter. A girl was sitting in the brougham outside -the station. - -"Lady goin' up, too, sir," remarked the groom into my ear. "Her maid," -he added, "is in the dogcart. You got a man, sir?" - -"No." - -The groom touched his hat and departed, doubtless to comfort the maid. - -I paused at the carriage-door, and by means of a terrifying cough -intimated that I, too, had been invited to The Towers, and, although a -stranger and unintroduced, begged leave in the humblest manner possible -to assert my right to a seat in the brougham. - -I was greeted with a friendly smile. - -"Come in! I expect you are Mr. Carmyle." - -I admitted guardedly that this was so, and proceeded to install myself -in that part of the brougham not already occupied by the lady's hat. - -"My name is Constance Damer," said my companion, as the brougham -started. "Perhaps you have heard of me?" - -"No," I replied, "I have not." - -"Not very well put!" said Miss Damer reprovingly. - -"I have been abroad for several years," I murmured in extenuation. - -"I know," said my companion, nodding her head. "You have been building -a dam across something in Africa." - -I accepted this precise summary of my professional career with becoming -meekness. Miss Damer continued:-- - -"And I suppose you are feeling a little bit lost at present." - -"Yes," I said heartily, "I am." - -"You should have said 'Not _now_!'" explained my companion gently. - -I apologised again. - -"I shall make allowances for you until you find your feet," said Miss -Damer kindly. - -I thanked her, and asked whom I was likely to meet at The Towers. - -Miss Damer ticked off the names of the party on her small gloved -fingers. (Have I mentioned that she was _petite_?) - -"Mr. Mainwaring and Lady Adela," she said. "You know _them_, of course?" - -"No. I saw them once on Speech Day at school fifteen years ago. That -is all." - -"Well, they are your host and hostess." - -"Thank you: I had gathered that," I replied deferentially. - -"Then Dicky." - -"Dicky? Who is-- Oh, The Frea-- Yes. Quite so! Proceed!" - -"What did you call him?" asked Miss Damer, frankly curious. - -"I--well--at school we used to call him The Freak," I explained. "Men -very often never know the Christian names of their closest friends," I -added feebly. "Who else?" - -"There is Hilda Beverley, of course. You have heard of her?" - -"N--no. Ought I to have done?" - -Miss Damer's brown eyes grew quite circular with surprise. - -"Do you mean to tell me," she asked incredulously, "that Dicky never -informed you that he was engaged?" - -"No. You see," I pointed out, anxious to clear my friend of all -appearance of lukewarmness as a lover, "I only met him the other day for -the first time in fifteen years, and we naturally had a good deal to -tell one another; and so, as it happened--that is--" I tailed off -miserably under Miss Damer's implacable eye. - -"You are his greatest friend, aren't you?" she enquired. - -On reflection I agreed that this was so, although I had never seriously -considered the matter before. Women have a curious habit of cataloguing -their friends into a sort of order of merit--"My greatest friend, my -greatest friend but six," and so on. The more sensitive male shrinks -from such an invidious undertaking. Dicky and I had corresponded with -one another with comparative regularity ever since our University days; -and when two Englishmen, one hopelessly casual and the other entirely -immersed in his profession, achieve this feat, I suppose they rather lay -themselves open to accusations of this sort. - -"And he never told you he was engaged?" - -I shook my head apologetically. - -"Ah, well," said Miss Damer charitably, "I dare say he would have -remembered later. One can't think of everything in a single -conversation, can one?" she added with an indulgent smile. - -I was still pondering a suitable and sprightly defence of masculine -reserve where the heart is concerned, when the carriage swung round -through lodge-gates, and the gravel of the drive crunched beneath our -wheels. - -"I hope the old Freak and his girl will be very happy together," I said, -rather impulsively for me. "He deserves a real prize." - -"You are right," said Miss Damer, "he does." - -My heart warmed to this little lady. She knew a good man when she saw -one. - -"Have they been engaged long?" I asked. - -"About a month." - -"Where did he come across her?" - -"He did not come across her," replied Miss Damer with gentle reproof, as -a Mother Superior to a novice. "They were brought together." - -"That means," I said, "that it is what is called an entirely suitable -match?" - -Miss Damer nodded her small wise head. - -"From a parental point of view," I added. - -"From Lady Adela's point of view," corrected Miss Damer. "Mr. -Mainwaring, poor old dear, has not got one." - -"But what about The Freak's point of view?" I enquired. - -"I can hear you quite well in your ordinary tone of voice," Miss Damer -assured me. - -I apologised, and repeated the question. - -The girl considered. Obviously, it was a delicate subject. - -"He seems quite content," she said at last. "But then, he never could -bear to disappoint any one who had taken the trouble to make -arrangements for his happiness." - -"Would you mind telling me," I said, "without any mental reservation -whatsoever, whether you consider that this engagement is the right one -for him?" - -Miss Damer's eyes met mine with perfect frankness. - -"No," she said, "I don't. What is more, the engagement is beginning to -wear rather thin. In fact,"--her eyes twinkled,--"I believe that Lady -Adela is thinking of calling out her First Reserve." - -"You mean--" - -"I mean," said Miss Damer, "that Lady Adela is thinking of calling out -her First Reserve." - -A natural but most impertinent query sprang to my lips, to be stifled -just in time. - -"You were going to say?" enquired Miss Damer. - -"I was going to say what a pretty carriage drive this is," I replied -rapidly. "You will be glad of a cup of tea, though?" - -"Yes, indeed," replied my companion brightly; but her attitude said -"Coward!" as plainly as could be. - -Still, there are some questions which one can hardly ask a lady after an -acquaintance of only ten minutes. - -"There is the house," continued Miss Damer, as our conveyance weathered -a great clump of rhododendrons. "Are n't you glad that this long and -dusty journey is over?" - -"Not _now_!" I replied. - -My little preceptress turned and bestowed on me a beaming smile. - -"That is _much_ better!" she remarked approvingly. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - VERY ODIOUS - - - I - - -We found the house-party at tea in the hall of The Towers. The -Mainwaring parents proved to be a little old gentleman, with grey -side-whiskers and a subdued manner, and an imposing matron of fifty, who -deliberately filled the teapot to the brim with lukewarm water upon our -approach and then gave me two fingers to shake. To Miss Damer was -accorded a "Constance--dear child!" and a cold peck upon the right -cheek. - -After that I was introduced to Dicky's sister Sylvia--a tall and -picturesque young woman, dressed in black velvet with a lace collar. -She wore the air of a tragedy queen--not, it struck me, because she felt -like a tragedy queen, but because she considered that the pose suited -her. - -The party was completed by a subaltern named Crick--a jovial youth with -a _penchant_ for comic songs, obviously attached to the person of Miss -Sylvia Mainwaring--and of course, The Freak's lady-love, Miss Hilda -Beverley, to whom I was shortly presented. - -I am afraid our conversation was not a conspicuous success. Miss -Beverley was tall, handsome, patrician, and cultivated, obviously -well-off and an admirable talker. Still, it takes two to make a -dialogue, and when one's own contributions to the same, however -unprovocative, are taken up _seriatim_, analysed, turned inside out, and -set aside with an amused smile by a lady who evidently regards a -conversation with one of her _fiancé's_ former associates as a -chastening but beneficial form of intellectual discipline, a man may be -excused for not sparkling. - -Half an hour later, perspiring gently, I was rescued by The Freak and -conducted to the smoking-room. - -"You never told me you were engaged, old man," I said, as we settled -down to a little much-needed refreshment. - -"It's a fact, though," replied The Freak proudly. "_A marriage has been -arranged_--and all that. Say when." - -"_And will shortly take place_, I suppose?" - -"No immediate hurry," said The Freak easily. "There are one or two -things that Hilda wants to cure me of before we face the starter. This, -for instance." He held up an extremely dilute whiskey-and-soda. -"Between meals, that is. Likewise my--er--casual outlook on life in -general." - -"Miss Beverley will have her hands full," I observed. - -"Think so? She will do it, though," replied my renegade friend -confidently. "She is a very capable girl. Regards me as her mission in -life. I feel jolly proud about it, I can tell you--like one of those -reformed drunkards they stand up on the platform to tell people what a -Nut he used to be in the old days, and look at him now! By the way, I -promised Hilda I would n't use the word 'Nut' any more. Check me if I -become too colloquial, old son. Hilda is rather down on what she calls -my 'inability to express myself in rational English.'" - -"Colloquialism was not formerly a failing of yours, Freak," I said. "As -a small boy you were rather inclined the other way." - -"As a small boy, yes," agreed The Freak. "But it is not easy to maintain -the pedantic habit at a public school," he added feelingly. - -"Do you remember once," I continued, "telling old Hanbury, when he -dropped upon you for giggling in form, that your 'risible faculties had -been unduly excited by the bovine immobility of Bailey minor'?" - -"Yes, I remember. Hilda would have been proud of me that day," replied -The Freak, sighing over his lost talent. "Now she thinks me too -flippant and easy-going. Lacking in dignity, and so forth. But if you -watch me carefully during your stay here you will find that I have very -largely regained my old form. I am getting frightfully intellectual. -You ought to see us reading Browning together before breakfast. It is a -sublime spectacle. Talking of sublime spectacles, we are all going to -Laxley Races on Tuesday, and I can give you an absolutely dead snip for -the Cup." - -The next ten minutes were devoted to a conversation which, from the -point of view both of subject-matter and expression, must have undone -the regenerative work of several weeks. Fortunately Miss Beverley was -adorning herself for dinner at the time--the most austere feminine -intellect goes into _mufti_, so to speak, between the hours of seven and -eight P.M.--and we made our provisional selections for Tuesday's -programme undisturbed. - -The student of Browning finished scribbling down the names of horses on -the back of an envelope. - -"That is all right," he said. "Plumstone for the Shotley Stakes, Little -Emily for the Maiden Plate, and Gigadibs or Jedfoot for the big race. -The others can keep. Shall we go up and dress for dinner?" - -I agreed, and we knocked out our pipes. - -"What do you think, by the way," enquired The Freak casually, "of little -Connie Damer?" - -I told him. - -We were late for dinner. - - - - II - - -A shy but observant male, set down in an English country-house, soon -realises, especially when he has been compelled for a period of years to -rely for amusement almost entirely upon his own society, the truth of -the saying that the proper study of mankind is Man--with which is -incorporated Woman. - -At The Towers I became an interested and uneasy spectator of the -continued reformation of my friend Dicky Mainwaring. During the same -period I had constant opportunities of comparing the characters and -dispositions of his first and (presumably) second choices, Mesdames -Beverley and Damer, and in a lesser degree of his sister Sylvia. - -Further acquaintance with Miss Beverley confirmed my first impression of -her. She struck me more and more as exactly the kind of girl whom a -careful mother would select as a helpmeet for a somewhat erratic son. -She was cool, aloof, capable, and decided, with very distinct ideas upon -the subject of personal dignity and good form. She had already cured -her fiancé of many regrettable habits. Dicky, I found, no longer -greeted under-housemaids upon the stairs with "Hallo, Annie! How is -your bad knee getting on?" Instead, he hurried past the expectant -damsel with averted eyes. He no longer slipped warm shillings into the -hands of beggar-women who assailed him with impossible tales of woe in -the back drive: instead, he apologetically handed them tickets of -introduction to the Charity Organisation Society, with a packet of which -Miss Beverley had relentlessly provided him. He kept accounts. He -answered letters by return of post. He perused closely printed volumes, -and became enrolled in intellectual societies with mysterious aims and -titles difficult to remember. - -"Tiny, my bonny boy," he enquired of me one morning after breakfast, "do -you happen to have any sort of notion what Eugenics is--or are?" - -"I believe," I replied hazily, "that it is some sort of scheme for -improving the physique of the race." - -Dicky nodded appreciatively. - -"I see," he said. "One of old Sandow's schemes. His name is Eugen. -That is better than I thought. I was afraid it was going to be another -kind of political economy. Hilda wants me to become a local -vice-president of the Eugenic Society; and as it seems to be a less -pois--complicated business than most of her enterprises, I think I will -plank down five bob and win a good mark." - -And off he went, money in hand, to gain an indulgent smile from his -Minerva. - -Of Sylvia Mainwaring I need only say at present that she was a pale -shade of Miss Beverley. - -Miss Constance Damer was the exact opposite of Miss Beverley, -physically, mentally, and spiritually. Miss Beverley was tall, dark, -and stately; Miss Damer small, fair, and vivacious. Miss Beverley was -patronising and gracious in her manner; Miss Damer's prevailing note was -unaffected bonhomie. But where Miss Beverley slew her thousands, Miss -Damer slew her tens of thousands; for she possessed what the other did -not, that supreme gift of the -gods--charm--magnetism--personality--whatever you like to call it. In -all my life I have never known a human being who attracted her -fellow-creatures with so little effort and so little intention, and who -inspired love and affection so readily and lastingly, as Constance -Damer. She never angled for admiration; she bestowed no favours; she -responded to no advances; but she drew all the world after her like -Orpheus with his lute. - -That is all I need say about Miss Damer. This narrative concerns itself -with the career of my good friend The Freak, Dicky Mainwaring; and the -persevering reader will ultimately discover (if he has not already -guessed) that Fate had arranged The Freak's future on a basis which did -not include the lady whom I have just described. - -With masculine admiration Miss Damer did not concern herself overmuch. -We all think lightly of what can be had in abundance. Not that she did -not take a most healthy interest in noting what mankind thought of her; -but her interest would undoubtedly have been heightened if she could -have felt less certain what the verdict was going to be. I honestly -believe she would have been thrilled and gratified if some one had -passed an unfavourable opinion upon her. But no one ever did. - -She had no sisters of her own, so large families of girls were an -abiding joy to her. These received her with rapture--especially the shy -and gawky members thereof--and made much of her, sunning themselves in -the unaffected kindliness of her nature and gloating over her clothes -for as long as they could keep her. She was greatly in request, too, -among small boys, for purposes of football and the like; but her chief -passion in life, as I discovered one afternoon when Dicky and I -surprised her at tea with the coachman's family, was a fat, -good-tempered, accommodating, responsive baby. - -As for her character in general, I think its outstanding feature was a -sort of fearless friendliness. (Miss Beverley may have been fearless, -but she certainly was not friendly.) Constance Damer's was the absolute -fearlessness of a child who has never yet encountered anything to be -afraid of. It is given to few of us to walk through life without coming -face to face at times with some of its ugliness. Apparently this had -never happened to Miss Damer. I say "apparently," but such a wise and -discerning young person as I ultimately found her to be could never -really have been blind or indifferent to the sadder facts of this world -of ours. Consequently I often found myself enquiring why her attitude -towards her fellow-creatures as a whole was so entirely fearless and -trustful, when she must have known that so many of them were to be -feared and so few to be trusted. I fancy the reason must have been that -she possessed the power of compelling every one--man, woman, child, -horse, and dog--to turn only their best side towards her. Rough folk -answered her gently, silent folk became chatty, surly folk smiled, -fretful folk cheered up, awkward folk felt at home in her presence; -children summed up the general attitude by clinging to her skirts and -begging her to play with them. It was impossible to imagine any one -being rude to her, and certainly I never knew any one who was--not even -Miss Beverley. - -But she never abused her power. She never domineered, never put on -airs, never ordered us about, never revealed her consciousness that we -were all her servants. That is true greatness. - - ---- - -As you very properly observe, this is a book about Dicky Mainwaring. -_Revenons à nos moutons_! - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - FORBIDDEN FRUIT--A DIGRESSION - - -Lady Adela stood in the hall, engaged in her favourite pursuit of -guest-dragooning. - -"Mr. Mainwaring is not coming," she announced. "Dick, Hilda, Constance, -Sylvia, and Mr. Crick will go in the motor. Mr. Carmyle, will you give -me your company in the victoria?" - -I smiled wanly and thanked her. Perhaps the punishment fitted the -crime, but it was none the less a heavy one. Still, one should not seek -out forbidden fruit, or tamper with First Reserves. - -Briefly, the facts of the case were these. - -After breakfast on the day of Laxley Races--a blazing August -morning--Miss Constance Damer invited me to accompany her to the orchard -to pick green apples. - -"I have a clean white frock on," she explained, "or I would not trouble -you." - -I assured her that it was no trouble. - -We duly reached the orchard, where Miss Damer ate three green apples and -presented me with a fourth, which, fearing a fifth, I consumed as slowly -as possible, hoping for the sake of our first parents that Eve's -historic indiscretion took place in late September and not early August. - -Presently we came to a red-brick wall with a south aspect, upon which -the noonday sun beat warmly. High up upon its face grew plums, fat, -ripe, and yellow. - -Miss Damer threw away the core of an apple and turned to me. - -"I should like a plum," she said, with a seraphic smile. - -The wall was fifteen feet high, and the plums grew near the top. - -"I will find a ladder," I replied obediently. - -"That would be bothering you too much," said the considerate Miss Damer. -"Can't you put your foot in that root and pull yourself up by the -branches?" - -The branches, be it said, were gnarled and fragile, and lay flat against -the wall. - -"I think the ladder would be better," I repeated. "My weight might pull -the whole thing away from the wall, and then we should have a few -observations from Lady Adela." - -"You are right; that would never do," replied my right-minded companion -gravely. "But I don't know where they keep the ladder, and in any case -it would probably be locked up. What a pity I have this white skirt -on!" - -She turned away. A low tremulous sigh escaped her. - -Next moment, feeling utterly and despicably weak-minded, I found myself -ascending the wall, much as a blue-bottle ascends a window-pane. Miss -Damer stood below with clasped hands. - -"Do be careful, Mr. Carmyle," she besought me. "You might hurt yourself -very seriously if you fell. I will have that big one, please, just -above your head." - -I secured the object indicated and threw it down to her. She caught it -deftly. - -"There is another one on your left," continued Eve. "Can you reach it?" - -I could, and did. - -"I will keep this one for you, Mr. Carmyle," said my thoughtful -companion as she caught it. "I think I will have one more. There is a -perfectly lovely one there, out to your right. You can just get it if -you stretch. Throw it down." - -The plum in question was a monster, and looked ripe to the moment. I -straddled myself athwart the plum tree, much in the attitude of a man -who is about to receive five hundred lashes, and reached far out to the -right. - -"Another two inches will do it," called out Miss Damer encouragingly. - -She was right. I strained two inches further, and my fingers closed -upon the fruit. Simultaneously the greater part of the plum tree -abandoned its adherence to the wall, and in due course,--about -four-fifths of a second, I should say,--I found myself lying on my back -in a gooseberry-bush, clasping to my bosom the greater part of a -valuable fruit tree, dimly conscious, from glimpses through the -interstices of my leafy bower, of the presence of a towering and -majestic figure upon the gravel walk beside Miss Damer. - -It was Lady Adela Mainwaring, my hostess, armed _cap-à-pie_ in -gauntlets, green baize apron, and garden hat, for a murderous morning -among the slugs. - -I struggled to a sitting position, slightly dazed, and not a little -apprehensive lest I should be mistaken for a slug. - -Neither Miss Damer nor my hostess uttered a word, Lady Adela because her -high breeding and immense self-control restrained her; Miss Damer, I -shrewdly suspect, because she was engaged in bolting the last evidence -of her complicity. But both ladies were regarding me with an expression -of pained reproach. - -I shook myself free from my arboreal surroundings, and smiled weakly. - -"Have you hurt yourself, Mr. Carmyle?" enquired Lady Adela. - -"No, thank you," I replied, wondering if I would have received a lighter -sentence if I had said yes. - -"If you should desire to eat fruit at any time," continued Lady Adela in -a gentle voice, much as one might address an imbecile subject to sudden -attacks of eccentric mania, "one of the gardeners will always be glad to -get it for you. You had better go in now and dress, as we start for the -races in half an hour. Constance, dearest, run and find Puttick, and -ask him if anything can be done for this tree." - -Miss Damer tripped obediently away in search of the head-gardener, and -Lady Adela led me kindly but firmly past the gooseberry-bushes and other -sources of temptation to the house. - -I did not see Miss Damer again until I met her with the others in the -hall half an hour later. - -She projected a sad smile upon me through her motor-veil, and shook her -head. - -"I hope you did n't hurt yourself," she said softly. - -"I hope the last plumstone did n't choke you!" I replied sternly. - -At this moment Lady Adela joined the party, and pronounced sentence as -recorded at the beginning of this chapter. The other five accordingly -descended the steps and began to pack themselves into the motor. - -"May I drive, Dicky?" enquired Miss Damer. - -No one ever thought of refusing Miss Damer anything. Her request was -evidently the merest matter of form, for she was at the wheel almost as -soon as she made it. Even Lady Adela merely smiled indulgently. - -"Constance, _dear child_!" she murmured. - -Dicky carefully packed his _fiancée_ into the back seat, where his -sister had already taken her place. - -"You had better sit between us, I think," said Miss Beverley. - -"I am going to sit in front," said Dicky, "in case Connie does anything -specially crack-brained with the car. Crick, old friend, just separate -these two fair ladies, will you?" - -Mr. Crick obeyed with alacrity. The Freak, heedless of a tiny cloud -upon Miss Beverley's usually serene brow, stepped up beside Miss Damer. -That lady released her clutch-pedal, and the car, spurting up gravel -with its back wheels, shot convulsively forward and then began to crawl -heavily on its way. - -"We'll put something on for you if you aren't in time for the first -race, Bill," called The Freak to me. "What do you want to back?" - -I inflated my lungs, and replied _fortissimo_:-- - -"Plumstone!" - -Miss Damer's small foot came heavily down upon the accelerator, and the -car whizzed down the drive. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - UNEARNED INCREMENT - - -Lady Adela and I studiously avoided all reference to gardening or diet -upon our six-mile drive to Laxley, and reached the course in a condition -of comparative amicability. - -We arrived just in time to hear the roar that greeted the result of the -first race. - -"I wonder what has won," I said, as the victoria bumped over the grass. - -"I have never been greatly interested in racing," said Lady Adela -majestically. "My father was devoted to it, and so is my brother -Rumborough. But I never know one horse from another. For instance, I -have not the faintest notion which of the two animals now drawing us is -Romulus and which is Remus, although Dick says it is impossible to -mistake them. But then Dick has a name for every animal in the estate. -Ah! there is the motor, against the railings! That is rather a relief. -Dear Constance is an excellent driver, Dick says, but she is inclined to -be venturesome." - -"Miss Damer appears to be a lady of exceptional talents," I observed. - -"Yes, indeed!" agreed Lady Adela, with, for her, quite remarkable -enthusiasm. "It is a pity she has no money." - -I do not know whether the last remark was intended as a lamentation or -an intimation. But I understood now why Miss Damer was only First -Reserve. - -I changed the subject. - -"I suppose you do not bet, Lady Adela?" - -"I make it a rule," replied my hostess precisely, "to put -half-a-sovereign on any horse whose owner we happen to know. One should -always support one's friends, should not one?" - -I was still pondering in my heart Lady Adela's system of turf -speculation, wondering whether if every animal in the race had belonged -to a friend she would have backed it, and in any case what benefit or -otherwise (beyond shortening the price) one confers upon an owner by -backing his horses at all, when the victoria, rolling heavily, came to -anchor astern of the motor, and Hilda Beverley, Sylvia, and Crick, who -had been standing upon the seats to view the race, turned to greet us. - -"I had no idea racing was so exciting, dear Lady Adela," exclaimed Miss -Beverley. "I came armed with a copy of 'The Nation,' prepared to spend -the afternoon in the back seat of the car, and here I am quite -thrilled." - -"I am so glad, dear Hilda," said Lady Adela graciously. "Dick would -have been disappointed if you had not enjoyed yourself. Where is that -boy, by the way?" - -"He and Connie have gone to collect Mr. Carmyle's winnings," said -Sylvia. - -"Has--ha! h'm!--Plumstone won, then?" I enquired, timorously avoiding -Lady Adela's eye. - -"Yes, worse luck!" replied Mr. Crick lugubriously. "We were all on -Mercutio. But Miss Damer stuck to it that Plumstone was the right -horse, and made Dicky put on five shillings for her and five for you. -They got three to one, I believe." - -At this moment Dicky and Miss Damer returned from the ring, and I was -duly presented with six half-crowns. - -"Three-quarters of an hour till the next race," announced Dicky. -"Better have lunch." - -By this time the whole party had become infected with that fierce spirit -of cupidity which assails respectable Britons when they find themselves -in the neighbourhood of that singularly uncorrupt animal, the horse; and -the succeeding half-hour was devoted by seven well-born and well-to-do -persons to an elaborate consideration of the best means of depriving a -hard-working and mainly deserving section of the community of as large a -sum of money as possible. - -Our symposium resulted in a far from unanimous decision. Lady Adela, -having studied the list of owners' names upon the card, handed me a -sovereign and instructed me to seek out a book-maker who should be both -cheap and respectable, and back the Earl of Moddlewick's Extinguisher -and Mr. Hector McCorquodale's Inverary. Mr. Crick, the expert of the -party, let fall dark hints on the subject of a quadruped named The -Chicken. Dicky and I decided to wait until the numbers went up. - -"Dick, you must positively back a horse for me this time," announced -Miss Beverley. - -"You are getting on, Hilda!" replied The Freak, obviously pleased to -find his beloved in sympathy with his simple pleasures. - -Miss Beverley handed him five shillings. - -"And if the horse does n't win I shall never speak to you again," she -concluded; and from the tone of her voice I could not help feeling that -she meant what she said. - -"What is your selection this time, Connie?" asked Sylvia. - -Miss Damer produced a dirty pink envelope and began to open it. - -Dicky laughed. - -"Connie has been patronising a tipster," he said. - -"I got this," explained Miss Damer, "from a man on the course. His name -was Lively. He was trying to earn an honest living, he said, by -supplying reliable stable information to sportsmen; but he did n't seem -to be getting on very well, poor thing! People were standing all round -him in a ring, laughing, and nobody would buy any of his envelopes, -although he had given lots of them the winner of the first race for -nothing. Just then he caught sight of Dicky and me standing on the edge -of the crowd. He pushed his way towards us, and said that if I bought -one of his tips, he knew it would bring him luck. He said," Miss Damer -added with a smile of genuine gratification, "that I was a beautiful -young lady. So I bought one of his envelopes, and after that a lot of -other people did, too." - -Dicky grinned. - -"Yes; that was the point at which we ought to have passed along -quietly," he said. - -"Did n't you?" I asked. - -"Bless you, no! Connie had n't nearly finished. She and her friend were -as thick as thieves by this time. The conversation was just beginning -to interest them." - -"What did you find to talk about, Miss Damer?" asked Hilda Beverley -curiously. - -"I could n't help wondering," Connie continued, "whether he had a wife -and children to support; so I asked him if he was married. He said he -was afraid he was, but if ever he became a widower he would let me know. -We left after that." - -"Constance, _dear_ child!" began Lady Adela, amid unseemly laughter. - -"It was all right, Lady Adela," Miss Damer assured her. "They were -quite a nice crowd, and I had Dicky with me." - -"You are a great deal better able to take care of yourself than I am, -old lady," said The Freak admiringly. - -I saw Miss Beverley's fine eyes rest disapprovingly for a moment upon -her philogynistic swain. Then some one asked:-- - -"What is your tip, Connie?" - -Miss Damer scanned her paper. - -"It's not very well written," she said. "Perry--Perry--something." - -"Periander?" I suggested. "He is on the card." - -"Yes--Periander. I shall back him." - -"Rank outsider," said Mr. Crick's warning voice. - -"I shall back him all the same," persisted Miss Damer, with a little nod -of finality. "It would n't be fair to Lively's luck if I did n't. Mr. -Carmyle, will you come and find a bookmaker with me?" - -We departed together, and pushed our way through the crowd to the ring. -On our journey we passed Miss Damer's protégé, still dispensing reliable -information in a costume composed of check trousers, an officer's -scarlet mess-jacket, stained and bleached almost beyond recognition by -the accidents of many race-courses, and a large bowler hat adorned with -a peacock's feather. A broken nose made him conveniently recognisable -by those (if such there were) who might desire to consult him a second -time. Miss Damer, for whom castaways and lame dogs in general seemed to -have a peculiar fascination, showed a disposition to linger again; but a -timely reminder as to the necessity of getting our money on at once took -us past the danger point and saved me from participating in a public -appearance. - -Presently we found ourselves amid the book-making fraternity. The -numbers of the runners had gone up, and lungs of brass were proclaiming -the odds in fierce competition. - -"What does 'six to four the field' mean?" enquired Miss Damer. "I -always forget." - -I turned to answer the question, but found that it had not been -addressed to me. My companion was now engaged in animated conversation -with a total stranger, and for the next five minutes I stood -respectfully aloof while the pair discussed _seriatim_ the prospects of -each horse upon the card. - -"He says Periander is an outsider," Miss Damer informed me, as the man -moved away, awkwardly raising his hat. "But I think I must back him. -Cornucopia is a certainty for this race, he told me." ("A pinch" was -what the gentleman had said: I overheard him.) "You had better put -something on him." - -I meekly assented, and after Miss Damer had found her bookmaker we -adventured ten shillings upon Periander and Cornucopia respectively. -Public estimation of the former animal's form was such as to secure odds -of ten to one for Miss Damer. I was informed that the two steeds owned -by the Earl of Moddlewick and Mr. Hector McCorquodale were not running, -so a Diogenean search for Lady Adela's cheap and respectable bookmaker -was not required of me. - -Suddenly a bell rang. - -"They're off!" exclaimed Miss Damer. "We can't cross the course now. -Come on to this stand." - -We raced up a flight of steps, and presently found ourselves on a long -balcony in a position which commanded a view of the entire course. - -"Your jockey," announced Miss Damer to me, "is pale blue with chocolate -sleeves and cap. Mine is red, with white hoops. Can you see them -anywhere?" - -"I can see mine," I said. "He is having a chat with the starter at -present, but I have no doubt he will tear himself away presently." - -"But the others are halfway home!" cried Miss Damer in dismay. - -"So I perceive." - -"You poor man!" - -"Never mind!" I replied quite cheerfully. There is something very -comforting about being called a poor man by some people. "Where is your -friend?" - -"There, in that bunch of four. He is going well, is n't he? That's the -favourite, Mustard Seed, lying back." - -"I expect his jockey will let him out after he gets into the straight," -I said. - -"If he isn't very careful," observed Miss Damer with perfect truth, "he -will get shut out altogether." - -The horses swept round the last corner and headed up the final stretch -in a thundering bunch. Suddenly Miss Damer turned to me. - -"This is fearfully dull for you," she said. - -"Not at all," I assured her. "My horse has just started." - -"Come in with me on Periander," pleaded my companion. "You can only -lose five shillings." - -I closed with her offer by a nod. Some partnerships can be accepted -without negotiation or guarantee. - -Suddenly the crowd gave a roar. The favourite had bored his way through -the ruck at last. He shot ahead. The noise became deafening. - -"There goes our half-sovereign!" shrieked Miss Damer despairingly in my -ear. - -"Wait a minute!" I bellowed. "Periander is n't done for yet." - -There came a yet mightier roar from the crowd, and as we leaned -precariously over the balustrade and craned our necks up the course, we -perceived that a horse whose jockey wore red and white hoops was -matching the favourite stride for stride. - -"Periander! Periander!" yelled those who stood to win at ten to one -against. - -"Mustard Seed!" howled those who stood to lose at six to four on. - -But they howled in vain. The flail-like whips descended for the last -time; there was a flash of red and white; and Periander was first past -the post by a length. - -We descended into the ring and sought out our bookmaker. There was no -crowd round him: backers of Periander had not been numerous; and it was -with a friendly and indulgent smile that he handed Miss Damer her -half-sovereign and a five-pound note. - -"Can you give me two-pounds-ten for this?" she asked, handing me the -note. - -It was useless to protest, so I humbly pocketed my unearned increment, -and we left the ring in search of the rest of our party. - -"I have never won gold before," announced the small capitalist beside -me, slipping the coins into her chain-purse--"let alone paper." Her -smiling face was flushed with triumph. - -"I think I know who will rejoice at your victory to-morrow," I said, -"and participate in the fruits thereof." - -"Who?" - -"The coachman's children, the gardener's children, the lodge-keeper's -children--" - -But Miss Damer was not listening. - -"Poor Lively!" she said suddenly. "He gave me that tip, and yet he -could n't afford to back the horse himself." - -"Tipsters do not as a rule follow their own selections," I said. "I -don't suppose, either, that Periander's was the only name contained in -those pink envelopes of his. You really ought not--" - -"Why, there he is!" exclaimed Miss Damer, upon whom, I fear, my little -homily had been entirely thrown away. - -We had made a detour to avoid the crowd on our way back to the carriage, -and were now crossing an unfrequented part of the course. My companion -pointed, and following the direction of her hand I beheld, projecting -above a green hillock twenty yards away, a battered bowler hat, -surmounted by a peacock's feather. - -"Come this way," commanded Miss Damer. - -I followed her round to the other side of the hillock. There lay the -retailer of stable secrets, resting from his labours before the next -race. Apparently business was not prospering. His dirty, villainous -face looked unutterably pinched and woe-begone. His eyes were closed. -Obviously he had not lunched. His broken nose appeared more concave -than ever. - -At our approach he raised his head listlessly. - -"Go on, and wait for me, please," said Miss Damer in a low voice. - -I obeyed. One always obeyed when Miss Damer spoke in that tone, and -evidently some particularly private business was in hand. Already the -child's impulsive fingers were fumbling with the catch of her chain -purse. - -I took up my stand a considerable distance away. I had no fears of -Lively. One does not snatch at the purse of an angel from heaven. My -only concern was that the angel's generosity might outrun her -discretion. - -I could hear her making a breathless little speech, but Lively said -never a word. I was not altogether surprised. Probably he was afraid -of waking up. - -Presently she came back to me, smiling farewell at her pensioner over -her shoulder. - -"You'll give one of them to your wife, won't you?" was the last thing I -heard her say. - -Then she rejoined me, and we walked on. - -"How much money," I enquired severely, "will you have left out of your -winnings, after providing for me and your other friend and the families -of the coachman and the gardener and the lodge-keeper?" - -Again Miss Damer was not attending. - -"Poor Lively!" she said softly. - -There were tears in her eyes. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - A RELAPSE - - -The most unpopular man in the group which we now rejoined was -undoubtedly Mr. Crick, a blind faith in whose prescience had induced -Miss Beverley and Sylvia Mainwaring to adventure an aggregate sum of ten -shillings upon Mustard Seed. Ranking a good second in the order of -odium came Dicky, who had executed the commission. The fact that he had -done so under protest was deemed to have no bearing on the case. - -Miss Damer said nothing about our little triumph, and I was well -content. There is something very intimate and comfortable about a -secret of this kind. - -The great race of the day, the Laxley Cup, was now imminent, and, with -the exception of Lady Adela, who issued to me from the depths of the -victoria a distinctly somnolent injunction to persevere in my support of -the property of the Earl of Moddlewick and Mr. Hector McCorquodale, we -departed in a body to back our respective fancies. - -"Miss Beverley seems a bit put out about something, my son Richard," I -observed, as The Freak and I strolled along in the rear of the party. - -Dicky nodded. - -"Yes," he said, "she is. She is a dear, but she hates losing money -worse than an eye-tooth. I must find a winner for her this time, or I -shall have to listen to a song and chorus. You noticed it, too, then?" - -"Yes. But it was before she lost money. Do you think she disapproves -of--" - -"Of the way I trot around after Connie--eh? No, to do her justice, I -don't think she minds that a bit. She knows that Connie and I have been -pals ever since we were quite small nippers. Besides," concluded my -friend with an entirely gratuitous chuckle, "everybody trots around -after Connie, don't they?" - -I admitted briefly that this was so. - -"No; it is the loss of cash chiefly that makes her fractious," continued -Dicky. "That, and my want of dignity and repose on public occasions." - -"What sort of exhibition have you been making of yourself this time?" I -enquired gruffly. Dicky's last remark still rankled. - -"Nothing to signify. Hilda and I were taking a stroll on the course -together, before you arrived, and I stopped to have a brief chat with an -aged Irish beggar-woman. The old dame had a shilling out of me in no -time, and we departed under a perfect blizzard of benediction. Hilda -seemed rather miffy about it: said I was making her and myself -conspicuous. For the Lord's sake, put me on to a winner for her, old -soul!" - -"Ask Miss Damer," I said. "She is the member of this party who picks up -reliable information." - -But Miss Damer was nowhere to be seen. - -"She is somewhere in that seething mob, backing horses on her own -account," explained Sylvia later. "She said she was n't going to bother -any of the men this time. Do you think it is quite safe?" - -"Connie knows her way about," said Dicky. "But perhaps we had better go -and have a look for her. Do you know which bookie she has been -patronising, Tiny?" - -"Yes; that gentleman by the railings, with the gamboge waistcoat," I -replied. "But she is n't going to him any more. She has taken money -off him twice, and considers it unfair to fleece him again. We shall -find her looking for a man with a large bank-balance and no children." - -"How will she be able to tell?" enquired that simple soul, Mr. Crick. - -"From what I know of her," I said, "she will ask him." - -Loaded with injunctions and commissions from the other two ladies, Dicky -and I pushed our way once more into the crowd of speculators. Finding -that the Earl of Moddlewick's Ginger Jim figured upon the programme and -was actually proposing to run, I backed that animal on Lady Adela's -behalf, blushing painfully before the thinly veiled amazement and -compassion of the bookmaker and his clerk. Myself, I supported the -favourite, for reasons of my own. Dicky moved feverishly up and down -the line, putting money on horse after horse. Apparently Miss Beverley -was to back a winner this time. - -As I concluded my business, I caught sight of Miss Damer's lilac frock -and big black hat in the paddock. She was engaged in an ardent -conversation with a group of three--two girls and a man--and I remember -wondering whether they were actual friends of hers or acquaintances of -the moment, drawn unwittingly but perfectly willingly into the small -siren's net. (As it turned out, they were old friends, but I think I -may be excused for not feeling certain.) I was a little disappointed at -her preoccupation, for I had been hoping for another deed of -partnership. - -But the starting-bell had rung, and people were clambering on to the -stands. - -"Which is my horse, Dick?" enquired Hilda Beverley, as we took our -places. - -This was an obvious poser for my friend. - -"I'll tell you in a minute," he said, gazing diligently through his -binoculars. "Yes, yes!" He coughed with intense heartiness. "It is -doing very well--very well, indeed!" - -"But which one is it?" asked Miss Beverley impatiently. - -"The one in front," replied The Freak, with perfect truth. - -The finish was imminent. A hundred yards from the post the favourite -cracked, and his place was taken by a raking black horse with a pink -jockey, which ultimately won the race with a length in hand. - -The bulk of the crowd naturally received the defeat of the favourite -without enthusiasm, but a small section near the judge's box raised a -loud and continuous yell of jubilation. Evidently some particular -stable had "known something" and kept it dark. - -"What is the name of that black animal?" I enquired of Dicky. - -"Malvolio." - -"Did you back him?" I enquired loudly. - -"Rather!" yelled Dicky. "Come with me and help me to collect Hilda's -winnings for her. Back directly, dear!" - -"How many horses did you back in that race?" I enquired, as we elbowed -our way to the ring. - -"Seven," said Dicky. "Expensive game, executing commissions for your -best girl--what?" - -"Let us hope this little victory will have the desired effect," I said -piously. - -"It will be cheap at the price," replied Dicky with fervour. - -At the foot of the stand we found Miss Damer taking leave of her three -friends. She joined us. - -"Will you chaperon me into the ring, please?" she asked of me politely. - -I stopped short and gazed at her. - -"Do you mean to tell me," I said, "that you have won again?" - -Miss Damer nodded brightly. - -"Yes," she said. - -"You backed Malvolio--that outsider?" - -Miss Damer smiled seraphically. "Yes." - -"And where did you get the tip this time?" I enquired. - -"I asked the bookmaker," replied Miss Damer simply. "I thought he would -know." - -"And he gave you Malvolio?" - -"Yes. I had thought of backing the favourite, but he would n't let me. -He said Malvolio was 'a real snip,' but very few people knew about him. -He was a kind man. Come and help me to find him." - -We duly discovered her altruistic friend, who smiled at me over his -client's head in a resigned and humorous fashion, as if to imply that -there are occasions upon which Homer may be excused from nodding. "If -this be Vanity," his expression seemed to ask, "who would be wise?" -Who, indeed? - -Of all Constance Damer's achievements in the matter of unduly -influencing her fellow-creatures, I hold--and always have held--that -this was the greatest. I have been present at many of her triumphs. I -have seen her tackle a half-drunken ruffian who was ill-treating his -wife, not merely subjugating him, but sending the pair away reconciled -and arm-in-arm; I have seen her compel crusty and avaricious old -gentlemen to pay not only largely, but cheerfully, for bazaar-goods for -which they could have had no possible use, and the very purchase of -which implicated them in the furtherance of a scheme of which they -heartily disapproved; and I have seen her soothe a delirious child into -peaceful slumber by the mere magic of her touch and voice. But to -interrupt a hard-working, unsentimental, starting-price bookmaker at the -busiest moment of his day, for the purpose of eliciting from him -information as to the right horse to back, and to receive from him--a -man whose very living depends upon your backing the wrong one--not -merely reliable but exclusive information, strikes me as a record even -for Miss Constance Damer. - -Presently Dicky rejoined us. - -"Collected your winnings?" I enquired. - -"Yes--and handed them over. There are only two runners in the next -race. Come and have a look at the merry-go-rounds. I know you love -them, Connie." - -Miss Damer admitted the correctness of this statement, but declined to -come. - -"I see Lady Adela over there," she said--"all alone. That's not fair. -She has a new toque on, too, poor thing! I will go and take her for a -walk round the enclosure. You two can come back presently and give us -tea. If you discover anything really exciting in the way of side-shows -I will come and see it before the last race." - -She flitted away. Two minutes later we saw her, looking like a neat -little yacht going for a walk with a Dreadnought, carefully convoying -Lady Adela across the course into the enclosure. - -"What about Miss Beverley and the others, Freak?" I asked, as we turned -away. - -"Oh, they are all right," said Dicky shortly. "Leave them alone for a -bit longer." - -From which I gathered that Miss Beverley was still suffering from what -is known in nursery circles as "a little black dog on her back." - -A large section of the crowd evidently shared our opinion that the next -race would be a tame affair, for the merry-go-rounds and other -appurtenances of the meeting were enjoying abundant patronage as we -approached. We passed slowly along the fairway, where hoarse persons -implored us, _inter alia_, to be photographed, win cocoanuts, and -indulge in three rounds under Queensberry Rules with "The Houndsditch -Terror." - -Dicky, suddenly throwing off his low spirits, won two cocoanuts; -insisted upon being photographed with me upon the beach of a -_papier-mâché_ ocean, and, although he drew the line at The Houndsditch -Terror, submitted his palm to an unclean and voluble old lady who -desired to tell his fortune. - -He was cautioned by the beldame against a fair man with a black -heart--"That's you, old son!" he remarked affectionately to me--and -received warning of impending trouble with a dark lady. ("Thanks; I -know all about that," he assured her feelingly.) On the other hand, he -was promised two letters, a journey across the ocean, and a quantity of -gold--precise amount not specified--within a short period of time. - -"You have a very peculiar nature," was the next announcement. "You have -paid attention to many ladies, but you have never really loved any of -them. Your heart--" - -"I beg your pardon; I have loved them all!" replied The Freak -emphatically. - -"Don't be angry with Gipsy, pretty gentleman!" pleaded the aged Sibyl. -"Gipsy knows best. Gipsy only says what she reads in the hand. So--but -what is this?" She bent closer. "Ah! Very soon, sir, you will meet the -lady of your dreams, and you will love her as you have never loved -before." - -"No, really?" exclaimed Dicky, deeply interested. "Tell me, shall I -marry her?" - -"Many difficulties and obstacles will be placed in your path," chanted -the prophetess. "You will be misunderstood; you will have to deal with -peculiar people. Many times you will be tempted to give up in despair. -But persevere, and you will triumph in the end. Now, gentleman, cross -Gipsy's palm with silver--" - -Here high prophetic frenzy tailed off into unabashed mendicancy, and the -interview dropped to a purely commercial level. My attention wandered. -Not far away a ring of people had collected round some fresh object of -interest. I could hear the sound of a woman's voice singing, and the -thrumming of a harp. I could even distinguish the air. A fresh number -was just beginning. It was "Annie Laurie"--the most beautiful -love-song, in my humble opinion, ever written. - - "Maxwellton's braes are bonny, - Where early falls the dew--" - - -Then the voice quavered and ceased, and I found myself wondering what -had happened. - -"And now, would the other handsome gentleman like to show his palm to -Gipsy?" enquired an ingratiating croak at my side. - -Realising with difficulty that I was the individual referred to, I -turned, to find that our aged friend, having satisfactorily arranged -Dicky's future, was now soliciting my patronage. - -"No, thanks," I replied. "Come and see what is going on over there, -Freak." - -"Ah, but Gipsy will tell the gentleman _all_," promised the old lady. -"He has a wicked eye," she added, alluringly but incorrectly. - -We escaped at last, at a price, and presently found ourselves upon the -outskirts of the little crowd which I have already mentioned. - -"What is going on inside here?" enquired Dicky of his nearest neighbour. - -"Gel singin' to the 'arp," replied the gentleman addressed. He -supplemented this information by adding that the lady was no class, and -had a nasty cough. - -He was right. As he spoke, the voice of the singer broke again, and we -could hear the sound of a spasm of coughing. - -We elbowed our way into the crowd, which had grown with the easy -facility of all race-course crowds into quite an assemblage; and -presently found ourselves in the inmost ring of spectators. - -In the centre of the ring sat an old man on a camp-stool, cuddling a big -battered harp to his shoulder. Beside him stood a tall tired-looking -woman, very handsome in a tawdry fashion, of about thirty-five. She was -dressed as a Pierrette. Her right hand rested upon the old man's -shoulder, her left was pressed hard against her chest. She was coughing -violently, and her accompanist's hands lay patiently idle in his lap -until she should be ready to continue. On the grass beside the old man -sat a hollow-eyed little boy, also in regulation Pierrot costume. - -I heard Dicky draw his breath sharply. Don Quixote was astir again. - -Presently the singer recovered, stood bravely erect, and prepared -herself for another effort. The old man's hands swept over the strings, -and the harp emitted a gentle arpeggio. - - "Like dew on the gowans lying - Is the fall of her fairy feet, - And like winds in summer sighing - Her voice is low and sweet. - Her voice is low and sweet, - And she's all the world to me; - And for bonnie Annie Laurie--" - - -The song floated up into the blue summer sky, carrying me with -it--possibly in pursuit of the fairy feet (for which I had already found -an owner). Exposure, rough usage, mayhap gin-and-water--all these had -robbed the singer's notes of something of their pristine freshness; but -they rang out pure and limpid for all that. It was a trained voice, and -must once have been a great voice. The crowd stood absolutely still. -Never have I beheld a more attentive audience. - -"Grand opera, once," said Dicky's voice softly in my ear. Then--"Oh, -you poor thing!" - -I recalled my thoughts from their sentimental journey, to realise that -the verse had broken off before the end and that the woman was once more -in the throes of another attack of coughing, the black pompoms on her -little white clown cap vibrating with every spasm. Impatient spectators -began to drift away. - -I was conscious of a sudden movement beside me, and Dicky's voice -exclaimed, in the hoarse whisper which I knew he reserved for -conversations with himself:-- - -"Go on! Be a man!" - -Next moment he had left my side and was standing in the centre of the -ring, addressing the crowd. He was quite cool and self-possessed, but I -saw his fingers curling and uncurling. - -"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted. - -"Git out of the ring, Elbert!" suggested a voice, not unkindly. - -But The Freak continued:-- - -"I know we all sympathise with the plucky attempt this lady is making to -entertain us under very difficult circumstances." - -The crowd, suspicious of a hoax of some kind, surveyed him dumbly. - -"I am sure," Dicky went on, "you will agree with me that with such a bad -cough our entertainer has no right to be working so hard this afternoon; -and I therefore propose, with your kind permission, in order that she -may have a rest and get her voice back, to sing you one or two songs -myself. I can't sing for toffee; but I will do my best, and I know that -you, being sportsmen all, will assist me by singing the choruses!" - -He took off his hat, bowed genially, and turned to the harpist. There -was a buzz of appreciation and anticipation among the crowd. Evidently -Dicky had touched the right note when he appealed to them as sportsmen. - -"Can you vamp a few chords, do you think?" I heard him say to the -accompanist. - -"Yes, sir," replied the old man quickly. "Go on: I'll follow you." - -The tired woman sank down upon the trampled grass beside the little boy; -The Freak, hat in hand, struck an attitude; and the entertainment began. - -I do not know how many songs he sang. He passed from one to another -with amazing facility, discoursing between the verses upon topics well -suited to the taste and comprehension of his audience. His songs were -not new, and the tales that he told were neither true nor relevant; but -they served their purpose. He uplifted his voice and carried us all off -our feet. He conducted us over the whole of that field of Music Hall -humour which is confined within the following limits:-- - -(1) Alcoholic excess. - -(2) Personal deformity (e.g., Policemen's feet). - -(3) Conjugal infelicity; with which is incorporated Mothers-in-law. - -(4) Studies of insect life (e.g., Seaside lodgings). - -(5) Exaggerated metaphor (e.g., "Giddy kipper"). - -He enlarged upon all these, and illuminated each. He was unspeakably -vulgar, and irresistibly amusing. The crowd took him to their bosoms. -They roared at his gags; they sang his choruses; they clamoured for -more. - -I shouted with the rest. This was the real Dicky Mainwaring--the -unregenerate, unrestrained Freak of our undergraduate days--my friend -given back to me in his right mind after a lamentable period of eclipse. -My heart swelled foolishly. - -"Chorus once more, please, gentlemen!" shouted Dicky. "Last time!" - -[Illustration: "CHORUS ONCE MORE, PLEASE, GENTLEMEN!"] - -The refined and elevating pæan rolled forth, Dicky conducting:-- - - "Beer, Beer, glorious Beer! - Fill yourself right up to here! - (_Illustrative gesture._) - Take a good deal of it, - Make a good meal of it--" - - -With head thrown back and mouth wide open, I shouted with the -rest--and--caught the eye of Miss Hilda Beverley! She was standing -exactly opposite to me on the other side of the circle. Next moment she -was gone. - - ---- - -It was the accompanist who gave in first. For nearly half an hour his -aged but nimble fingers had followed the singer's most extravagant -flights, and he now began obviously to falter. - -Dicky seized this opportunity to conclude his performance. - -"That is all, gentlemen," he said, with a flourish of his hat. "I know -no more. Thank you for your kind attention and assistance. But don't -go away. I am going to ask the Colonel here to carry his hat round." - -He signalled to the small pale-faced boy to take up a collection, but -the child hung back shyly. Evidently he was not accustomed to -enthusiastic audiences. Dicky accordingly borrowed his cone-shaped -headpiece and set to work himself. - -Touch your neighbour's heart, and his pocket is at your mercy. The bell -was ringing for the last race, but not a man in that crowd stirred until -he had contributed to Dicky's collection. Silver and copper rained into -the cap. I saw one sturdy old farmer clap Dicky upon the shoulder with -a "Good lad! good lad!" and drop in half-a-crown. - -Then the audience melted away as suddenly as it had collected, and we -five were left--Dicky, myself, the old man, his daughter, and the -recently gazetted Colonel. The daughter still sat limply upon the -grass. Dicky crossed over to her and emptied the collection into her -lap. - -"You had better tie that up in a handkerchief," he said. He spoke -awkwardly. He was no longer an inspired comedian--only a shy and -self-conscious schoolboy. My thoughts flew back to a somewhat similar -scene in a third-class carriage on the Great Eastern Railway many years -before. - -The woman was crying softly. Her tears--those blessed faith-restoring -tears that come to people who encounter kindness when they thought that -the world held no more for them--dropped one by one upon the pile of -coins in her lap. She caught Dicky's hand, and clung to it. The Freak -cleared his throat in a distressing manner, but said nothing. Far away -we could hear the roar of the crowd, watching the last race. - -"I must be going now," said Dicky at length. "I hope you will soon get -rid of your cough and have good luck again. We all get under the -weather sometimes, don't we? Good-bye! Good-bye, Colonel!" - -The officer addressed fixed round and wondering eyes upon the eccentric -stranger, but made no remark. - -"Good-bye, sir," said the woman. "God--" - -Dicky released his hand gently and turned deferentially to the old -gentleman, who was still sitting patiently at his harp. - -"Thank you very much, sir," he said, speaking like a polite -undergraduate to an aged don who has just entertained him to dinner, -"for your splendid accompaniments. I can't imagine how you contrived to -follow me as you did. I'm a pretty erratic performer, I 'm afraid. -Good-bye!" - -He held out his hand. - -The old man struggled to his feet, and gave a little old-fashioned bow, -but disregarded Dicky's proffered hand. - -"Good-bye, sir," he said, "and thank you kindly for what you have done -for us." - -"Would you mind putting your hand in his, sir?" said the woman to Dicky. -"He can't see it. He's blind," she added apologetically. - -Five minutes later we found ourselves back at the railings. The motor -was already purring, and Romulus and Remus had been put into the -victoria. - -Miss Damer hastened up to us. Her brown eyes looked very soft. - -"Dicky dear," she said tremulously, "we all saw you, and I think you are -a brick. But keep away from Hilda for a bit." - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE ONLY WAY OUT - - -The ladies, pleading fatigue after their long day, retired early, -bringing a somewhat oppressive evening to a timely conclusion. Dinner -had been a constrained function, for Miss Beverley's aloofness had cast -a gloom upon the spirits of her _fiancé_, and the rest of us had joined -with him in a sort of sympathetic melancholy. In the drawing-room -afterwards Mr. Crick, whose ebullient soul chafed beneath what he termed -"compulsory hump," sat down at the piano and treated us to a musical -sketch,--something humorous but lingering. Whereupon Lady Adela awoke -out of her sleep, and with a disregard for the performer's feeling that -was almost indecent, cut short the entertainment and shepherded her -flock to the upper regions. - -The four gentlemen adjourned to the billiard-room. Here Mr. Mainwaring -and Crick set about a game of billiards--fifty up--at which the latter, -with a loftiness of spirit which his subsequent performance entirely -failed to justify, insisted upon conceding his elderly opponent -twenty-five points. Aided by this generous subsidy and by the fact that -the scratch player, in bringing off some delicate long shots into the -top pocket, more than once omitted the formality of glancing off one of -the other balls on the way, our host made quite surprising progress. -His own contributions to the score were mainly derived from a monotonous -but profitable system of potting the white and leaving his opponent a -double balk. Indeed, the old gentleman reached his points before Mr. -Crick had accomplished a feat vaguely described by himself as "getting -the strength of the table." Mr. Mainwaring then trotted happily -upstairs to bed, followed very shortly afterwards by his highly incensed -play-fellow. - -As the door closed, Dicky put down his pipe and turned to me. - -"Bill, old man," he said, "I don't often face facts; but this time I -admit that I have fairly torn the end off things." - -"You are in disgrace, my boy," I agreed. "What are you going to do about -it?" - -Dicky pondered, and finally summed up. - -"The fact is," he said, "I am not up to Hilda's standard, and never -shall be." - -I rose, and took my stand upon that tribunal beloved of the Briton--the -hearthrug--and looked down upon my friend's troubled countenance. - -"Dicky," I began, having blown my nose nervously, "you and I don't -usually go deeply into these matters together; but--do you love that -girl?" - -We two regarded one another deliberately for a minute, and then Dicky -shook his head. - -"I do not," he said at last. "Not more, that is, than I love half a -dozen others. I suppose the truth is," he continued, relighting his -pipe, "that I don't quite realise the meaning of the word--yet. Some -day, perhaps, the big thing will come to me; but until it does and wipes -out everything else, I shall go on imagining, as at present, that I am -in love with every girl who happens to attract me or whom I happen to -attract--if such a thing is possible. Nature, I suppose--just Nature! -Just now I am making the instinctive involuntary experiments that every -man must make, and go on making, until he encounters his right mate. -Some men, I imagine, are luckier than others. They are not inflammable. -They do not make false starts or get down blind alleys. I believe you -are one, Tiny, but there are not many. With women, I believe, it is -different. They have more intuition than men, and can tell almost -immediately whether they have found the goods this time or not. But the -average man must just go blundering on, making an ass of himself, and -learning by experience. I fall into love readily enough, but have never -been able to stay there. That is my trouble. I am therefore forced to -the conclusion that I have never really been in love at all." - -"That is because you have never met _the_ girl, Freak." - -"Possibly; but there is another explanation, and that is that I am -incapable of a sustained affection under any circumstances whatever. -However, you may take it from me that such is not the case. I _know_ -that. I can't explain it or prove it, but I know it. What I really -want--but I have n't met one so far--is a girl who will fall in love -with me, and _show_ it--show that she is willing to burn her boats for -me. A good many young women, estimable creatures, have indicated that -they care for me a little, but not one has done it in the way I have -described. I don't believe that I could ever really throw myself -absolutely headlong into love with a girl unless I knew in my heart that -she was prepared to do the same for me. They are all so cautious, so -self-contained, so blooming independent, nowadays, that a man simply -cannot let himself go on one of them for fear she should turn round and -laugh at him. But if a girl once confided to me that she wanted to -entrust herself to me--body and soul, for better, for worse, and so -on--without any present-day stipulations about maintaining her -independence and preserving her individuality, and stuff of that -kind--well, good-bye to all indecision or uncertainty on my part! What -man who called himself a man could resist such an appeal as that--a -genuine whole-hearted appeal from weakness to strength? (Not that I am -exactly a model of strength," he commented, with a disarming smile; "but -I know I soon should be, if such an honour were done me.) Weakness to -strength! That's what it comes to in the end, old man, whatever the -modern advanced female may say. Male and female created He them--eh? -When I do meet that girl--perhaps she is the girl the old gipsy foretold -for me to-day--I shall love her, and slave for her, and fight for her, -so long as we both live, just because she is so utterly dependent on me. -That is what brings out the best in a man. Unfortunately, I have not -yet met her. When I do you may take it from me that I shall cease to be -a Freak. Amen! Here endeth the First Lesson. There will be no -collection." - -His discourse thus characteristically concluded, my friend sat silent -and pensive. - -This was quite a new Dicky to me. - -"You appear to have studied the question deeply and scientifically," I -said, frankly impressed. - -"My lad," replied Dicky with feeling, "if you possessed a disposition as -flighty as mine--" - -"Quixotic," I amended. - -"All right--as quixotic as mine, and were also blessed with a dear old -mother who spent her life confronting you with attractive young women -with a view to matrimony, you would begin to study the question deeply -and scientifically too. I am only a Freak, and all that, but I don't -want to make a mess of a girl's life if I can help it; and that, old -friend, owing to my susceptible nature and gentle maternal pressure from -the rear, is exactly what I am in great danger of doing. I have had to -mark time pretty resolutely of late, I can tell you. And that brings us -to the matter in hand. Hilda and I seem to have reached the end of our -tether. Something has got to be done." - -"It is just possible," I said, "that Miss Beverley has done it already." - -"What?" - -"It--the only thing that ought to be done." - -"What do you mean?" - -"When the others went upstairs to bed Miss Hilda retired into an inner -drawing-room and sat down at a writing-table. There is no post out of -here until lunch-time to-morrow. Therefore she was probably writing to -some one in the house." - -Dicky nodded comprehendingly. - -"Proceed, Sherlock," he said. - -"To whom was she writing?" I enquired. - -Dicky thought. - -"To me," he announced at length. "Economical hobby. No stamps -required. Well?" - -"Supposing," I continued, "that Miss Beverley has been writing to you -to-night--what then?" - -"I shall receive a letter from her in the morning," concluded Dicky. -"Eh? Wrong answer? Sorry! What will happen, then?" - -"You will get your letter to-night." - -Dicky looked doubtful. - -"Where? When?" he asked. - -"That's it. Where and when?" - -Dicky pondered. - -"On my pin-cushion, when I go upstairs to bed," he said at -last--"although it strikes me as a most unmaidenly action for Hilda." - -"So unmaidenly," I replied, "that you will probably find the letter on -the hall table by your candle. Come and see." - -My faith in Miss Beverley's sense of propriety was fully justified, for -we found the letter in the hall beside the candlesticks exactly as I had -foretold. Probably it had not lain there more than five minutes. - -"What do you think of that?" I enquired. - -"By Heavens, Holmes," exclaimed Dicky, who after his late lofty flight -had characteristically relapsed into one of his most imbecile moods, -"this is wonderful!" - -We bore the letter back to the billiard-room. - -"Four sheets!" murmured The Freak dejectedly. "Well, the longer I look -at them the less I shall like them. Here goes!" - -He began to unfold the crackling document. - -"What is that protuberance down there, between your finger and thumb?" I -enquired. "It may epitomise the letter for you." - -Dicky turned the envelope upside down, and shook it over the -billiard-table. Something fell out, rolled a short distance, and lay -sparkling and shimmering on the green cloth. - -Dicky picked up the ring very slowly, and regarded it long and intently. -Then he turned to me. - -"Thank God!" he said, softly and quite reverently; and I knew he spoke -less for himself than for a certain superior young woman upstairs, who -considered him flippant, lacking in depth, and altogether unworthy of -her. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - STILL AT LARGE - - -I saw very little of The Freak the following winter. For one thing, I -went abroad again. The Government of the Auricula Protectorate had -decided to connect their capital with the sea by means of a canal. I -happened to know the district, for I had been engaged eight years -previously upon the great dam, thirty miles from Auricula, which now -holds in beneficent restraint the turbid waters of the Rumbolo River. I -accordingly applied for work in connection with the scheme. By the -greatest luck in the world one Vandeleur, C.B., a magnate of no small -standing in the Auricula district, happened to be home on leave. He had -visited my dam in his official capacity, and had noted that it was still -standing. He spoke the word, and I got my canal. - -The next four months I spent upon the continent of Africa, sketching, -surveying, and drawing up specifications. Then I came home to be -married. - -At the very first dinner-party to which we were bidden on our return -from our honeymoon I encountered The Freak. - -I saw him first, so to speak. Covers had been laid, as they say in -country newspapers, for twenty-two persons. My wife, through the -operation of an inscrutable but inexorable law, had been reft from my -side, and was now periodically visible through a maze of table -decorations, entertaining her host with what I could not help regarding -as the most unfeeling vivacity and cheerfulness. I began to take an -inventory of the company. We had been a little late in arriving--to be -precise, the last--and I had had no opportunity of observing my -fellow-guests. My own partner was a Mrs. Botley-Markham, an old -acquaintance of mine. She combined short sight and an astonishingly -treacherous memory for names and faces with a rooted conviction that the -one infallible sign of good breeding is never to forget a name or a -face. ("A truly _Royal_ attribute," she had once announced in my -presence.) I was therefore agreeably surprised to find that she -remembered not merely my face, but my name and _métier_. After putting -me at my ease with a few kindly and encouraging remarks upon the subject -of canals, she turned to her other neighbour. - -"Dear Sir Arthur," I heard her say, "this is indeed a pleasant -surprise!" - -"Dear lady," replied a hearty voice, "the pleasure is entirely mine." - -I leaned carelessly forward to inspect the menu, and shot a sidelong -glance in the direction of Sir Arthur. I was right. It was The Freak, -in his most acquiescent mood. I wondered what his surname was, and -whether he knew it. - -"We had such a teeny talk last time we met," continued Mrs. -Botley-Markham. "Now we can chat as long as we please." - -Heaving a gentle sigh of relief, Mrs. Botley-Markham's rightful -dinner-partner helped himself to a double portion of the _entrée_ and -set to work. - -The chat commenced forthwith. - -"And how is Gipsy?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham. - -"Gipsy," replied Sir Arthur without hesitation, "is top-hole." - -"How quaint and original you always are in your expressions!" cooed my -neighbour. "But I am so glad to hear about Gipsy. Then the dear thing -has quite recovered?" - -"Absolutely," replied Dicky courageously. - -Mrs. Botley-Markham cooed again. Then she enquired, confidentially:-- - -"Now tell me, what _was_ it?" - -"What _was_ it?" echoed The Freak cautiously. "Ah!" - -"Yes; what _was_ it?" pursued his interlocutor, much intrigued. "Don't -tell me they never found out!" - -"Never. At least," admitted The Freak guardedly, "not for some time." - -"Then they actually operated without being sure?" exclaimed Mrs. -Botley-Markham, shuddering. - -Dicky, making up his arrears with a portion of quail, inclined his head -gravely, and the quail reached its destination. - -"And when they did find out," pursued Mrs. Botley-Markham, clasping her -hands--she had finished her quail--"what _was_ it? Tell me, dear Sir -Arthur!" - -Sir Arthur cogitated for a moment, and then took the plunge. - -"It was clavicle," he said solemnly. - -Assuming that my friend was labouring under the same disadvantage as -myself--namely, inability to decide whether Gipsy was a woman, child, -horse, dog, cat, or monkey--to invent a mysterious and non-committal -disease upon the spur of the moment struck me as quite a stroke of -genius on Dicky's part. Connie would enjoy hearing about this. - -"How truly terrible!" said Mrs. Botley-Markham, in an awe-struck voice. -"Clam--clavicle is a very rare disease, is it not?" - -"Rare and mysterious," replied my friend in the same tone. "In fact, -the doctor--" - -"You mean Sir Herbert?" - -"No, the other blo--the other gentleman--the anæsthetist, you know! He -told me that he had never encountered a case of it before." - -"How truly terrible!" said Mrs. Botley-Markham again. "And all the time -you suspected appendicitis." - -The Freak acquiesced readily. Here was light. Gipsy apparently was -human--not equine, canine, feline, or simian. - -"And the little one?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham tenderly. - -I held my breath. Sir Arthur had reached his second fence. - -"The little one," he replied after consideration, "is doing nicely. Not -so very little, though, when you come to think of it," he continued, -boldly taking the initiative. - -"Has she grown so big, then?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham, -unconsciously giving away another point. The little one's sex was -determined. Certainly it was an exhilarating game. - -"Quite extraordinary," said Dicky. "How big," he continued cunningly, -"would you imagine she was now?" - -"Not as big as my Babs?" cried Mrs. Botley-Markham incredulously. - -"That," replied The Freak, "is just exactly how big she is." There was -the least tinge of disappointment in his voice. Evidently he had hoped -for something more tangible. For purposes of mensuration Babs was -useless to him. - -"Why 'just exactly'?" enquired Mrs. Botley-Markham doubtfully. "You are -very precise about it." - -"We met Babs in the Park the other day," replied the audacious Dicky, -"and compared them." - -Mrs. Botley-Markham frankly gaped. - -"But, dear Sir Arthur," she exclaimed--"How?" - -"How does one compare--er--little ones?" was the evasive reply of Sir -Arthur. - -The outraged parent turned upon him. - -"You mean to say you laid those two innocents side by side upon the wet -grass," she gasped, "and--" - -"It was nearly dry," said Dicky soothingly. - -I choked noisily, for I was rapidly losing self-control; but neither of -the performers in the duologue took the slightest notice of me. - -"I shall speak to my nurse to-morrow morning," announced Mrs. -Botley-Markham firmly. "I cannot imagine what she was thinking about." - -"Don't be hard on her," begged Dicky. "It was my fault entirely." - -"It certainly was _very_ naughty of you," said Mrs. Botley-Markham, -already relenting, "but I forgive you--there!" She tapped the eccentric -Sir Arthur playfully upon the arm. "Tell me, though, what does Gwladys -weigh? Mere bigness in children is so often deceptive." - -Even assuming that Gwladys was also the Little One, it was obvious that -Dicky had not yet cleared his second fence. I began vaguely to -calculate what a healthy child should weigh. A thirty-pound salmon, for -instance--how would that compare with a fat baby? But Dicky made a -final and really brilliant effort. - -"Fourteen point eight," he said promptly. - -"I beg your pardon?" replied Mrs. Botley-Markham. - -"Fourteen point eight cubic centimetres," repeated The Freak in a firm -voice. "That is the metric system of weights and measures. It is the -only accurate and scientific method. All the big doctors have taken to -it, you will find. I never allow any other to be employed where Gwladys -is concerned. I strongly advise you," he added earnestly, "to have Babs -weighed in the same manner. Everybody's doing it now," he concluded -lyrically. - -Mrs. Botley-Markham quivered with pleasure. An opportunity of getting -ahead of the fashion does not occur to us every day. - -"I will certainly take your advice, dear Sir Arthur," she replied. -"Tell me, where does one get it done?" - -"At the British Museum, between seven and eight in the morning," replied -The Freak, whose pheasant was growing cold. "And now, dear lady, tell -me everything that you have been doing lately." - -Mrs. Botley-Markham, being nothing loath, launched forth. She even -found time to re-include me in the conversation, disturbing my -meditations upon the strenuous awakening which awaited poor Babs upon -the morrow with an enquiry as to whether my canal was to contain salt -water or fresh. But she had not finished with Dicky yet. Suddenly she -turned upon him, and remarked point-blank:-- - -"How pleased the Stantons will be!" - -"Indeed, yes!" replied The Freak enthusiastically. - -At the sound of his voice I trembled. We had reached the dessert, and -with port in sight, so to speak, it was impossible to tell what -foolishness he might not commit. - -"In fact," he continued shamelessly, "I happen to know that they are not -merely pleased but ecstatic. I saw them yesterday." - -"Where?" asked Mrs. Botley-Markham. - -"Dear lady," replied Dicky, smiling, "where does one invariably meet the -Stantons?" - -"You mean at the Archdeacon's?" said Mrs. Botley-Markham. - -"I do," said my reprobate friend. "They had all been down the Str--I -mean to the Pan-Mesopotamian Conference," he added quite gratuitously. - -"Ah, of course; they would," assented Mrs. Botley-Markham hazily, -evidently wondering whether she ought to have heard of the -Pan-Mesopotamian Conference. "Were they all there?" - -"All but the delicate one," replied The Freak, abandoning all restraint. - -"Do you mean Isobel?" - -"Yes," replied the graceless Richard--"I do. Poor Isobel!" he added -gently. - -"I am afraid they are not a strong family," said Mrs. Botley-Markham, -with a sympathetic glance which rather alarmed me. I foresaw -complications. - -The Freak wagged his head gloomily. - -"No; a weak strain, I fear." - -"I hope--I _hope_," said Mrs. Botley-Markham, evidently choosing her -words with care and tact, "that the weakness does not extend to Gipsy." - -Then Gipsy was connected with the Stantons! Freak would have to walk -warily. But at this moment his attention was wandering in the direction -of our hostess, who was beginning to exhibit symptoms of upheaval with a -view to withdrawal. He replied carelessly:-- - -"No. Why should it?" - -Mrs. Botley-Markham, a little offended and flustered at being taken up -so sharply, replied with exaggerated humility:-- - -"I only _meant_, dear Sir Arthur, that if one sister is delicate, -possibly another may be slightly inclined--" - -Then Isobel and Gipsy were sisters. I knew it! - -At this moment the hostess gave the mystic sign, and the company rose. -Freak turned a sad and slightly reproachful gaze upon Mrs. -Botley-Markham. - -"You are forgetting, dear lady," he said gently. "Isobel and Gipsy are -not related. Isobel was the sister of my poor first wife." - -He drew back Mrs. Botley-Markham's chair with grave courtesy, and that -afflicted lady tottered down the room and out of the door, looking like -the Leaning Tower of Pisa. - - -The Freak and I resumed our seats. - -"Dear Sir Arthur," I said, "are you a knight or a baronet?" - -Before this point of precedence could be settled, our host called to us -to move up higher. - -"I want to introduce you to Sir Arthur Twigg, Mainwaring," he said, -indicating a pleasant-looking youth strongly resembling Dicky in -appearance and bearing. - -"Come to lunch with me to-morrow, Tiny," said Dicky hurriedly to me. - -A few minutes later I heard him regretfully explaining to his host that -an important legal consultation in his chambers at ten o'clock that -evening would prevent him from joining the ladies afterwards in the -drawing-room. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT - - -Next day I lunched with The Freak in Hall in the Inner Temple, where I -was introduced by my host to the surrounding company as a "distinguished -engineer, who had dammed the Nile several times and was now prepared to -speak disrespectfully of the Equator." - -After luncheon Dicky suggested that I should walk round with him to his -chambers in Bolton Street. It was a murky December afternoon. Christmas -shopping had set in with its usual severity, and visitors from the -country, armed with sharp-cornered parcels, surged tumultuously along -the wrong side of every pavement, while the ordinary citizens of London -trudged resignedly in the gutter. - -Dicky, quite undisturbed by the press, continued the conversation. - -"Yes, the family are all very fit," he said. "You must come and stay -with us. I shall give myself a week's holiday at Christmas and take you -and Connie down to Shotley Beauchamp, and we will have a pop at -Ethelbert, our pheasant, and discuss the days that are no more." - -"Talking of the days that are no more," I began, stepping aside to avoid -a stout lady carrying an inverted baby under one arm and an imperfectly -draped rocking-horse under the other, "what has become--" - -"Hilda Beverley--eh?" replied Dicky cheerfully. "I'll tell you all about -her. (Don't apologise, sir, really! After all, I still have an eye -left, and you very nearly lost your umbrella.) She is engaged, if not -married, to an Oxford Don. I believe they are very happy. They go out -and sing an ode to Apollo every morning before breakfast, or something -of that kind." - -A wedge of excursionists clove its way between us, and it was with a -voice unconsciously raised that I remarked from the gutter:-- - -"You had an escape that time, my lad." - -"Not at all!" yelled Dicky loyally from the other side of the pavement. -("Mind that kiddie's balloon, old son!) No," he continued, as we -converged once more, "I had a very profitable six months. Hilda took -immense pains with me, and it was n't her fault that I turned out a -failure." - -Presently I asked a question which always rose to my lips when I met -Dicky after any considerable interval. - -"Have your family any fresh matrimonial irons in the fire for you at -present?" I enquired. - -"No," replied my friend, "I rejoice to say they have not. The market is -utterly flat. The Hilda Beverley slump knocked the bottom out of -everything, and for the last half-year I have been living a life of -perfect peace. I am settling down to a contented spinsterhood," he -added, to the obvious surprise and consternation of a grim-looking -female in a blue mackintosh who had become wedged between us. "In a few -years I shall get a tabby cat and a sampler, and retire to end my days -in the close of some quiet cathedral city." - -The female in the mackintosh, by dint of using her elbows as levers and -our waistcoats as fulcrums, heaved herself convulsively out of our -company and disappeared in the crowd, probably in search of police -protection. Dicky and I came together again. - -"Occasionally," he continued fraternally, "I shall come and stay with -you and Connie, and give you advice as to--Bill! Tiny! My son William! -Look at that girl's face! Did you catch her profile? Did you ever see -anything so lovely in all your life?" - -We had reached that spot in the narrowest part of Piccadilly where all -the omnibuses in the world seem to stop to take up passengers. Dicky's -fingers had closed round my left biceps muscle with a grip like iron. I -turned and surveyed him. His cheery good-tempered face was transfigured: -his eyes blazed. - -"Look!" he said again, pointing. He was trembling like a nervous -schoolgirl. - -But I was just too late. All I saw was a trim lithe young -figure--rather like Connie's, I thought--stepping on to an omnibus. -(When I told the story at home I was at once asked how she was dressed, -but naturally could not say.) I caught sight of a pair of slim square -shoulders, a good deal of pretty brown hair, and finally a pair of neat -black shoes, as their owner deftly mounted to the top of the swaying -vehicle. - -"I just missed her face, old man," I replied. "Was she pretty?" - -Here I stopped. To address empty air in Piccadilly for any length of -time causes one to incur the unworthy suspicions of the bystanders. It -also causes a crowd to collect, which is an indictable offence. - -For I was alone. Afar off, pursuing a motor-omnibus just getting into -its top speed, I beheld the flying figure of my friend. Presently he -overtook the unwieldy object of his pursuit, hopped on board, and -proceeded to climb to the top. - -At this moment the omnibus reached Bond Street--the first turning to the -right--swung round the corner, and disappeared. - - - - - BOOK THREE - - THE RIGHT ROAD - - - - NOTE - -The main idea of Book Three was suggested by a very minor episode in the -closing chapters of 'A Man's Man.' The usual acknowledgments are -therefore made to the author of that work. - - - - CHAPTER XII - - MICE AND MEN - - -"Sylvia, is your father in from his walk?" - -Miss Sylvia Mainwaring, attired in a sage-green robe and distressingly -rational boots, turned and surveyed her male parent's recumbent form -upon the sofa. - -"Yes, mother mine," she replied. (Sylvia was rather addicted to little -preciosities of this kind.) - -"Is he awake?" - -"He is reading 'The Spectator,' Mother," was the somewhat Delphic -response. - -"Then ring for tea, dear." - -It was a bleak Saturday afternoon in late February. Darkness was -closing in, and the great fire in the hall at The Towers flickered -lovingly upon our leading weekly review, which, temporarily diverted -from its original purpose in order to serve as a supplementary waistcoat -for Mr. Mainwaring, rose and fell with gentle regularity in the warm -glow. - -Mr. Mainwaring's daughter rang a bell and switched on the electric light -with remorseless severity; his wife came rustling down the broad oak -staircase; and Mr. Mainwaring himself, realising that a further folding -of the hands to sleep was out of the question, peeled off "The -Spectator" and sat up. - -"Abel," observed Lady Adela--her husband's baptismal name was a -perpetual thorn in her ample flesh, but she made a point of employing it -on all occasions, as a sort of reducing exercise to her family -pride--"tea will be here in a moment." - -Mr. Mainwaring rose to his feet. He was an apologetic little gentleman, -verging on sixty, with a few wisps of grey hair brushed carefully across -his bald head. At present these were hanging down upon the wrong side, -giving their owner a mildly leonine appearance. A kindly, shy, -impulsive man, Abel Mainwaring was invariably mute and ill at ease -beneath the eye of his wife and daughter. Their patrician calm -oppressed him; and his genial expansive nature only blossomed in the -presence of his erratic but affectionate son. - -"Tea?" he exclaimed with mild alacrity--"Who said tea?" - -"Abel," announced Lady Adela in tones which definitely vetoed any -further conversational openings originating in tea, "I think it only -right to tell you that a visitor may arrive at any moment; and your -present appearance, to put it mildly, is hardly that of the master of a -large household." - -"My dear, I fly!" said Mr. Mainwaring hurriedly, and disappeared. At -the same moment there was a tinkle in the back premises. - -"There goes the front-door bell," said Sylvia. "I never heard the -carriage. Can it be Connie already?" - -"A caller, probably," sighed her mother. "How tiresome people are. See -who it is, Milroy, and then bring tea." - -The butler, who had entered from the dining-room, crossed the hall to -the curtained alcove which screened the front door. - -"Hardly a caller on an afternoon like this," said Sylvia, shivering -delicately. "It is raining in sheets." - -"My experience," replied Lady Adela peevishly, "has always been that -when one's neighbours have made up their minds to be thoroughly -annoying, no weather will stop them." - -Simultaneously with this truthful but gloomy reflection Lady Adela -composed her fine features into an hospitable smile of welcome and rose -to her feet. - -"Misterilands!" announced Milroy, drawing back the curtain of the outer -hall. - -Lady Adela, still smiling, rolled an enquiring eye in the direction of -her daughter. - -"New curate!" hissed Sylvia. - -Through the curtained archway advanced a short, sturdy, spectacled young -man, dumbly resisting Mr. Milroy's gracious efforts to relieve him of -his hat and stick. - -Lady Adela extended her hand. - -"How do you do, Mr. Highlands?" she enquired, as the ruffled Milroy, -shaken off like an importunate limpet, disappeared into the dining-room. - -"My name," replied the visitor apologetically, "is Rylands--not -Highlands." - -"How stupid of me!" said Lady Adela condescendingly. "But my butler is -a most inarticulate person, and in any case we give him the benefit of -the doubt where H's are concerned." - -"It's of no consequence," Mr. Rylands assured her. "Oh, I beg your -pardon!" - -He picked up his walking-stick, which had fallen upon the polished floor -with a shattering crash, and continued breathlessly:-- - -"The fact is, Lady Adela, the Archdeacon asked me to come round this -afternoon and warn Mr.--Mr.--" he was uncertain of Mr. Mainwaring's -exact status and title, so decided to hedge--"your husband, about the -First Lesson in to-morrow morning's service. The Arch-deacon--" - -"Be seated, Mr. Rylands," said Lady Adela, in the voice which she -reserved for golfers, politicians, and other people who attempted to -talk shop in her presence. "My husband will be downstairs presently. -This is my--" - -"The Archdeacon," continued the conscientious Rylands, "thinks it would -be better to substitute an alternative Lesson--" - -At this point his walking-stick, which he had after several efforts -succeeded in leaning against the corner of the mantelpiece, fell a -second time upon the floor, and a further hail of apology followed. - -"--An alternative Lesson to-morrow morning," he resumed pertinaciously, -"in view of the fact that certain passages--" - -"This is my daughter Sylvia," said Lady Adela coldly. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the curate to Sylvia, starting up and -dropping his hat. "I did n't see you. My glasses are rather dimmed by -the rain. I have come here," he recommenced rapidly, evidently hoping -for a more receptive auditor this time, "at the request of the -Arch-deacon, to see Mr.--your father--about an alteration in the First -Lesson to-morrow--" - -"I don't think you need trouble, Mr. Rylands," replied the dutiful -Sylvia. "My father will probably read the wrong Lesson in any case." - -"Who is taking my name in vain?" enquired the playful voice of Mr. -Mainwaring, as its owner, newly kempt, descended the stairs. - -"This is Mr. Rylands, Abel, who has recently come among us," said Lady -Adela. "To assist the Archdeacon," she added, with feeling. - -Mr. Mainwaring shook hands with characteristic friendliness. - -"Welcome to Shotley Beauchamp, Mr. Rylands!" he said warmly. - -"Thank you, sir, very much," replied the curate, flushing with pleasure. -"I have called," he continued with unabated enthusiasm--evidently he saw -port ahead at last--"at the request of the Archdeacon, with reference to -the First Lesson at Matins to-morrow. One of those rather -characteristic Old Testament passages--" - -"Mr. Rylands," interposed Lady Adela, with the air of one who cannot -stand this sort of thing much longer, "how many lumps of sugar do you -take?" - -"Four, please," replied Mr. Rylands absently, with his finger in Mr. -Mainwaring's buttonhole. - -Lady Adela's eyebrows rose an eighth of an inch. - -"Four, did you say?" - -The curate came suddenly to himself. - -"I beg your pardon," he said cringingly, "I meant none." - -"Then why did you specify four, Mr. Rylands?" enquired Sylvia, who -disliked what she called "vague" people. - -"Well, the fact is," explained the curate, in a burst of shy -confidence--"I always take four when I am alone in my lodgings. But -when I go out to tea anywhere, four always seems such a fearful lot to -ask for, that--oh, I beg your pardon!" - -He had stepped heavily back into a cake-stand, and _patisserie_ strewed -the hearthrug. - -But both crime and apology passed unnoticed, for at this moment Milroy, -who had crossed the hall a minute previously, reappeared at the -curtained entrance, and announced, in tones of intense personal -satisfaction:-- - -"Mrs. Carmyle!" - -Even the female Mainwarings had no eyes for any one else when Connie -Carmyle entered a room. - -During the mêlée of greetings and embraces which ensued, Mr. Rylands, -blessing the small deity who had descended to his aid, found time to -right a capsized plum-cake and restore four highly-speckled cylinders of -bread and butter to the plate on the bottom storey of the cake-stand. -He even succeeded in grinding a hopelessly leaky chocolate _éclair_ into -the woolly hearthrug with his heel. By the time that the Mainwarings -had removed their visitor's furs and escorted her to the fireplace, no -trace of the outrage remained. The undetected criminal sat nervously -upon the edge of an _art nouveau_ milking-stool in the chimney-corner, -waiting to be introduced. - -"This is Mr. Rylands, Connie," announced Lady Adela. "Mrs. Carmyle." - -"How do you do, Mr. Rylands?" said Connie, holding out her hand with a -friendly smile. - -Mr. Rylands, with an overfull teacup in one hand and a tiny plate -entirely obscured by an enormous bun in the other, rose cautiously to -his feet, and bestowing a sickly smile upon Mrs. Carmyle, entered at -once upon a series of perilous feats of legerdemain with a view to -getting a hand free. - -"Let me hold your cup for you," suggested Connie kindly. "That's -better!" - -The curate, gratefully adopting this expedient, ultimately succeeded in -wringing his benefactress by the hand. - -"What has the Archdeacon been up to lately?" enquired Connie, gently -massaging her fingers. - -The curate's face brightened. - -"It is curious that you should mention the Archdeacon's name," he said. -"The fact is, I have just come _from_ the Arch--" - -"Constance dear," enquired Lady Adela in trumpet tones, "did you see -anything of Dick on your way down?" - -"No, Lady Adela," said Connie, extending a slim foot towards the blazing -logs. ("Mr. Rylands, would you mind bringing me one of those little -cakes? No, not those--the indigestible-looking ones. Thank you so -much!) Are you expecting him for the week-end?" - -"Yes, but I am afraid there is a little disappointment in store for him. -I invited Norah Puncheon down--a sweet girl, Constance!--but at the last -moment she has had to go to bed with one of her throats." - -"Poor thing!" murmured Mrs. Carmyle absently. The reason for her own -invitation--by telegraph--had just been made apparent to her. - -"So perhaps you would not mind keeping Dick amused," concluded Lady -Adela. "You and he used to be such particular friends," she added -archly. - -"Bow-_wow_!" observed Mrs. Carmyle dreamily into Mr. Rylands's left ear. - -The curate choked, then glowed with gentle gratification. He realised -that he had come face to face at last with one of the Smart Set, of -which one heard so much nowadays. - -"The naughty boy," concluded the fond mother, "must have missed his -train." - -"The naughty boy," replied Mrs. Carmyle, "is probably coming down by the -four-fifteen. It is a much better train. Mr. Rylands, will you please -choose me a nice heavy crumpet?" - -"In that case," said Lady Adela, "he will probably be here in about half -an hour. Sylvia dear, will you go upstairs and see if Constance's room -is ready? I forgot to give orders about a fire." - -Sylvia obediently disappeared, and Lady Adela crossed the hall to a -chair under a lamp, where her husband was furtively perusing the evening -paper. Mr. Mainwaring was now favoured with a brief but masterly -display of the fast dying art of pantomime, from which he gathered -without any difficulty whatever that he was to remove himself and Mr. -Rylands to another part of the house, and that right speedily. - -Mr. Mainwaring coughed submissively, and rose. - -"Mr. Rylands, will you come and smoke a cigarette with me?" he said. - -"Second Chronicles?" remarked Connie's clear voice. "I shall look it up -during the sermon to-morrow." The Archdeacon's emissary had unburdened -his soul at last. - -Lady Adela extended a stately hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Rylands," she said. -"My husband insists on carrying you off to the smoking-room." - -Mr. Rylands, by this time hopelessly enmeshed in Connie Carmyle's net, -sprang guiltily to his feet. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "Good-bye! Good-bye, Mrs. -Carmyle!" - -He shook hands, gathered together his impedimenta, and hurried blindly -up the staircase. - -"Remember I am coming to hear you preach to-morrow," Connie called after -him, with a dazzling smile. "Morning or evening?" - -The godly but mesmerised youth halted, and broke out afresh. "I am -preaching at Evensong," he began, "but--" - -"This way, Mr. Rylands," said Lady Adela patiently, indicating her -husband, who was standing by a swing door at the opposite side of the -hall. - -Mr. Rylands, utterly confounded, pattered headlong downstairs again, and -disappeared with Mr. Mainwaring, still apologising. - -Lady Adela tapped Connie playfully but heavily upon the cheek. ("_Like -being tickled by a mastodon_" wrote that lady to her husband a short -time later.) - -"Constance dear," she said, with a reproving smile, "you are -incorrigible. Now let us sit down and have a cosy chat." - -The incorrigible one sat submissively down upon the sofa and waited. -She knew that her hostess had not rendered the hall a solitude for -nothing. - -Presently the cosy chat began. Not too suddenly, though. Lady Adela -first enquired after the health of Mr. Carmyle, and expressed regret -that he had been prevented from accompanying his wife to The Towers. - -"He was sent for about his wretched canal," explained Connie. "But he -saw me off at Waterloo, and promised to come down on Monday if he could -get away." - -"Is it the first time you have been parted?" asked Lady Adela. - -"Yes," said Connie, in quite a small voice. - -Her hostess, suddenly human, patted her hand. - -"The time will soon pass, dear," she said. "You will find this house -quiet but soothing. I like it much better than town myself. Mr. -Mainwaring is no trouble, and things are so cheap. The only drawback is -Sylvia. She dislikes the people about here." - -"By the way," enquired Connie, recovering her spirits, "what is Sylvia's -exact _line_ just at present? Last year it was slumming; the year -before it was poker-work, and the year before that it was Christian -Science. What does that sage-green gown mean? Don't tell me she has -become a Futurist, or a Post-Impressionist, or anything!" - -"I never attempt," replied Lady Adela, closing her eyes resignedly, "to -cope with Sylvia's hobbies. At present she is a Socialist of some kind. -She is evolving a scheme, I believe, under which the masses and classes -are to intermarry for the next twenty years. By that time, she -considers, social distinctions will have ceased to exist, and -consequently the social problem will have solved itself." - -Mrs. Carmyle nodded her head comprehendingly. - -"I see," she said, "it sounds a good idea. I shall start looking out in -the 'Morning Post' for the announcement of Sylvia's engagement to a -plumber. Just half a cup more, please." - -Lady Adela now decided to begin the cosy chat. She accordingly -discharged what is known on rifle-ranges as a sighting shot. - -"By the way, dear Constance, have you and your husband seen much of Dick -lately?" - -"Oh, we meet him about occasionally," replied Connie, casting about for -cover--"at parties, and so on." - -"I fear," continued Lady Adela, with what the police call "intent," -"that the poor boy is lonely." - -"The last time I saw him," replied Connie, "he was entertaining five -people to luncheon at the Trocadero. He did n't _look_ lonely." - -"There is a loneliness of spirit, dear," replied Lady Adela gently, "of -which some of us know nothing. I think it shows that Dick _must_ be -feeling lonely if he requires no less than five people to cheer him up." - -"I am sure you are right," said the obliging Mrs. Carmyle. - -"Was Norah Puncheon of the party, by any chance?" enquired Lady Adela -carelessly. - -"No. I did n't know any of the people. Is Norah a friend of Dicky's?" - -"They have seen a good deal of one another of late, I believe," replied -the diplomatic Lady Adela, much as a motorist with his radiator full of -feathers might admit having recently noticed a hen somewhere. -"Constance dear," she continued, coming in her maternal solicitude quite -prematurely to the point, "you are always so discreet. It is high time -Dick was married, and this time I really do think--no, I _feel_ it -instinctively--that Norah Puncheon is the right woman for him." - -"The right woman!" replied the late First Reserve pensively. "How awful -that always sounds! The wrong one is always so much nicer!" - -"My dear," exclaimed the horrified Lady Adela, "whoever put such a -notion into your head?" - -"Dicky. He told me so himself." - -"Has Norah Puncheon much influence over him, do you know?" continued -Lady Adela, falling back on to safer ground. - -"Yes, lots," replied Connie, stifling the tiniest of yawns. "There goes -your telephone." - -"Milroy will attend to it, dear. Let me see," pursued Lady Adela, with -studious vagueness--"what were we talking about?" - -"Norah Puncheon's influence over Dicky," replied Connie, popping a lump -of sugar into her mouth and crunching it with all the satisfaction of a -child of six. - -"You have noticed it yourself, then?" - -Connie, quite speechless, nodded. - -Lady Adela beamed. The scent was growing stronger. - -"In what way, dear?" she asked, with unfeigned interest. - -"Well," said Connie, after an interval of profound reflection, "Dicky -wanted to back Prince Caramel for the St. Leger, and Norah would n't let -him. He was so grateful to her afterwards!" - -Lady Adela summoned up a lopsided smile--the smile of a tarpon-fisher -who has pulled up a red herring. - -"I think her influence goes deeper than that, dearest," she rejoined in -patient reproof. "You, who only knew my son as a rather careless and -light-hearted boy, would hardly credit--" - -"A telephone message, my lady!" announced Milroy, appearing at the -dining-room door. - -Lady Adela, tripped up on her way to a striking passage, sighed with an -air of pathetic endurance, and enquired:-- - -"From whom, Milroy?" - -"From Mr. Richard, my lady." - -"Mr. Richard? Where is he?" - -"He has telephoned from Shotley Post-Office, my lady," replied Milroy, -keenly appreciating the mild sensation he was about to create; "to say -that he has arrived by the four-fifteen and is walking up." - -"_Walking_--on a night like this?" cried Lady Adela, all the mother in -her awake at once. "Tell him to wait, and I will send the motor." - -"Mr. Richard said he preferred walking, my lady," rejoined Milroy, -growing more wooden as he approached the _clou_ of his narrative. "He -said he would explain when he arrived. But the luggage-cart was to go -down." - -"For one portmanteau?" - -"For the young lady's trunks, my lady." - -"Young lady?" Lady Adela turned a puzzled countenance to her companion. -"Constance, dear, was not your luggage sent up with you?" - -"Yes," replied Connie, scenting fun; "it was. I fancy this must be some -other lady." - -Light broke in on Lady Adela. - -"Norah Puncheon, after all!" she exclaimed joyfully. "Her throat must -be better, and that headstrong son of mine has compelled her to come -down by the four-fifteen." - -"And walk up in the rain," supplemented Connie. - -"The thoughtless boy!" wailed Lady Adela insincerely. "He will give her -pneumonia." - -"Perhaps it is n't Miss Puncheon," suggested Connie soothingly. - -"But, my dear," said Lady Adela, refraining with great forbearance from -slapping the small but discouraging counsellor by her side, "who else -can it be?" She turned to Milroy. - -"Did Mr. Richard mention if he was bringing the young lady up with him?" -she asked. - -"Yes, my lady," replied Milroy with unction--"he did." - -"Did he mention her name, Milroy?" enquired Connie. - -"No, Miss. He just said 'the young lady.' Will there be anything -further, my lady?" - -"No," snapped Lady Adela; and her aged retainer, as feverishly anxious -beneath his perfectly schooled exterior to solve the mystery of his -beloved Master Dick's latest escapade as his mistress, departed to lay -another place for dinner. - -In the hall there was a long silence. The wind roared round the house, -and the rain drummed softly upon the diamond panes of the big oriel -window. - -"It might be some old friend of the family," said Lady Adela -hopefully--"some one whom Dick has encountered unexpectedly and invited -down. You know his impulsive, hospitable way! Aunt Fanny, perhaps." - -"A _young_ lady, I think Milroy said," replied the Job's comforter -beside her. - -"Perhaps," pursued Lady Adela, still endeavouring to keep her courage -up, "it is only one of the foolish boy's practical jokes." - -These speculations were cut short by the prolonged buzz of an electric -bell, followed by the sound of a spirited tattoo executed upon the -panels of the front door, apparently by a walking-stick. The Freak (and -party) had arrived. - -Lady Adela sat bolt upright, almost pale. - -"Mercy! here they are!" she said. - -Milroy, who had appeared from his lair with uncanny celerity, was -already in the outer hall. There was the sound of a heavy door being -opened; the curtains bulged out with the draught; and a voice was heard -uplifted in cheery greeting. - -Then the door banged, and Dicky Mainwaring appeared through the -curtains. - -He was alone, and very wet. - -"What ho, Mum!" he observed, after the fashion of the present -generation. - -"My son!" exclaimed Lady Adela, advancing with outstretched arms. - -Dicky, enduring a somewhat lengthy embrace, suddenly caught sight of a -small alert figure on the sofa. Curtailing the maternal caress as -gently as possible, he darted forward. - -"Connie!" he cried enthusiastically. "What tremendous luck meeting -you!" He shook his ancient ally by both hands. - -"I want you more at this moment," he continued earnestly, "than at any -other period of my life." - -Connie Carmyle pointed an accusing finger at him. - -"Dicky Mainwaring," she enquired sternly, "where is your lady friend?" - -"I was just going to introduce her," replied Dicky, with a rapturous -smile. "I wonder where she has got to, by the way. Found a mirror, I -expect." - -Then he raised his voice and cried:-- - -"Tilly!" - -"Hallo!" replied an extremely small voice; and a shrinking figure -appeared in the opening of the curtains. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - LUCIDITY ITSELF - - - I - - -"This, Mum," announced Dicky in tones of immense pride, "is Tilly. Miss -Welwyn, you know." - -He advanced to the girl, who still stood hesitatingly in the opening of -the curtains, and drew her forward by the hand. - -"Come along, little thing," he said, in a voice which made Connie -Carmyle's heart warm to him. "Don't be frightened. I present to you my -lady mother. You will know one another intimately in no time," he added -untruthfully. - -Miss Tilly Welwyn advanced with faltering steps. It was seen now that -she was _petite_, almost the same height and build as Connie Carmyle, -with great grey eyes and a pretty mouth. She was wrapped in a man's -Burberry coat, and wore a motor veil tied under her chin. Rain dripped -from her in all directions. Timidly she extended a glistening and -froggy paw in the direction of her hostess. - -"How do you do, Miss Weller?" said Lady Adela, mystified but well-bred. - -[Illustration: "HOW DO YOU DO, MISS WELLER?" SAID LADY ADELA, MYSTIFIED -BUT WELL-BRED] - -"Very well, thank you," replied the visitor in a frightened squeak. - -Dicky cheerfully set his parent right upon the subject of Miss Welwyn's -surname, and then introduced Mrs. Carmyle. - -"Tilly," he said, "this is Connie--one of the very best that ever -stepped! Don't forget that: you will never hear a truer word." - -The two girls regarded one another for a moment, and then shook hands -with instinctive friendliness. The small stranger's face cleared, and -she smiled, first at Connie and then up at Dicky. - -Thereafter came a pause. The atmosphere was tense with enquiry. One -could almost feel the Marconigrams radiating from Lady Adela. But -apparently The Freak's coherer was out of order. He merely turned -towards the staircase, and exclaimed:-- - -"Hallo, here are Dad and Sylvia. These are the last two," he added in a -reassuring undertone to Miss Welwyn. "Quite tame, both of them." - -Mr. Mainwaring's face lit up joyfully at the sight of his son, and he -hurried forward. - -"Dick, my boy, you've arrived at last! Capital!" He clapped the -prodigal on the shoulder. - -"Yes, Dad," replied Dicky with equal zest; "we have arrived. This is -Tilly!" - -Mr. Mainwaring, entirely at sea but innately hospitable, greeted Tilly -heartily. "You must be terribly cold," he said. "Come to the fire and -let me take off that wet garment of yours." - -He led the girl to the blaze, then turned to shoot a glance of -respectful enquiry in the direction of his august spouse. It was -ignored. Meanwhile Dicky had introduced the languid but far from -indifferent Sylvia. - -"Now you all know one another," he said. "Sylvia, be a dear old soul and -take Miss Welwyn up to your room and give her some dry things, will you? -She is soaking, and her luggage is n't here yet. You see," he added a -little lamely--Sylvia's patrician calm had rather dashed him as -usual--"we walked from the station--did n't we, Tilly?" - -Tilly nodded dutifully, eyeing Sylvia the while with some distrust. - -"You will take care of her, won't you?" concluded the solicitous Dicky. - -"Surely!" replied Sylvia, in her grandest manner. "This way, Miss -Welwyn." - -She swept across the hall and up the staircase, followed by the small, -moist, and mysterious figure of the newcomer. - -At the foot of the stair Tilly halted and looked back. Dicky, who had -been following her with his eyes, was at her side in a moment. - -"What is it?" he asked in a low voice. - -The girl laid an appealing hand on his arm. - -"Don't leave me, Dicky!" she whispered. - -The Freak replied by tucking her arm under his own and propelling her -vigorously up to the turn of the stair. - -"Don't be a little juggins," he said affectionately. "_I_ can't come and -change your shoes and stockings for you, can I?" - -Miss Welwyn, acquiescing in this eminently correct view of the matter, -smiled submissively. - -"All right," she said. "Au revoir!" - -She ran lightly upstairs after the disappearing Sylvia, turning to wave -her hand to Dicky before she disappeared. - -Dicky, who had waited below for that purpose, acknowledged the salute, -and turned to find Mrs. Carmyle at his elbow. - -"Dicky," announced that small Samaritan, "I am going up, too. Sylvia -might bite your ewe lamb." - -The Freak smiled gratefully. - -"The Lady and the Tiger--eh?" he said. "Connie, you are a brick! Be -tender with her, won't you?" he added gently. "She's scared to death at -present, and no wonder!" - -Connie Carmyle, with a reassuring pat upon the anxious young man's arm, -turned and sped upstairs. Dicky, hands in pockets and head in air, -strolled happily back into the circle of firelight and took up his stand -upon the hearthrug. Lady Adela, looking like a large volcano in the -very last stages of self-suppression, sat simmering over the teacups. - -The heir of the Mainwarings addressed his parents affectionately. - -"Well, dear old things," he enquired, "how are we? So sorry to be late -for tea, but it was an eventful and perilous journey." - -The long-overdue eruption came at last. - -"Dick," demanded Lady Adela explosively, "why have you brought that -young person here?" - -"Young per--oh, Tilly?" Dicky smiled ecstatically to himself at the -very sound of Miss Welwyn's name. "Tilly? Well, I don't see what else -I could have done with her, Mummie dear. I could n't leave her at the -station, could I? But I must tell you about our adventures. First of -all we lost Percy." - -"Dick," repeated Lady Adela, "_who--is--_?" - -"Who is Percy?" asked Dicky readily. "I forgot; I have n't told you -about Percy. He is her brother. A most amazing fellow: knows -everything. Can explain to you in two minutes all the things you have -failed to understand for years. Teach you something you did n't know, I -should n't wonder, Mother. He is going to introduce me to some of his -friends, and put me up for his club." - -"What club, my boy?" interposed Mr. Mainwaring, snatching at this gleam -of light in the general murkiness. - -"'The Crouch End Gladiators,' I think they 're called," said Dicky. -"But I have n't met any of them yet." - -"Where is Crouch End?" enquired Lady Adela. "And why should one have a -club there?" - -"It is a cycling club," explained Dicky. "You go out for spins in the -country on Saturday afternoons. Topping! I'll bring them down here one -day if you like! Each member is allowed to have one lady guest," he -added, with a happy smile. "But to resume. We lost friend Percy at -Waterloo. He went to get a bicycle ticket, or something, and was no -more seen. The train started without him. Tilly was fearfully upset -about it: said she thought it was n't quite proper for her to come down -without a chaperon on her first visit." - -"She proposes to come again, then?" said Lady Adela, with a short -quavering laugh. - -Dicky stopped short, and regarded his mother with unfeigned -astonishment. - -"Come again? I should think she was coming again! Anyhow, the poor -little thing was quite distressed when we lost Perce." - -"That, dear," remarked Lady Adela icily, "is what I should call -straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. And now, my boy, let me beg -you to tell me--" - -Dicky, who was too fully occupied with the recollections of his recent -journey to be aware of the physical and mental strain to which he was -subjecting his revered parents, suddenly started off down a fresh alley -of irrelevant reminiscence. - -"Talking of camels," he said, "there is the goat." - -"Bless my soul, my dear lad!" exclaimed Mr. Mainwaring. "What goat?" - -Dicky was perfectly ready to explain. - -"When Tilly and I got out of the train at Shotley Beauchamp station," he -began, "and found that you two absent-minded old dears had forgotten to -send anything to meet us--" - -"But Dick, my boy," interposed the old gentleman--Lady Adela was rapidly -progressing beyond the stage of articulate remonstrance--"how could your -mother be expected to divine your intentions with regard to trains, or -to know that you were bringing down--er--a guest?" - -"I wrote and told you," said Dicky. - -"When, pray?" enquired Lady Adela, finding speech again. - -"The day before yesterday," said Dicky positively; "breaking the news -about Tilly, and when we were coming, and--" - -"We received no letter from you," replied Lady Adela. - -"But I wrote it, Mum!" cried Dicky. "I spent three hours over it. It -was the most important letter I have ever written in my life! Is it -likely a man could forget--" - -"Feel in your pockets, my boy," suggested the experienced Mr. -Mainwaring. - -Dicky smiled indulgently upon his resourceful parent, and pulled out the -contents of his breast-pocket--a handful of old letters and a cigarette -case. - -"Anything to oblige you, Dad," he ran on, scanning the addresses. "But -I know I posted the thing. A man does not forget on such an oc-- No! -you are right. I'm a liar. Here it is!" - -He produced a fat envelope from the bunch, and threw it down upon the -tea-table. - - - - II - - -"I forgive you both," he said, smiling serenely, "for not sending to -meet us. Well, to return to the goat--" - -Veins began to stand out upon Lady Adela's patrician brow. - -"Richard," she exclaimed, in a low and vibrant tone--"for the last time, -_who is that young woman_?" - -Dicky stared down upon his afflicted parent in unaffected surprise, and -then dissolved into happy laughter. - -"I must tell Tilly about this," he roared. "Of course, now I come to -think of it, you don't know a thing about her. You never got my letter! -Fancy you two poor old creatures sitting there as good as gold and -wondering why I had brought her down here at all! Oh, my sainted -Mother!" - -"Who is she?" reiterated the sainted Mother, fighting for breath. - -"She is my little girl," replied Dicky proudly. "We're engaged." - -"I knew it," said Lady Adela, in a hollow voice. - -"And I have brought her down here to make your acquaintance, that's -all!" concluded the happy lover, apparently surprised that his -relationship to Miss Welwyn should ever have been a matter of doubt to -any one. "We met the goat outside the station--" - -Lady Adela uttered a deep groan. Mr. Mainwaring rose from his seat and -advanced upon his tall son, who still leaned easily against the -mantel-piece, with his feet upon the hearthrug and his head above the -clouds. - -"My dearest boy," he said, patting Dicky affectionately and coaxingly -upon the shoulder, "do you realise that you are our only son, and that -as such we take a not unreasonable interest in your welfare? Would you -mind postponing the goat for a moment and giving us a more explicit -account of the young lady? I had only the merest glimpse of her just -now," he concluded, doggedly avoiding his wife's eye, "but she struck me -as charming--charming!" - -Dicky's air of cheerful inanity fell from him like a cloak. Exultantly -he took his father by the shoulders. - -"Dad," he shouted, "she's the most blessed little darling that ever -walked this earth! She's a princess! She's a fairy! She's a--" - -The rhapsodist broke off short, and flushed red. - -"Forgive me," he said, "for waffling like that, but I don't quite know -what I 'm doing just at present. Dad, I'm the happiest man that ever -lived!" - -"My boy, my boy," cried little Mr. Mainwaring, "I'm glad--I'm glad!" - -And father and son, regardless of the feelings of the unfortunate lady -upon the sofa, proceeded to shake one another violently and continuously -by both hands. - -At last they desisted, a little sheepishly. - -"Abel," said a cold voice, "be seated. Dick, take that chair." - -Both gentlemen complied meekly. - -"I see," said Lady Adela, looking up from a rapid perusal of her son's -letter, "that the girl's name is Tilly Welwyn. Tilly, I presume, is an -abbreviation of Matilda?" - -"I don't know," confessed Dicky. "But Tilly will," he added brightly. -"She knows everything." - -"I notice," continued the Counsel for the Prosecution, still skimming -through the letter, "that you have known one another for a short time--" - -"Seven weeks, five days, four hours, and a few odd minutes," confirmed -the defendant, looking at his watch. - -"--And you became engaged as recently as last Sunday." Lady Adela laid -down the letter. "Where?" - -"On the top of a 'bus." - -"H'm!" said Mr. Mainwaring uneasily. - -"A rather unusual place, was it not?" enquired Lady Adela coldly. - -"Unusual," agreed Dicky readily, "but not irregular. Oh, no! Besides, -Percy was there, three seats behind. Perfect dragon of a chaperon, old -Perce! Yes, the proceedings were most correct, I promise you." - -"I note," continued Lady Adela, taking up the letter again, "that you do -not say where you made Miss Welwyn's acquaintance." - -"That was on the top of another 'bus," explained Dicky, with a disarming -smile. - -"And was her brother," enquired Lady Adela, ominously calm, "present on -_this_ occasion?" - -"Percy? Rather not! Otherwise I need not have interfered." - -"Int--" began both Lady Adela and Mr. Mainwaring together. - -"Yes," said Dicky glibly. "It was like this. The rain began to come -down hard, and a rather poisonous-looking bounder sitting beside her -offered her his umbrella." - -"Any gentleman would have done the same, Dick," interposed Mr. -Mainwaring quietly. - -"Yes, Dad. But I don't think any gentleman would have insisted on -paying a girl's fare for her; and I don't think any gentleman would have -considered a half-share in a three-and-ninepenny brolly an excuse for -putting his arm round a girl's waist," replied Dicky, with sudden -passion. - -"He did that?" - -"Yes." - -"What did you do?" - -Dicky grinned cheerfully. - -"I did a pretty bright thing," he said. "It was no business of mine, of -course, and I naturally did n't want to start a brawl on the top of a -Piccadilly omnibus--" - -"Dick, what were you doing on the top of an omnibus at all?" demanded -Lady Adela unexpectedly. "Such economies are a new feature of your -character." - -Dicky nodded his head sagely. - -"Yes," he agreed, "that's a sound point--a sound point. What _was_ I -doing on the top of that omnibus at all? That's the mystery. I was -extremely surprised myself. I have spent whole days since, wondering -how I got there. I have come to the conclusion that it was Fate--just -Fate! That's it--Fate!" - -"My dear boy, don't talk nonsense," said Lady Adela impatiently. - -"But I am quite serious, dear Mum," persisted Dicky. "I don't as a rule -go following unprotected young females onto the summits of omnibuses--" - -Lady Adela's fine eyes began to protrude, crabwise. - -"You _followed_ her?" she gasped. - -"I did. What else was there to do?" said Dicky simply. "I might never -have seen her again if I had n't. Fate does n't as a rule give a man -two chances. I got this one, and I took it. One moment I was walking -along Piccadilly, bucking about something to old Tiny Carmyle. Next -moment there she was, stepping on to that Piccadilly 'bus. In about -five seconds I found myself up on top, too, sitting on the seat behind -her. I tell you, it must--" - -"What became of Mr. Carmyle?" asked Lady Adela, ruthlessly interrupting -another rhapsody. - -Dicky smiled vaguely, and rubbed his head. - -"Upon my soul, I don't know," he confessed. "It's the first time the -matter has occurred to me. I expect he went home. He's a resourceful -old creature." - -"How did you dispose of the man with the umbrella, my boy?" enquired Mr. -Mainwaring. - -"Ah," said Dicky, abandoning Carmyle to his fate, "that was where I did -the bright thing. The fellow looked as if he made rather a hobby of -this sort of game, and that gave me an idea. When he started amusing -himself, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, right in his ear: 'Look -here, my man, do you remember what happened to you the last time you -were rude to a lady when you thought no one was with her?" - -Mr. Mainwaring rubbed his hands gently. - -"Well?" he said. - -"At that," continued The Freak with relish, "my sportsman went a sort of -ripe gorgonzola colour, grabbed his filthy brolly, and slid heavily down -the back stairs of the 'bus." - -"And what did you do then?" enquired Lady Adela. - -"I," replied Dicky triumphantly, "got up and took his seat and gave -Tilly my umbrella!" - -"Ha! ha! ha!" crowed Mr. Mainwaring delightedly. "H'm! h'm! h'm! Honk! -honk! honk!" he concluded hurriedly, coughing laboriously and patting -himself upon the chest, as his consort turned menacingly in his -direction. - -"And where did you part company?" asked Lady Adela. - -"Well," explained the culprit, "I offered to see her home. She was -rather shaken up by what had happened." - -Lady Adela nodded her head as if she had expected this. - -"I see. And what did the young woman-- - -"Don't you think, Mum dear, that you might start calling her 'lady' -now?" suggested Dicky gently. - -"--Say to that?" she enquired, without taking the slightest notice of -the interruption. - -"She said she was n't going home. She was out shopping, it seemed. In -fact, she got down at a shop in Oxford Street. I insisted on her -keeping the umbrella, though." - -"As a gift?" - -"No," said Dicky with a twinkle; "as a hostage." - -"And you gave her your address?" - -Dicky's radiant countenance clouded for a moment. - -"Not quite," he said. "I meant to, of course; but I can't have been -quite my own calm self; for instead of giving her my own address, I -asked for hers." - -"She gave it, I suppose?" said Lady Adela dryly. - -"No. She hesitated badly. I ought to have realised at once that I was -not quite playing the game; but I was so mad keen to see her again that -the idea never occurred to me. I simply thought she had forgotten where -she lived, or something, and waited." - -"But finally," said Lady Adela, "the young--lady did confide her address -to you?" - -Dicky nodded, and his mother continued:-- - -"Where does she live?" - -"Russell Square," said Dicky rapturously. - -"Russell Square? Ah! I know it. One drives through it on the way to -Euston. In Bloomsbury, I believe?" said Lady Adela. - -Her infatuated son corrected her. "Not Bloomsbury," he said reverently; -"Heaven." - -"Quite so," agreed Lady Adela, entirely unmoved. "What number?" - -"I have forgotten the number long ago," replied Dicky, "but I could find -my way to the place blindfold by this time." - -"Don't you ever write to her?" asked his mother curiously. - -"Every day." - -"Then you must know her postal address," was the crushing rejoinder. - -Dicky merely shook his head, and smiled serenely. - -"No, I don't," he said. - -"Then where do you address her letters?" - -"I walk round every night after bedtime, and drop the letter into her -letter-box. Is it likely I would let a postman touch it? Anyhow, on -this occasion Tilly told me that if I asked for my umbrella any time I -was passing it would be handed out to me. Then she thanked me again, -the darling, and went into the shop." - -"Front entrance?" enquired Lady Adela swiftly. - -"Was it?" said Dicky vaguely. "I don't remember. Yes, I do. She went -round and in at the side somewhere. Why?" - -"Nothing," said Lady Adela. "And did you call at Russell Square?" - -"Rather! I went there next afternoon." - -"Were you invited in?" - -"As a matter of fact, I met her coming out, with her father. A splendid -old chap! Apparently Tilly had told him the whole tale, and he had -expressed a desire to make my acquaintance. A lucky desire for me, what? -He took us both out to tea." - -"Where?" - -"Gunter's. Said he was sorry he could n't ask me into the house at -present, as they had the paperhangers in. After that visitation was -over, I was to come and make the acquaintance of the rest of the -family." - -"And did you?" - -"Yes." - -"What is the house like inside?" was the next inevitable feminine -enquiry. - -"To tell you the truth I have n't been inside yet, except the front -hall. But I met the rest of the family at a very friendly little -luncheon given in my honour at the Criterion on the following Saturday -afternoon." - -"And what are the rest of the family like?" - -Dicky pondered. - -"Now I come to think it over," he confessed at length, "I'm not very -clear about the rest of the family. Collectively they struck me as -being the most charming people I had ever met, but I don't seem to have -noticed them individually, if you know what I mean. You see, Tilly was -there." - -"How many are there?" pursued his mother, with exemplary patience. - -"Four or five, I should think, but I have never counted them," replied -the exasperating Richard. "Tilly--" - -Mr. Mainwaring came timidly to his wife's aid. - -"Is there a mother, my boy?" he asked. - -"Yes, there is a mother," replied Dicky hastily. "Oh, yes," he repeated -with more confidence, "certainly there is a mother." - -"Any sisters?" - -"There is a small girl--a dear. And I have a kind of notion there are -some twins somewhere. Tilly--" - -"Any brothers?" - -Dicky smiled, apparently at some amusing thought. - -"Yes," he said, "there is Percy. A sterling fellow, Perce! I wonder -where he is, by the way. If he were here he might be able to do -something with the goat. Any one would respect Percy--even a goat." - -Lady Adela sighed despairingly. Mr. Mainwaring, taking the goat by the -horns, so to speak, asked his son to elucidate the mystery once and for -all. - -"Did n't I tell you about the goat?" asked Dick in surprise. "Well, it -was like this. When Tilly and I were hunting for a cab in the rain at -the station just now, we met a woman with a goat, in tears." - -"The goat?" said Lady Adela incredulously. - -"No, its mother--I mean, its proprietress. She had missed the market, or -something, owing, to her pony breaking down, and she had come to the -station as a forlorn hope, to see if she could catch a departing -goat-merchant and unload Maximilian on him." - -"Maximilian?" interjected Lady Adela giddily. - -"Yes--the goat. We had to call him _something_, you know. Her husband -was very ill in bed, and Maximilian had to be sold to defray expenses, -it seemed." - -"And so you--er--purchased Maximilian?" said Mr. Mainwaring. - -"We did," replied The Freak gravely. "That was why we had to walk. The -cabman would not allow us to take Maximilian inside with us, and Max -absolutely declined to sit on the box beside the cabman--which did n't -altogether surprise me--so we all three had to come here on our arched -insteps. I wonder where Tilly is." - -"Where is the animal now?" enquired Lady Adela apprehensively. She was -quite prepared to hear that Maximilian was already in the best bedroom. - -"We left him on the lawn, tethered to the rain-gauge," replied Dicky. -"Ah, there she is!" - -Forgetting the goat and all other impediments to the course of true -love, he hurried to the foot of the staircase. - - - - III - - -Miss Welwyn and Mrs. Carmyle descended the stairs together, Sylvia -stalking majestically in the rear. Tilly wore a short navy-blue skirt -and a soft silk shirt belonging to Connie--garments which, owing to the -mysterious readiness with which the female form accommodates itself to -the wardrobe of its neighbour, fitted her to perfection. In this case, -however, the miracle was less noticeable than usual, for the two girls -were of much the same height and build, their chief points of difference -being their hair and eyes. - -In reply to her swain's tender enquiries, Miss Welwyn intimated that she -was now warm and dry. - -"In that case," replied Dicky, "come and sit up to the tea-table and -take some nourishment." - -On her way to her tea Tilly was met by Mr. Mainwaring senior, with -outstretched hands. - -"My dear young lady," he said, with shy cordiality, "we owe you a most -humble apology." - -Tilly, flushing prettily, asked why. - -"For our extremely vague greeting to you just now," explained her host. -"You see"--he clapped Dicky fondly on the shoulder--"this intellectual -son of ours forgot to post the letter announcing your--telling us about -you. We have only just heard the news. Now that we have you, my -dear"--the old gentleman's eyes beamed affectionately--"we are going to -make much of you!" - -"Oh, thank you! You _are_ kind!" cried Tilly impulsively; and smiled -gratefully upon her future father-in-law. His were the first official -words of welcome that she had received. - -"Good old Dad!" said Dicky. - -Meanwhile Lady Adela had come to the conclusion that her male belongings -were overdoing it. - -"Do you take sugar, Miss Welwyn?" she enquired loudly. - -"Yes, please," said Tilly, still engaged in smiling affectionately upon -the Mainwarings, _père et fils_. - -"I wonder now," continued Mr. Mainwaring, "if you are in any way related -to an old friend of mine--or perhaps I should say acquaintance, for he -moved on a higher plane than I--Lucius Welwyn? I was at school with him -more than forty years ago, and also at Cambridge." - -"Lucius Welwyn?" cried Tilly, her eyes glowing. "He is my Daddy--my -father!" - -"You don't say so? Capital!" Abel Mainwaring turned to his wife. -"Adela, do you hear that? Miss Welwyn and I have established a bond of -union already. Her father was actually at school with me." - -Lady Adela flatly declined to join in the general enthusiasm. - -"Are you sure, dear?" was all she said. "There might be two." - -Mr. Mainwaring pointed out, with truth, that Lucius Welwyn was an -uncommon name. "But we can easily make sure," he said. "The Lucius -Welwyn whom I remember was a Fellow of his College. Did your father--" - -"Yes, Dad was a Fellow of his College for some years," said Tilly. "I -think I will come a little farther from the fire now, if you don't mind. -I am quite warm." - -"Come and sit here by me, dear Miss Welwyn," said Lady Adela with sudden -affability. "I want to have a cosy little chat with you. Dick, you are -very wet and muddy. Go and change." - -"All right," said Dicky obediently. - -As he left the hall he said something in a low voice to Mrs. Carmyle. -That small champion of the oppressed nodded comprehendingly, and -established herself at a writing-table under the curtained window. - -"Abel," enquired Lady Adela, in pursuance of her policy of once more -clearing the decks for action, "what have you done with Mr. Rylands?" - -"I quite forgot him," confessed Mr. Mainwaring. "I was so much occupied -with Miss Welwyn. I fear he is still in the smoking-room." - -"Go and let him out--by the side door," commanded Lady Adela. - -"Come on, Dad!" said Dicky. - -Father and son disappeared, arm-in-arm; Lady Adela and Sylvia closed in -upon the flinching Miss Welwyn; and Mrs. Carmyle, taking up her pen, -addressed herself to the composition of an epistle to her lord and -master. - -Lady Adela looked round, and remarked in solicitous tones:-- - -"Constance, dear, you have chosen a very draughty corner for yourself." - -"I have put fresh note-paper in your bedroom, Connie," added Sylvia -cordially. - -"I'm as right as rain, thanks," said Connie. "Just scribbling a line to -Bill." - -And she began:-- - -_I have arrived quite safely, old man, and the most tremendously -exciting things are happening here. Listen!_ - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - ANOTHER COSY CHAT, WITH AN INTERRUPTION - - - I - - -_The victim_, continued Connie presently, _is now upon the sofa, wedged -in between the Chief Ogress and the Assistant Tormentor. She is scared -out of her wits, poor thing, but has stood up to the pair of them -splendidly so far_. - -"It was good of you to come down to this poky little corner of the -country, Miss Welwyn," Lady Adela was saying, handing Tilly a second cup -of tea. "It is so nice when one's friends take one as they find one, is -it not?" - -Tilly, wide-eyed and quaking, was understood to assent to this -proposition. - -"You live in town, I understand?" continued Lady Adela cautiously. - -Tilly took a deep breath, and began:-- - -"Yes--in Russell Square. The house," she continued rapidly, "is very -old-fashioned. It belonged to my grandfather. My father inherited from -him, and we have lived there ever since we left Cambridge. We have -often talked of leaving, but Dad says he can't bear transplanting at his -time of life. So," concluded Tilly, with an hysterical little -gasp--Lady Adela and Sylvia were listening with the dispassionate -immobility of a pair of well-nourished sphinxes--"we just stay on." - -_She has confessed that she lives in Bloomsbury_, wrote Mrs. Carmyle. -_The Inquisition are one up_. - -"Russell Square!" cooed Lady Adela. "How charming and old-fashioned! -So handy for the British Museum, too!" - -"And Euston Road!" added Sylvia enthusiastically. - -_Cats! Cats!! Cats!!!_ recorded Connie furiously. - -Lady Adela offered Tilly a bun, and resumed her long-distance fire. - -"You are quite a small family, I imagine?" - -"Well," began Tilly readily--they had reached a topic that lay very near -her heart--"there are Father and Mother, of course, and my brother -Percy, and my sister, and two quite tiny ones. My grandmother--" - -"How nice," murmured Lady Adela indulgently, closing her eyes as if to -mitigate the strain of this enumeration. "And what is your little -sister's name?" - -"Amelia." - -"Amelia? Delightful! Perfect! It suits Russell Square exactly." - -"One feels," corroborated Sylvia, "as if the Sedleys and the Osbornes -and the Rawdon Crawleys all lived next door." - -_Why don't they smack people like Sylvia more in their youth?_ enquired -Mrs. Carmyle's letter plaintively. - -"I don't think we have met any of _them_," said Miss Welwyn doubtfully. -"The Mossops live on one side of us and the Rosenbaums on the other. We -don't call on them, of course," she added apprehensively. "And oh, Lady -Adela, I have an invitation for you from my mother, to come and have tea -with us." - -"That is very kind of your mother," said Lady Adela graciously. "You -shall give me the invitation when you have unpacked your boxes." - -"It's--it's not a written invitation," said Tilly. "Mother just asked -me to ask you, any day you happen to be coming into town. Then you -would meet my father and the others." - -"That will be charming," replied Lady Adela. "I think we have no -engagement on Monday." (_Lady A. is simply bursting with curiosity -about the girl's family_, observed Connie at this point.) "I will write -a little note to your mother, and you shall take it back with you on -Monday morning. Are you the eldest of the family?" - -"No. Perce--Percy is the eldest. He is twenty-two." - -"Is he at the University?" - -Miss Welwyn shook her head. - -"Not now," she said. She spoke with more freedom. The restraint of her -surroundings was wearing off, and her courage, which was considerable, -was beginning to assert itself. "He is in the City. He dislikes it -very much, poor boy. He is so fond of open-air sports, and he finds an -office very trying. My father was a great sportsman, too. He used to -go racing a good deal at one time, but he has given it up now. He says -he is on the shelf." - -"And he was a Fellow of his College, I think you said?" remarked Lady -Adela, a little bored with this prattle. - -"Yes--Fellow and Tutor." - -"But he is no longer in residence, you say?" - -"No," said Tilly briefly. - -_There is something shady about the poor child's father_, wrote Mrs. -Carmyle, _but Lady A. has got no change out of her so far_. - -"I am looking forward greatly to making your father's acquaintance, Miss -Welwyn," said Lady Adela, with absolute sincerity. "Now, I wonder if I -know any of your mother's people. I don't think you have mentioned her -maiden name." - -"She was a Banks," replied Miss Welwyn readily. - -_Bill, dear, this little girl is splendid!_ recorded Connie -enthusiastically. - -"I beg your pardon?" said Lady Adela. - -"A Banks," repeated Tilly politely. - -Lady Adela nodded her head intelligently. - -"Ah, to be sure!" she said. "Let me see. Are they a Warwickshire -family, now?" - -"Or is it a Cornish name?" queried Sylvia, with an encouraging smile. - -"No," said Tilly. "Mother came from Bedfordshire--or else -Cambridgeshire," she added rather breathlessly, for the four eyes of the -sphinxes were upon her once more. - -"But, dear Miss Welwyn--" began Sylvia. - -_I can stand this no longer!_ scribbled Connie, and threw down her pen. - -"Thank goodness, that's over!" she exclaimed, rising and coming over to -the fire. "What a nuisance affectionate husbands are! Talking of -husbands, Sylvia, I hear you are going to marry a plumber." - -Lady Adela and Sylvia, taken in flank, both turned and eyed the -frivolous interloper severely. Had they not done so, they would have -noted that Miss Welwyn's teacup had almost leaped from its saucer. - -"Dear Connie, you are priceless," commented Sylvia patronisingly. "I -wonder where you got your quaint sense of humour." - -"Lady Adela was my informant," said Connie, quite unruffled. She had -drawn the enemy's fire upon herself, which was precisely what she had -intended to do. "Jolly sensible of you, too! A plumber is a useful -little thing to have about a house. My Bill is practically one, you -know, although he calls himself something grander. Now, what about a -four-handed game of billiards before dinner? Do you feel inclined to -play, Miss Welwyn?" - -"I am rather out of practice," said Tilly dubiously. - -"Never mind!" said Connie. "You can play with Dicky against Mr. -Mainwaring and me." - -She walked to the foot of the staircase, and called up: "Mr. Richard, -forward!" - -"In one moment, Miss!" replied a voice far up the height. "I'm just -attending to a lady at the ribbon counter. I'll step down directly." -Then a stentorian bawl: "Sign, please!" - -During this characteristic exchange of inanities an electric bell purred -faintly in the distance, with the usual result that the dining-room door -opened, to emit the jinnee-like presence of Mr. Milroy. - -"What is it, Milroy?" enquired Lady Adela. - -"Front door bell, my lady," replied Milroy, and disappeared like a -corpulent wraith through the curtains. - -"Heavens, not _another_ caller!" exclaimed the overwrought mistress of -the household. - -"Probably Mr. Rylands come back for his goloshes," said Sylvia. At the -same moment Dicky and his father appeared, descending the staircase -together. - -"_And_ the next article, madam?" continued Dick lustily, addressing Mrs. -Carmyle, who stood below. - -He was answered, not by the lady to whom his query was addressed, but by -Milroy, who appeared holding back one of the curtains which covered the -entrance to the vestibule, to announce, in the resigned tones of a man -for whom life holds no further surprises:-- - -"Mr. Percy Welwyn!" - - - - II - - -Mr. Percy Welwyn entered. He was a slender young man with an -insufficient chin and a small moustache. He looked like a shop -assistant; and Dicky's last remark, still ringing through the hall, -emphasised rather than suggested the comparison. His hair was brushed -low down upon his forehead, with an elaborate curl over his right -eyebrow. His eyes were bulgy. He wore a tight-fitting cycling suit, -splashed with mud, and carried in his hand a small tweed cap bearing a -metal badge. Altogether an impartial observer might have been excused -for not feeling greatly surprised that Dicky and Tilly had mislaid him. - -Mr. Welwyn advanced to the fire, with the easy grace of one who is -habitually a success in whatever grade of society he finds himself, and -remarked: "Good-evenin', all!" - -For a moment there was a frozen silence. Then Dicky hurried forward. - -"My dear Percy," he exclaimed, wringing the newcomer by the hand, "here -you are, after all! Dear old soul! Let me present the rest of my -family." - -He linked his arm in that of the travel-stained cyclist, and led him -towards the petrified Lady Adela. - -"Mother," he announced, "this is my friend Percy Welwyn." - -"Mr. Percy Welwyn," said a gentle voice in his ear. - -"Sorry, old man!" said Dicky hastily. - -"No offence taken," Mr. Welwyn assured him, "where none intended. This, -I presume,"--he waved his dripping tweed cap in the face of the -speechless matron before him,--"is your hostess." - -"Yes," said Dicky. "My mother, Lady Adela Mainwaring." - -Mr. Welwyn shook hands affably. - -"How de do, your ladyship?" he said. "Very pleased to make your -ladyship's acquaintance, I'm sure." - -"And this," continued Dicky, swiftly wheeling his guest out of the -danger zone, "is my old Dad." - -"How do you do, Mr. Welwyn?" said Mr. Mainwaring, with a courteous -little bow. "We make you welcome." - -"How de do, your lordship?" replied Mr. Welwyn, repeating his -hand-shaking performance. "Very pleased to make your lordship's -acquaintance." - -"That's an error on your part, Percy," said Dicky smoothly. "Dad's only -a commoner. But we'll work it out afterwards. This is my little sister -Sylvia." - -Mr. Welwyn greeted the statuesque Miss Mainwaring as he had greeted her -parents, throwing in an ingratiating ogle which plainly intimated that -he intended to make an impression in this quarter. - -"Very pleased to make _your_ acquaintance, Miss," he said. "We shall be -calling each other Perce and Sylvie in no time, I can see. And now," he -continued, turning his back upon the quivering figure of his future -playmate, "I should like to address a few observations to the happy -couple. You're a nice pair of turtle-doves to come and play gooseberry -to, I don't suppose! Here I give up a whole Saturday afternoon to come -and chaperon our Tilly and her young gentleman down to his ancestral -home; and the first thing I know is the pair of them give me the slip at -Waterloo! Chronic, I call it!" - -"What else did you expect, Mr. Welwyn?" interposed Connie, coming -characteristically to the rescue, the majority of the Mainwaring family -being in no condition to cope with Percy. "Have n't you ever been -engaged yourself?" - -Her unsolicited intrusion into the conversation was plainly a shock to -Percy's sense of decorum. He coughed reprovingly behind his hand, and -turning to Dicky, remarked:-- - -"Introdooce me!" - -Dicky, humble and apologetic, complied. Mr. Welwyn went through his -usual performance, and continued:-- - -"Engaged, Mrs. Carmyle? Not me! Not that I might n't have bin, mark -you, if I had n't been born careful. Be born careful, and you need n't -be born lucky. The Proverbs of Perce--Number one!" he added, in a -humorous aside. "Well, to resume. Luckily I had the old push-bike with -me, and I managed to find my way down here in a matter of an hour and a -half or so. And then what happens? Just as I am doing a final spin up -your kerridge-drive, your ladyship--_bing! bang!_ and I get bowled over -in the dark by a charging rhinoceros!" - -Mr. Welwyn concluded this dramatic narrative with a few appropriate -gestures, and paused to note its effect upon his auditors. - -"That was Maximilian, I fancy," explained Dicky cheerfully. "The little -fellow must have got loose. Did you notice which way he was going?" - -"I did," replied Percy with feeling. "He was going the opposite way to -me." - -"In that case," replied Dicky reflectively, "he must be halfway back to -mother by this time. Well, perhaps it is just as well. Did you happen -to observe whether he had the rain-gauge with him?" - -"All I remarked," replied Mr. Welwyn bitterly, "was about half a -mudguard. But that," he continued, with a winning smile to the ladies, -"is neither here nor there, is it? Seeing as you are safe, Tilly, old -girl, I think I may now resign the post of chaperon into her ladyship's -hands. And perhaps," he added with a graceful bow, "I may be permitted -to remark that in my humble opinion a more capable pair of hands could -not be found for the job." - -Lady Adela had suffered severely that day, and her spirit for the time -being was almost broken. She merely smiled weakly. - -Mr. Welwyn, now at the very top of his form, struck an attitude. - -"My trusty iron steed," he declaimed, "waits without the -battlements--all but a few spokes, that is, accounted for by the -aforesaid rhinoceros--and I must hence, to ketch the seven-fifteen back -to Londinium." - -"Does that mean he is going?" murmured Lady Adela to her daughter, with -a flutter of hope upon her drawn features. - -Sylvia was nodding reassuringly, when the tactless Dicky broke in:-- - -"Percy, old son, you really must stay for dinner, if not for the night." - -"We can't send you away empty in weather like this, Mr. Welwyn," added -Mr. Mainwaring hospitably. "My dear--" - -He turned to his wife, but the words froze upon his lips, for Lady Adela -presented an appearance that can only be described as terrible. But the -impervious Percy noticed nothing. - -"By my halidom," he exclaimed, highly gratified, "that was well spoken! -Yet it cannot be. I thank you, ladies and gentles all, for your courtly -hospitality; but, as the bard observes: 'I _must_ get home to-night!'" -(Here he broke into song, and indulged in what are known in theatrical -circles as "a few steps.") "The club has an important run billed for -to-morrow, and if little Percy is missing, there will be enquiries. -Still, rather than disoblige, I'll split the difference. I will drain a -stirrup-cup of foaming Bass with ye ere I depart. Then, forward across -the drawbridge! Yoicks! Likewise Tally Ho! Which way, fair sir," -concluded this high-spirited youth, turning to his host, "to the Saloon -Bar?" - -"Percy," remarked Dicky hurriedly, "you are immense! You ought to go on -the Halls. Come along! This way!" - -"I have bin approached, mind you," began the comedian, taking Dicky's -arm, "but!" - -"Are you coming too, Tilly?" asked Dicky, looking back. - -Tilly, who had been apprehensively regarding the flinty countenances of -her future relatives-in-law, assented hurriedly and gratefully. - -"Yes, please," she said. "I will come and see Percy off." - -She took Dicky's free arm. - -"'T is meet and fitting," observed the ebullient Percy. "We will drain -a tankard jointly. Right away! Pip, pip! Good-morrow, knights and -ladies all!" - -The trio disappeared into the dining-room, leaving a most uncanny -silence behind them! - -Mr. Mainwaring hastily picked up the evening paper and enshrouded -himself in its folds. Lady Adela feebly signalled to Sylvia for the -smelling-salts. - -"A perfectly _appalling_ young man!" she announced. - -"And a perfectly sweet little girl!" quoth loyal Connie. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - A DAY OF CALM REFLECTION - - - I - - -At half-past eight next morning Connie Carmyle, wearing a tweed coat and -skirt and neat brown brogues, came whistling downstairs, intent upon a -constitutional before breakfast. - -Upon the sofa in front of the hall-fire, self-consciously perusing a -Sunday newspaper, sat a large man of slightly sheepish appearance. At -the sight of Connie he rose guiltily to his feet. Mrs. Carmyle embraced -him in a motherly fashion. - -"And may I ask what you are doing here, my man?" she enquired. - -"Finished things off last night after all," replied her husband; "so -thought I might as well run down this morning and spend the day." - -"Why?" asked Mrs. Carmyle wonderingly. She knew perfectly well; but -being a woman and the possessor of an undemonstrative husband, it -pleased her to spur him into making an exhibition of himself. - -"Thought I should like a rest," said Mr. Carmyle gruffly. "Had a pretty -tough week," he added, in a pusillanimous attempt to excite compassion. - -"Is that the only reason?" persisted his heartless spouse. - -"Having a wife, thought I might as well come and see her for an hour or -two," conceded Carmyle grudgingly. - -"You must put it better than that, darling," said Connie inexorably. -"Now, be a little man! You came because--because--" - -The sorely-harrassed husband, driven into a corner, turned a deep -plum-colour. - -"Because I love you!" he growled. "Now chuck it, Connie, for goodness' -sake!" - -He was rewarded by a radiant smile. - -"That is much better," said Connie approvingly. "Now you shall have some -breakfast. After that I have a great deal for you to do." - -"What?" - -"You can take us for a drive in the car." - -"Us?" - -"Yes--us. Me, Dicky, and his fiancée," answered Connie very distinctly. - -"Righto!" replied this maddening man unconcernedly. - -Connie heaved a patient little sigh, and repeated:-- - -"Me, Dicky, and--his fiancée." - -This effort was more successful. - -"Righto!" said Carmyle once more. "Freak engaged again?" he added as an -afterthought. - -Connie cast up her eyes in a piteous fashion, as if to imply that it is -better to have a husband like this than none at all, and replied -resignedly:-- - -"Yes. It's a long story. I wrote you a letter about it last night. -Here it is in the post-basket. Read it now; while I run and break the -news of your visitation to Lady Adela." - -By the time that Connie returned, her taciturn but capable husband had -mastered the contents of her letter--parentheses, italics, notes of -exclamation, and all--and was ready to receive the orders of the day. - -"Now, listen," commanded Connie swiftly. "At breakfast you will invite -Dicky and Tilly to come for a run in the motor. I don't know anything -about that girl, but I had a long talk with her last night when we were -getting ready for bed, and she is the right sort. She seemed to like -me, too. What did you say?" - -"Nothing," replied the exasperating William. "Go on." - -"Anyhow," continued Connie, ignoring a mysterious chuckle, "I am not -going to have her pumped and bullied by Lady Adela and Sylvia before she -has found her feet. Therefore we will take her and Dicky away for the -day. Get your invitation off at breakfast, before Lady Adela begins -organising a party for church. The young couple can have the back seat -to themselves, and I will come in front with you." - -"Anything you like," replied Carmyle cheerfully. He had been looking -forward to an indolent morning with Connie in the smoking-room, for he -really had had a hard week; but he never questioned the dispositions of -the small goddess who controlled his movements. Whatever she ordained -was right. - -"Thank you, Bill darling! I love you very much." - -Mrs. Carmyle stood upon tiptoe, and with an affectionate sigh -endeavoured to lay her head upon her husband's left shoulder. Mr. -Carmyle gave her no assistance. He merely removed his sovereign-purse -with some ostentation from his left-hand waistcoat-pocket to his right. - - - - II - - -"This is the first time that you and I have been out in a motor -together, Tilly," remarked Dicky a few hours later, taking advantage of -a jolt on the part of the car to annihilate a portion of the space which -separated him from his beloved. - -Tilly, availing herself of a margin which instinct and experience had -taught her to provide for such contingencies as this, moved a -corresponding number of inches farther away, and pointed out that they -had enjoyed a motor-ride together only three days previously. - -"On a motor-'bus," she explained. - -"Motor-'bus? Not a bit. Fairy coach!" declared her highly imaginative -swain. - -"Fairy coaches don't as a rule carry eighteen inside and twenty-two -outside, dear," replied the matter-of-fact Miss Welwyn. - -"No, you are right," admitted Dicky. "Fairy coaches are invariably -two-seaters. This one is n't a bad substitute, though--what?" - -He lolled luxuriously, and turned to survey the profile beside him. -Tilly was wearing a saxe-blue _suède_ hat, secured to her head by a -filmy motor-veil--both the property of the open-handed Mrs. Carmyle, who -was sitting in front driving the car under the complacent contemplation -of her husband. The fur rug which Tilly shared with Dicky enveloped her -to the chin: her cheeks glowed; her lips were parted in a smile of utter -content; and her eyes were closed. Dicky tried to count the long lashes -that swept her cheek. She was his! His--to keep, to cherish, to -protect, to pamper, to spoil! Something very tremendous stirred within -him--something that had never found a place in that receptive and -elastic organ, his heart, before. All the dormant tenderness and -chivalry of his nature seemed to heap itself up into a mighty tidal -wave, topple over, and inundate his very soul. Foolish tears came into -his eyes. Very reverently he reached for Tilly's hand under the rug. -She surrendered it, smiling lazily, without raising her lashes. Dicky -wondered what she was thinking about. - -Tilly, on her part, was trying to summon up courage to tell him. - -By this time the car had cleared the village of Shotley Beauchamp, -filled with parties of worshippers hastening in what Connie described as -"rival directions," and was spinning along the open road bound for the -Surrey hills. It was a crisp and sunny morning. There was a touch of -spring in the air, quickening the pulse. - -"I wonder," began Dicky, whose conversation at this period, like that of -all healthy young men in a similar condition, wandered round in a -clearly defined and most constricted circle, "if I had not had that row -with the umbrella-merchant on the top of the Piccadilly 'bus, whether -you and I would ever--" - -_Bang!_ - -Mr. Carmyle said something distressingly audible. Mrs. Carmyle applied -the brakes; and the car, bumping uncomfortably, came to a standstill at -the side of the road, under the lee of a pine wood. - -"Was that your collar-stud at last, Tiny, old man?" enquired The Freak -anxiously. - -"Back tyre," replied Mr. Carmyle shortly, disencumbering himself of his -rug. - -They stepped out upon the muddy road and examined the off-hind wheel. -The tyre was flat, but apparently whole. - -"It is the valve," announced Carmyle, after unscrewing the dust-cap. -"Blown himself clean out of bed. That means a fresh inner tube. And I -lent the Stepney wheel to a broken-down car coming along this morning!" - -"Bad luck!" said Dicky speciously, glancing up at the pine wood. "Can -Tilly and I help?" - -"No, better run away and play." - -Dicky and Tilly, without further insincerities, obeyed at once. - -"I fear you will besmirch yourself, comrade," said Dicky over his -shoulder, as they departed. - -"Bet you half-a-crown I don't even dirty my gloves," replied Carmyle. - -"No: you'll take them off," replied the astute Richard. - -"No, kid!" persisted Carmyle. "I undertake to get a new inner tube put -into this tyre without laying a finger on it. Is it a bet?" - -"Is Connie going to do it?" asked Dicky incredulously. - -"She is and she is n't. She won't lay a finger on the tyre either, -though. Will you stake your half-crown like a man?" - -"I suppose there is a catch about it somewhere," said The Freak -resignedly. "Still, I fancy we must humour the young people, Tilly. All -right, my lad." - -Mr. Carmyle turned to his wife. - -"Show them, Connie," he said. - -His dutiful helpmeet selected a large tyre-lever, and sitting down in -the midst of the King's highway upon the tool-box, in a position which -combined the maximum of discomfort with the minimum of leverage, began -to pick helplessly at the rim of the wheel. Occasionally she looked up -and smiled pathetically. - -"Will that do, Bill dear?" she enquired. - -"Yes; but try and look a bit more of an idiot." - -Mrs. Carmyle complied. - -"Now you're overdoing it," said her stage-manager severely. "Don't loll -your tongue out like a poodle's! _That's_ better. Hallo, I believe I -can hear a car already! Come on, you two--into this wood!" - -Next moment Tilly, beginning dimly to comprehend, was propelled over a -split-rail fence by two muscular gentlemen and bustled into the -fastnesses of the pine wood. The Casabianca-like Connie remained in an -attitude of appealing helplessness upon the tool-box. - -The pine wood ran up the side of a hill. The trio climbed a short -distance, and then turned to survey the scene below them. Round the -bend of the road came a car--a bulky, heavy, opulent limousine, going -thirty-five miles an hour, and carrying a cargo of fur coats and -diamonds. - -"Rolls-Royce. Something-in-the-City going down to lunch at Brighton," -commented Dicky. "That's the wrong sort, anyhow." - -"Connie will be run over," cried Tilly apprehensively. - -"Not she," replied the callous Carmyle. - -He was right. Connie, diagnosing the character of the approaching -vehicle from afar, had already stepped round to the near side of her -own, escaping a shower bath of mud and possibly a compound fracture. - -"Do you always get your running repairs done this way, Tiny?" enquired -Dicky of Carmyle. - -"As a rule. Connie loves it. Gives her a chance of talking prettily to -people and smiling upon them, and all that. She thinks her smile is her -strong point." - -"I should be afraid," said Tilly. - -"Connie is afraid of nothing on earth," said Carmyle. "Why, she--" he -flushed red and broke off, realizing that he had been guilty of the -solecism of paying a public tribute to his own wife. "Here's another -car coming," he said. "This looks more like what we want." - -A long, lean, two-seated apparition, with a bonnet like the bow of a -battleship, had swung round the bend, and was already slowing down at -the spectacle of beauty in distress. It contained two goggled and -recumbent figures. Presently it slid to a standstill beside the -stranded car, and its occupants leaped eagerly forth. - -"Metallurgique, twenty-forty," announced Dicky, with technical -precision. - -"Undergraduates--or subalterns," added Carmyle contentedly, beginning to -fill his pipe. "That's all right. You two had better go for a little -walk, while I stay here and keep an eye on the breakdown gang." - -He produced from his greatcoat pocket a copy of "The Sunday Times," and -having spread it on the ground at the foot of a convenient tree, sat -down upon it with every appearance of cheerful anticipation, already -intent upon the, to him, never-palling spectacle of his wife adding -further scalps to her collection. - -Dicky and Tilly, nothing loath, wandered farther along the hillside, -under strict injunctions not to return for twenty minutes. It was the -first time that they had found themselves alone since their arrival on -the previous evening, and they had long arrears of sweet counsel to make -up. - -"Dicky," said Tilly, suddenly breaking one of those long silences that -all lovers know, "have you ever--loved any one before me?" - -Most men are asked this question at some time in their lives, and few -there be that have ever answered it without some mental reservation. But -The Freak merely looked surprised--almost hurt. - -"Loved any one _before_? I should think I had!" he replied. "Who has -n't?" - -"I have not," said Tilly, - -Dicky was quite prepared for this. - -"I meant men--not girls," he said. "Girls are different. Not that some -of them don't fall in and out of love rather easily, but they only do it -as a sort of pleasant emotional exercise. The average male lover, -however youthful, means business all the time. Quite right, too! It is -a healthy masculine instinct for an Englishman to want to found a -household of his own just as soon as he grows up. But it is this very -instinct which often sends him after the wrong girl. He is full of -natural affection and sentiment, and so on, and he wants some one to -pour it out upon. So he picks out the first nice girl he meets, endows -her in his mind with all the virtues, and tries to marry her. Usually -it comes to nothing--the girl sees to that; for she is gifted by nature -with a power of selection denied to men--and in any case it is hardly -likely that he will meet the right girl straight off. So he goes on -seeking for his mate, this child of nature, in a groping, instinctive -sort of way, until at last he finds his pearl of great price. Then he -sells all that he has, which being interpreted means that he straightway -forgets all about every other girl he ever knew, and loves his Pearl -forever and ever. Therefore, Tilly, if ever a man comes to you and -tells you that you are the only girl he ever loved, trust him not. It -is not likely. It is against nature." - -"A girl likes to believe it, all the same, dear," answered Tilly, -voicing an age-long truth. - -"I don't see why she should," argued the ingenious Dicky. "It is no -compliment to be loved by a man who has had no experience. Now _I_ can -love and appreciate you properly, because I am able to compare you with -about"--he counted upon his fingers, finally having recourse to a -supplementary estimate on his waistcoat-buttons--"with about fourteen -other ladies, of all ages, whom I have admired at one time and another; -and can unhesitatingly place you in Class One, Division One, all by your -own dear self, so far as they are concerned. Is n't that something?" - -But Tilly was not quite satisfied. - -"I should like to feel," she said, instinctively giving utterance to -that point of view which makes a woman's love such an intensely personal -and jealously exacting thing in comparison with a man's, "that you could -never have been happy with any woman in the world but me. Could you, -Dicky?" - -Dicky pondered. - -"It depends," he said, "on what you mean by happy. Our measure of -happiness, it seems to me, depends entirely on what we _have_ compared -with what we want. If I had never met you, I could never have missed -you; and so I dare say I might have settled down happily enough--or what -I considered happily enough--with some other girl. But that is -impossible now. I have met you, you see. If I were to lose you"--Tilly -caught her breath sharply--"no one else could ever take your place. -Love like ours makes all substitutes tasteless and colourless, as they -say in chemical laboratories. You have raised my standard of love so -high that no one but yourself can ever attain to it. So," concluded the -philosopher, with a smile which brought more happiness and reassurance -into Tilly's heart than all the laborious logic-chopping in the world -could have done, "though I don't know that I never _could_ have been -happy with any one but you, I can truly say this, that I never _can_ be -happy with any one but you. It's merely a matter of the difference -between two conditional sentences, that's all." - -But a girl talking with her lover is not interested in points of syntax. - -"And will you go on loving me?" asked Tilly, putting a small but -unerring finger upon the joint in Dicky's harness. - -Dicky glanced down upon the eager, wistful face beside him, and smiled -whimsically. - -"Madam," he said, "your fears are groundless." - -"How do you know?" enquired Madam, convinced in her heart, but anxious -to be reassured. - -"Because," said Dicky simply, "you love me. You have said it. Don't you -see how that binds me to you? The mere fact of your love for me makes -mine for you imperishable. The moment a man discovers that the woman he -loves loves him in return, he is hers, body and soul. Previous to that -something has held him back. Pride--reserve--caution--call it what you -like--it _has_ held him back. He has not let himself go _utterly_. -After all, we can only give of our best once in this life, and usually -some instinct inside us makes us refuse to surrender that best, however -prodigal we may have been of the inferior article, until we know that we -are going to get the best in return." Dicky was talking very earnestly -now. "I have been keeping my best for you all these years, little maid, -though neither of us knew it. Such as it is, you have it. That is why I -_know_ I can never go back on you. Besides, what man worthy of the name -could let a girl down, once she had abandoned her reserve--her beautiful -woman's reserve--and confessed her great secret to him? Why, I once -nearly married a girl whom I could not stand at any price, just because -the little idiot gave herself away one day when we were alone together." - -"Why should you have married her," asked single-minded, feminine Tilly -wonderingly, "if you did n't love her?" - -"It seemed so mean not to," said Dicky. - -Tilly nodded her head gravely. - -"Yes," she said, "I think I understand." (As a matter of fact, she did -not. To her, as to most women, such a quixotic piece of folly as that -to which Dicky had just confessed was incomprehensible. But she desired -to please her lover.) "It was like you to do it, but I hate the girl. -I expect she was a designing minx. But go on, dear. Go on convincing -me. I love it. Say it over and over again." - -"Say what?" enquired Dicky, who was not aware that he had been saying -anything unusual. - -"Pearls, and things like that," replied Tilly shyly. - -"Oh!" said Dicky dubiously, "that takes a bit of doing. Wait a minute!" - -Tilly obediently refrained from speech while her beloved dredged his -imagination for further metaphors. They were a curiously old-fashioned -couple, these two. That uncanny blend of off-hand _camaraderie_ and -jealously guarded independence which constitutes a modern engagement -meant nothing to them. They loved one another heart and soul, and were -not in the least ashamed of saying so. - -Presently Dicky took up his parable. - -"Hearken, O my Daughter," he began characteristically, "to the words of -the Prophet. Behold, I tell you an allegory! Do you know what riveting -is?" - -"No, dear. Women don't understand machinery," replied Tilly resignedly, -in the tones of a young mother threatened with an exposition of the -mechanism of her firstborn's clockwork engine. - -"Well, a rivet," pursued the Prophet, "is a metal thing like a small -mushroom. It is used for binding steel plates together, and requires -two people to handle it properly. First of all the rivet is heated -red-hot, and then a grimy man (called the holder-on) pops the stalk of -the mushroom into a hole bored through two over-lapping plates and keeps -the little fellow in position with a sort of gripping-machine, while -another grimy man (called the riveter) whangs his end of the stalk with -a sledge-hammer. That punches the poor little rivet into the shape of a -double mushroom, and the two plates are gripped together for good and -all." - -Tilly nodded her head. The allegory was beginning to emerge from a -cloud of incorrect technical detail. - -"Now it seems to me," continued Dicky, "that love is very like that. -Men are the holders-on and women the riveters. I have occupied the -position of holder-on several times in my life. I fancy most men do: it -is their nature to experiment. (I have also had the post of riveter -thrust upon me, but we need not talk about that. One tries to forget -these things as soon as possible," he added, with a little wriggle.) -"But the point which I want to bring out is this--a rivet can only be -used _once_. It may be slipped through various plates by its holder-on -in a happy-go-lucky sort of way over and over again; but once it meets -the hammer fairly, good-bye to its career as a gallivanting, peripatetic -little rivet! It is spread-eagled in a moment, Tilly--fixed, secured, -and settled for life. And if it is the right stuff, sound metal all -through, it will never wriggle or struggle or endeavour to back upon its -appointed task of holding together its two steel plates. It won't -_want_ to. It will endure so long as the two plates endure. Nothing -can shake him, that little rivet--nothing! Poverty, sickness, -misunderstanding, outside interference--nothing will have any effect. -That is the allegory. The wanderings of Dicky Mainwaring are over. He -has flitted about long enough, poking his inquisitive little head into -places that were not intended for him; and he has come to the right -place at last. One neat straight crack on his impressionable little -cranium, and the deed is done! The Freak's place in life is fixed at -last. Mutual love has double-ended him, and he is going to hold on now -for keeps." - -Dicky was silent for a moment, and then continued:-- - -"No one but you could have dealt that stroke, Tilly, or I should have -been fixed up long ago. I could never have remained engaged to Hilda -Beverley, for instance. She was a fine girl, but she did not happen to -be my riveter or I her holder-on--that's all. I should have dropped out -of my place at the first rattle. Lucky little rivet! Some poor beggars -don't get off so cheap. They pop their impulsive little heads into the -first opening, and never come out again. But Providence has been good -to me, Freak though I am. I have come safe through, to the spot where -the Only Possible Riveter in the World was waiting for me. Here we are -together at last, settled for life. Launch the ship! _Ting-a-ling_! -Full speed ahead! I have spoken! What are you trembling for, little -thing?" - -"I was only thinking," replied Miss Welwyn shakily, "how awful it would -have been if one of the other girls had been a better riveter." Then -she took a deep breath as of resolution. - -"Dicky," she began, "I want to talk to you about something. I think I -ought to tell you--" - -But as she spoke, the figure of Mr. Carmyle, heralded by unnecessary but -well-intentioned symptoms of what sounded like a deep-seated affection -of the lungs, appeared among the trees, and announced:-- - -"Off directly, you two! Connie is just having a last farewell with her -mechanics. She has collected quite a bunch of them by this time." - -"They have n't taken long over the job," said Dicky, in a slightly -injured tone. - -Carmyle, who too had once dwelt in Arcady, smiled. - -"An hour and ten minutes," he said concisely. - -Dicky and Tilly said no more, but meekly uprose from the fallen tree -upon which they had been sitting and accompanied their host to the road. - -All signs of disaster had disappeared. The punctured back tyre stood up -once more, fully inflated; the tool-box had been repacked and put away; -and Connie, smiling indulgently, sat waiting at the wheel. Far away in -the distance could be descried two other cars, rapidly receding from -view. They contained in all five knights of the road--grotesquely -attired and extremely muddy, but very perfect gentle knights after their -kind--who were now endeavouring, in defiance of the laws of the land, to -overtake the time lost by their recent excursion into the realms of -romantic adventure; all wishing in their hearts, I dare swear, that -life's highway contained a few more such halts as this. - -"Connie is going to write a book one day," observed Mr. Carmyle, as they -climbed into the car, "called 'Hims Who Have Helped Me.' All right -behind there?" - -The car set off once more. - - - - III - - -The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and as it was spent _à quatre_ -need not be described at length. - -They sped home in the gathering darkness of a frosty evening. Connie, -who had relinquished the wheel to her husband, with instructions to get -the car home as speedily as possible--she had not forgotten her promise -to go and hear Mr. Rylands's evening sermon--now shared the back seat -with Tilly; and the two ladies snuggled contentedly together under the -warm rug, silently contemplating the outlines of their squires against -the wintry sky. - -The car swung in at the lodge gates and began to run along the crackling -gravel of the drive. Presently, as they rounded a bend, the lights of -the house sprang into view. - -"Tea--and a big fire!" murmured Connie contentedly. - -To Tilly the sight of the house suggested other thoughts. Suddenly she -removed her gaze from Dicky's broad back and slipped a cold hand into -Connie's. - -"Will they try to take him from me?" she whispered passionately. - -One of Connie Carmyle's many gifts was her ability to catch an allusion -without tiresome explanations. Straightway she turned and looked deep -into the appealing grey eyes beside her. Her own brown ones glowed -indomitably. - -"If they do, dear," she answered--"fight for him." - -"I will," said Tilly, setting her teeth. - -The two girls gripped hands in the darkness. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - AN IMPOSSIBLE FAMILY - - -Amelia Welwyn, grievously overweighted by a tray containing her father's -breakfast, tacked unsteadily across the floor of the drawing-room at -Russell Square; and, having reached the door of her parent's bedroom, -proceeded to arouse the attention of its occupant by permitting the -teapot to toboggan heavily into one of the panels. - -"Don't come in!" said a muffled voice. - -"Half-past eleven, Daddy," announced Amelia cheerily. "Your breakfast!" - -"In the fender, my child," replied the voice. - -Amelia obediently put over her helm, and despite a heavy list to -starboard induced by a sudden shifting of ballast (in the form of the -hot-water jug) ultimately weathered the sofa and deposited the breakfast -tray in the fender, without throwing overboard anything of greater -moment than a piece of buttered toast. - -By the fireside, in a very large armchair, sat a small, alert, wizened, -and querulous old lady of eighty-one. - -"Cup of tea, Grannie?" said Amelia. - -"What's that?" enquired Mrs. Josiah Banks--late of Bedfordshire (or -Cambridgeshire). - -"Will you have a cup of tea?" repeated the child in a louder voice. - -"No," replied her aged relative; "I won't." - -"Very well, then," said Amelia good-temperedly. "Now you two, not so -much of it, if you please!" - -This warning was addressed to her younger brother and sister, who, -together with herself, had joined the Welwyn family at a date subsequent -to that upon which we first made its acquaintance. Amelia was twelve -years of age, The Caution five, and The Cure some twenty minutes -younger. At present the latter young lady, in the course of a -life-and-death struggle for the possession of the jettisoned piece of -buttered toast, had become involved in an embrace with her brother, so -involved that it seemed as if no one unfamiliar with the use of -letter-locks could ever unravel them. However, the experienced Amelia -succeeded; and having shaken the skirts of The Cure a little lower and -pulled the knicker-bockers of The Caution a little higher, dumped both -combatants upon the sofa and divided the now hopelessly mangled booty -between them. - -"And don't let me catch you at it again," she added magisterially. -"Only Monday morning, and your pinnies no more use than nothing! Come -in!" - -At the sight of the figure which appeared in the doorway in response to -this invitation The Caution and The Cure set up a combined howl of -apprehension, only to be quelled by a dole of lump-sugar--hush-money in -the most literal sense of the word--supplied by the resourceful Amelia. - -"Come in, Mr. Mehta Ram! What can we do for you this morning?" she -enquired maternally. "Never mind those two"--indicating the quaking -infants on the sofa. "It's their consciences, that's all. You see, I -always threaten to give them to you when they are naughty, and now they -think that you have really come for them. It's all right," she added, -turning reassuringly to the culprits. "Mr. Ram won't eat you this -time." - -Benevolent Mr. Mehta Ram beamed upon the chubby buccaneers through his -gold spectacles. - -"Believe me, Miss Amelia," he replied, "I could cherish no cannibalistic -designs upon such jolly kids. Is your excellent mother within her -domicile, or has she gone for a tata?" (Mr. Ram prided himself upon his -knowledge of colloquial English.) - -"She is out--shopping. Tell me your trouble," said businesslike Amelia. - -"I came here," began the Bengalee, "to address your mother in her -offeecial capacity." - -"I know," said Amelia swiftly. "It was that kipper you had for -breakfast. I thought it was wearing a worried look while mother was -cooking it. Well, you shan't be charged for it." - -Mr. Mehta Ram waved a fat and deprecating hand. - -"Far be it from me," he replied, "to reflect upon the culinary ability -of your excellent mother Welwyn. I came about a very different pair of -shoes." - -Mr. Ram then proceeded, in the curious blend of Johnsonian English and -street-boy slang which constitutes the vocabulary of that -all-too-precocious linguist, the Babu, with all the forensic earnestness -and technical verbiage of the student who has spent the past six months -grappling with the intricacies of English Law, to bring a weighty -indictment against the gentleman on the second-floor back. - -"In brief," he concluded, "Mr. Pumpherston has impounded my -sugar-basin." - -"Broken it, you mean?" - -"No, Miss Amelia. He has confiscated it--pinched it, in fact. -And"--Mr. Ram swept onward to his peroration, his brown face glistening -with mild indignation--"although I have assured him upon my word of -honour that there will be father and mother of a row if same is not -returned forthwith, he merely projects the sneer of scorn upon my humble -petition." - -"Oh, does he?" exclaimed Miss Amelia, with heat. "Mr. Pumpherston has -been enquiring for trouble for a long while now, and this time he is -going to get it. Mother"--as Mrs. Welwyn, humming a cheerful air, -entered the room and began to deposit parcels upon the table, much as a -mountain deposits an avalanche--"here is Mr. Ram says Mr. Pumpherston -has sneaked his sugar-basin and won't give it back." - -"What's that, Ducky?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, breaking off her little -tune. She was a large, still handsome, and most unsuitably attired -matron of about forty-five. Her task (and be it added, her joy) in life -was the support of a rather useless husband, of whom she was -inordinately proud because he happened to have been born a gentleman; -and all the energy and resource of her honest simple nature had been -devoted to the single aim of raising her children to what she considered -his level rather than permit them to remain upon her own. In the case -of the girls she had been singularly successful. Percy was her failure, -but fortunately she regarded him as her greatest triumph. (Providence -is very merciful to mothers in this respect.) And her love had not been -utterly vain, for although her taste in dress was disastrous and her -control of the letter "h" uncertain, her family were devoted to her. - -"You ask Mr. Mehta Ram all about it!" replied Amelia darkly. - -"The aforesaid Pumpherston," resumed Mr. Ram at once, "has threatened me -with personal violence--to wit, a damn good skelp in the eyeball. I -quote his _ipsissima verba_." - -"Oh, _has_ he?" replied Mrs. Welwyn, with decision. "Well that puts the -lid on Pumpherston, anyway. He's behind with his rent as it is; so the -moment our Perce gets home to-night, up goes Perce to the second-floor -back, and out goes my lord Pumpherston! I never could abide Scotchies, -anyhow." - -"Martha," enquired a piping but painfully distinct voice from the -fireside, "what does that black 'eathen want in 'ere?" - -"All right, Mother," replied Mrs. Welwyn. She turned soothingly to the -Babu. "We'll put things straight for you, Mr. Ram," she said -reassuringly. "You'll get justice in this country, never fear! -Good-morning!" - -Mr. Mehta Ram, inarticulate with gratitude, salaamed himself out of the -room, to the manifest relief of The Caution and The Cure. Mrs. Welwyn -followed him onto the landing. - -"You'll get your sugar-basin back, double-quick!" she announced in a -loud voice. "That'll frighten Pumpherston," she observed grimly, -re-entering the room and shutting the double doors behind her. - -"It's a pity losing a lodger, Mother," said Amelia. - -"Yes, dearie, it is," agreed Mrs. Welwyn with a sigh. "But it can't be -helped. I'll tell you what, though. Run after that blackamoor and ask -him if he has n't got a friend wants a room--a nice peaceable creature -like himself. The Museum Reading-Room is full of them, Father says. -Tell him to pick us a good one. Take the children up with you. Father -will be in here for his breakfast in a minute." - -As the door closed upon Amelia and her charges, Mrs. Welwyn crossed the -room to her surviving parent's side. - -"Well, Mother," she enquired cheerily, arranging the old lady's shawl, -"how goes it to-day? World a bit wrong?" - -The genial Mrs. Banks did not answer immediately. Obviously she was -meditating a suitable repartee. Presently it came. - -"When is that good-for-nothing 'usband of yours going to get up?" she -enquired. - -Mrs. Welwyn flushed red, but patted her cantankerous parent -good-humouredly on the shoulder. - -"That's all right, Mother," she said. "You mind your business and I'll -mind mine. Lucius sits up very late at night, working,--long after you -and I have gone to bed,--so he's entitled to a good long lay in the -morning." - -"Pack o' nonsense!" observed Mr. Welwyn's mother-in-law. "I'd learn -'im!" - -"Good-morning, good people!" - -Lucius Welwyn strode into the room with all the buoyancy and -cheerfulness of a successful man of forty. As a matter of fact he was a -failure of fifty-nine, but he still posed to himself with fair success -as a retired man of letters. His rôle was that of the philosophic -onlooker, who prefers scholarly ease and detachment to the sordid -strivings of a commercial age. In reality he was an idle, shiftless, -slightly dissipated, but thoroughly charming humbug. He was genuinely -attached to his wife, and in his more candid moments readily and -bitterly acknowledged the magnitude and completeness of his debt to her. -He possessed a quick smile and considerable charm of manner; and when he -was attired, not as now in a dressing-gown and slippers, but in the -garments of ceremony, he still looked what he undoubtedly was--a scholar -and gentleman. - -"Good-morning, Father. Your breakfast is all ready. Sit down, do, and -take it while it's hot," Mrs. Welwyn besought him. - -"Breakfast?" exclaimed Mr. Welwyn with infectious heartiness. -"Capital!" He seated himself before the tray. "A good wife and a good -breakfast--some men are born lucky!" - -"Some men," remarked an acid voice, "are born a deal luckier than what -they deserve to be." - -Mr. Welwyn, who was sitting with his back to the oracle, did not turn -round. - -"That you, Grandma?" he said lightly, pouring out his tea. "You are in -your usual beatific frame of mind, I am glad to note." - -"None of your long words with me, Lucius Welwyn!" countered his aged -relative with spirit. "I never 'ad no schooling, but I knows a waster -when I sees 'un." - -"Kidneys? Delicious!" remarked Mr. Welwyn, lifting the dish-cover. -"Martha, you spoil me." - -This pronouncement received such hearty endorsement from the fireside -that Mrs. Welwyn crossed the room and laid a firm hand upon her -sprightly parent's palsied shoulder. - -"Now then, Mother," she said briskly, "you trot across the landing to -your own room. I'm going to turn this one out presently. I've lit a -fire for you." - -Mrs. Banks, who knew full well that behind a smiling face her daughter -masked a hopelessly partisan spirit, rose to her infirm feet and -departed, grumbling. At the door she paused to glare malignantly upon -the back of her well-connected son-in-law. But that unworthy favourite -of fortune was helping himself to kidneys. - -"Seems to me," remarked Mrs. Welwyn apologetically, as the door closed -with a vicious snap, "that Mother got up on the wrong side of her bed -this morning. You don't mind, do you, Father dear?" - -"I? Not in the least," replied Mr. Welwyn with much cheerfulness. "I -find your worthy mother, if anything, a tonic. You are a good soul, -Martha. Sit down and have a cup of tea with me: it must be some time -since you breakfasted. Take mine." - -He pushed his brimming cup towards his wife. - -"Oh, no, Father!" said Mrs. Welwyn, quite distressed. "I'll get one for -myself." - -She rose, and went to the sideboard. - -"On consideration," interposed her husband, as if struck by a sudden -idea, "I think--yes, I think--I should prefer a tumbler. I was working -late last night; and possibly--I rather feel--You know what the doctor -said. A man of letters--thank you, dearest. You anticipate every -wish!" - -The man of letters helped himself from the decanter and siphon which his -prescient spouse had already laid beside the tray, and attacked the -kidneys with renewed confidence. - -"Father," observed Mrs. Welwyn presently, nervously sipping her -second-hand cup of tea, "there's trouble among the lodgers again." - -Mr. Welwyn gave her a reproving little glance. - -"I think, dearest," he said gently, "that we agreed to call them paying -guests." - -"That," retorted Mrs. Welwyn with sudden indignation, "is just what -they're not. Pumpherston has paid nothing for three weeks, and now he is -threatening to murder poor old Mehta Ram." - -"In my house?" exclaimed Mr. Welwyn grandly. "Impossible! This must -stop. Where is Percy?" - -"Percy," replied matter-of-fact Mrs. Welwyn, "is where you would expect -him to be at this hour, you dear old silly--earning his living at -Cratchett and Raikes's!" - -"Talking of Cratchett and Raikes," said Mr. Welwyn, characteristically -forgetting all about Mr. Pumpherston, "is there a letter this morning -from Gandy and Cox?" - -"No," said Mrs. Welwyn quickly. "Why?" - -"Nothing, nothing," said Mr. Welwyn, rising to look for his -cigarette-case. "They have been rather pressing over their little -account lately. In fact, they have had the presumption to threaten me -with distraint." - -"How much was the bill, dear?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, removing the -breakfast-tray to the sideboard. - -"A mere trifle," was the airy reply. "Seven pounds odd, I fancy, for a -case of champagne which I had a year or two ago, when my heart was a -little--you recollect? The doctor--" - -"Yes, lovey," said Mrs. Welwyn. "It was an anxious time for all of us. -But"--her brow puckered--"did n't you pay cash for it? I seem to -remember giving you the money." - -"Now you mention it," said Mr. Welwyn, lighting a cigarette, "I believe -you did--ah--hand me the money. But I fear I was weak--quixotic, if you -will. I gave it away." He raised a deprecating hand. "No! Please! I -beg! Do not ask me more, dearest. It was one of those private -disbursements for which a man with a weakness for his fellow-creatures -often finds himself made liable. A little nameless charity. It will -appear upon no subscription-list; no public acknowledgment will be made. -But--I have my reward. Do not embarrass me, Martha, by alluding to the -matter again." - -Mr. Welwyn, quite affected by the memory of his own generosity, took his -wife tenderly in his arms and kissed her upon the forehead. He then -blew his nose violently, evidently ashamed of his own weakness, and sat -down by the fire with the newspaper. - -Mrs. Welwyn knew only too well what the little nameless charity had -been; but, after all, seven pounds odd was a small price to pay for the -affection of such a husband as hers. She accepted the embrace -gratefully, sighed, and said:-- - -"Very well, dearie. It's a good thing," she added inconsequently, "that -the house is our own and we don't have to bother about rent. Rates are -bad enough. The butcher has been a bit crusty of late; and what with -Pumpherston not paying for his room and Tilly giving up her -blouse-designing, I don't believe there's change for a sovereign in the -house." - -Mr. Welwyn arose from his armchair, finished the refreshment contained -in the tumbler (which he had placed conveniently upon the mantel-piece), -and smiled indulgently upon his care-worn helpmeet. - -"You women, you women!" he said, shaking his handsome head in playful -reproach. "No breadth of view! No sense of proportion! Martha, -dearest, how often have I begged you never to judge a situation by its -momentary aspect? Cultivate a sense of perspective. Step back--" - -Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Welwyn trod heavily upon the -fire-irons in the fender. These resentfully retaliated, the knob of the -shovel springing up and striking him a sharp rap upon the knuckles, -while the tongs nipped him viciously in the ankle. - -After the clatter had subsided and Mr. Welwyn had said what many a less -distinguished man would have said under similar circumstances, his -habitual placidity of temper returned, and he resumed his lecture where -it had been interrupted. - -"I was about to urge you, Martha," he continued, "to cast your mind -_forward_--forward to the time when you will possess a wealthy -son-in-law." - -Mrs. Welwyn, who was endeavouring to remove from the sofa certain traces -of its recent occupancy by the glutinous Caution and the adhesive Cure, -turned suddenly and faced her husband. - -"Lucius," she said gravely, "I have a feeling that there is going to be -trouble over this business." - -"Over what business?" enquired Mr. Welwyn. - -"Over this son-in-law business," said Mrs. Welwyn doggedly. "Mr. -Mainwaring--" - -"Richard, dear--Richard!" - -"All right--Richard! I don't think Richard will take very kindly to us -when he sees us at home, and he'll have to see us here sometime, you -know. Things look different in Russell Square from what they do at the -Trocadero. And if he sheers off after all--well, it'll break our Tilly's -heart." - -At this moment the door burst open, to admit the sisters Welwyn, locked -in an affectionate embrace and dancing a two-step to a whistled -accompaniment. Tilly had returned. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - THE WORD "SWANK" - - -"That's how it goes, 'Melia," panted Tilly, whirling her partner into an -armchair. "It's quite easy, really; Dicky taught me in the -billiard-room on Saturday night in ten minutes. Hallo, hallo, hallo! -Here I am, everybody! Hallo, Mother darling!" - -Mrs. Welwyn gently parried the approaching embrace. - -"Here's your father, dear," she remarked, with the least tinge of -reproof in her voice. - -"Hallo, Dad! I did n't see you," exclaimed Tilly, kissing her male -parent excitedly. - -"Welcome home, my daughter!" said Mr. Welwyn. "Now kiss your mother." - -Tilly had already begun to do so, and an eager conversation followed. - -"Of course, we've heard a bit from Perce," began Mrs. Welwyn at once, -drawing the pins out of her daughter's hat, "and my word! you seem to -have got into the very thick of it this time, and no mistake!" - -"I should just think so," gabbled Tilly. "Such a place, Mother! -Billiard-rooms, and garages, and butlers, and a fire in your bedroom and -a hot bottle in your bed, and a maid to put you into your clothes, and I -don't know what all! And I was introduced to a lot of future relations. -There was Lady Adela. She tried to patronise me, but was n't much good. -Then Sylvia, the daughter. I hate her--she is a cat. And Connie -Carmyle. She is no relation, but I love her. And Father Mainwaring, he -is a dear. He says he was at Cambridge with you, Dad." - -Mr. Welwyn put down the newspaper. - -"What is that?" he enquired in a sharp voice. "Cambridge?" - -"Yes. He does n't remember you at all distinctly," said Tilly, "but -says he has an impression that you were the most brilliant man of your -year." - -"If that," remarked Mr. Welwyn, in a distinctly relieved tone, "is all -that he recollects about me, I shall be pleased to meet him again." - -"How is Dicky, Tilly?" enquired Amelia. - -Tilly's merry face softened. - -"Dicky," she said, half to herself, "is just Dicky. He brought me as -far as the door, but I would n't let him come in." - -"And are they all coming to tea?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn anxiously. - -"Yes--the whole boiling of them, at five this afternoon--a state call!" -replied Tilly. "By the way, Mother, that was a bloomer we made about -the invitation. I knew at the time we talked about it that you ought to -have written a note and chanced the spelling. Her ladyship made that -_quite_ plain to me." - -"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Welwyn in distress. "What did she say?" - -"She did n't say anything in particular," admitted Tilly, crinkling her -brow. "Nothing one could take hold of, you know. Just--just--" - -"Sort of snacks," suggested her mother sympathetically. - -Tilly nodded her head. - -"That's it," she said. "Anyhow, she has sent you a written reply. Here -it is." - -Mrs. Welwyn and Amelia breathed hard and respectfully at the sight of -the large thin grey envelope, addressed by Lady Adela's own compelling -hand. - -"You read it, dearie," said Mrs. Welwyn. - -"No; I'll tell you what," exclaimed Tilly. "We'll let little 'Melia read -it. She does n't get much fun." - -"Oh, Tilly!" cried Amelia gratefully. - -She took the letter, opened it with an air, and began:-- - -"_My deah Mrs. Welwyn--haw!_" - -There was great merriment at this, for in her own family circle Miss -Amelia enjoyed a great reputation as a wit and mimic. The fact that -neither she nor any of her audience, save Tilly, had ever beheld Lady -Adela in the flesh detracted not a whit from their enjoyment of her -performance. - -"_It is really too good of you,_" continued Amelia, in the high-pitched -and even tones of a lady of exceptional breeding, "_to invite us -all--such a crowd of us--to come to tea on Monday. As it happens, we -shall be in town that day, so Mr. Mainwaring and I propose to take you -at your word, and shall be charmed to come with our son and daughter at -five o'clock._" - -"That'll be four cups," murmured Mrs. Welwyn abstractedly. "We can get -Mehta Ram's. Go on, Ducky." - -"_After our recent experience of your daughter's society--_" - -Here Amelia broke off, to observe that in her opinion the last phrase -sounded tabbyish. - -"Never mind! Go on!" urged Mrs. Welwyn. - -"_--Daughter's society, we are naturally anxious to make the -acquaintance of her forbears._" - -"Her four what?" asked Mrs. Welwyn in a dazed voice. - -Amelia carefully examined the passage, and repeated:-- - -"It says 'four bears'--written as one word. Does that mean you and Dad -and me and Perce?" - -"If her ladyship," began Mrs. Welwyn warmly, "is going to start naming -names from the Zoo--" - -Tilly laid a quick hand upon her mother's arm and turned in the -direction of the fireplace. - -"Dad," she enquired, "what does 'forbears' mean?" - -A chuckling voice from behind "The Daily Mail" enlightened her. - -"The laugh is on your mother, children," said Mrs. Welwyn -good-temperedly. "Finish it, 'Melia." - -Amelia did so. "_What weather! Sincerely yours, Adela Mainwaring_. -That's all." - -"Quite enough, too!" commented Mrs. Welwyn, who still had her doubts -about the four bears. - -"Any way," remarked Tilly energetically, "they are coming; and we have -till five o'clock to get ready for them. Hallo, Perce!" - -To the company assembled entered Mr. Percy Welwyn, immaculate in frock -coat, brown boots, and a rakish bowler hat. - -"What oh, Sis!" he exclaimed, kissing Tilly affectionately. "Back again -from the Moated Grange--eh? My dinner ready, Mother?" - -"Wait a minute, Percy dear," said Tilly quickly. "I want to talk to -you--all of you. Sit down, everybody. Father!" - -"My daughter?" - -"Come and sit here, please!" - -"A round-table conference?" enquired Mr. Welwyn amiably. "Capital!" - -Tilly upon her own quarter-deck was a very different being from the -frightened little alien whom we saw at Shotley Beauchamp. In two -minutes the Welwyn family had meekly packed themselves round the -octagonal table. Tilly took the chair. - -"Now, then, all of you," she began, with a suspicion of a high-strung -quaver in her voice--"Father, Mother, Percy, and little 'Melia--listen -to me! You know, no one better, that when I went down to Shotley -Beauchamp on Saturday I meant to act perfectly square to Dicky's -people--tell them who I was and what I was, and that I worked for my -living and so on; and generally make sure that they did n't take me in -on false pretences. Is that correct?" - -"Yes--quite correct," chorused the family. - -"Well," continued Tilly defiantly--"I have n't done it! I have n't said -a word! There! I _couldn't_! I have seen Dicky's people, and their -house, and their prosperity, and the way they look at things. They're a -pretty tough proposition, the Mainwarings. They are no better born than -we are; but they are rich, and stupid, and conceited, and purse-proud--" - -"Tilly! Tilly!" said Mrs. Welwyn, scandalised to hear the gentry so -miscalled. - -"Yes, they _are_, Mother!" cried the girl passionately. "You don't know -what I have had to put up with this week-end, when Dicky was n't by. -Why--" - -"Dicky," observed Mr. Welwyn dryly, "is also a Mainwaring, Tilly." - -"Dicky," replied Tilly, with feminine contempt for the laws of heredity -and environment, "may be a Mainwaring, but he does n't take after the -rest of the family. But never mind Dicky for a moment. What I want to -say is this. In dealing with people of this kind--people who regard -those who have no money as so much dirt beneath their feet--there is -only one thing that pays; and that thing," she concluded with intense -conviction, "is--swank, swank, swank!" - -"Good old Tilly!" shouted Percy enthusiastically; and the rest of the -Welwyns, quite carried away by their small despot's earnestness, beat -upon the table with their fists. - -"The Mainwarings swanked for my benefit, I can tell you," continued -Tilly, with cheeks glowing hotly. "They laid off to me about their town -house and their country house and their shooting and their hunting and -their grand relations; and they did their best--especially the -daughter--to make me feel like a little dressmaker who has come in for -the day." - -"I bet you stood up to them, Sis," said the admiring Percy. - -Tilly smiled in a dreamy, reminiscent fashion. - -"I did," she said. "I matched them, brag for brag. They asked who you -were, Mother. I said you were a Banks--one of _the_ Bankses--of -Bedfordshire!" - -Unseemly but sympathetic laughter greeted this announcement, and Mrs. -Welwyn was made the recipient of several congratulatory thumps from her -son and younger daughter. - -"I wasn't quite sure whether it was Bedfordshire or Cambridgeshire," -continued Tilly. "Where is Hitchin, anyway?" - -"Hertfordshire," replied Amelia, and every one laughed again. They had -all things in common, the Welwyns, especially their jokes. - -"Then," Tilly proceeded, "I told them a lovely fairy-tale about our old -town house. Been in the family for generations, and so on." - -"So it has," said Mr. Welwyn. - -"And I also told them," continued the unfilial Tilly, "that Dad was a -bit of an antique himself, and could n't bear to move. Has his roots in -the cellar, so to speak. You don't mind, do you, dear?" she enquired -eagerly. - -"My child," replied Mr. Welwyn, "I feel proud to have figured as one of -your assets." - -"And finally," concluded Tilly, "as I began to warm up to my work a bit, -I added a few things, looking as sweet as anything all the time--like -this!" (Here she treated her enraptured audience to a very creditable -reproduction of Sylvia Mainwaring's languid and superior smile.) "I -chatted about our billiard-room, and our old family butler, and our -motor, and so on. I am afraid I lost my head a bit. I have a notion -that I gave them to understand that we went yachting in the summer!" - -There was more laughter, but Mrs. Welwyn added anxiously:-- - -"You did n't mention anything about Southend, did you, dearie?" - -"Not me!" said Tilly; "though I was feeling utterly reckless by that -time. For two pins I would have told them that I had been presented at -Court!" - -She rose to her feet. - -"That is all I have to say," she announced. "I just mention these little -facts to you so that when the Mainwarings come to tea this afternoon you -may know what to talk about. See?" - -The other members of the conference, avoiding the eager eye of the -chairwoman, began to regard one another uneasily. Then Percy said:-- - -"Tilly, old girl, you've landed us with a bit of a shipping order, ain't -you?" - -Tilly nodded. "You are right," she said. "But it will only be for an -afternoon. We need not invite them again." - -But Percy, who was an honest youth, although he wore a dickey, -hesitated. - -"How about the gallant Ricardo?" he enquired. "What's his position in -this glee-party? Is he with us or them?" - -"Oh--Dicky?" said Tilly, with less confidence. "I have been quite square -with him. I have told him everything." - -"Everything?" enquired several people at once. - -"A good deal, anyhow," maintained Tilly. "I have warned him that I -shan't have a penny to my name; and that I have had very few of the -advantages that the ordinary girl gets; and that he must take me and my -people as he finds us. And he says he prefers me that way. In -fact"--Tilly's thoughts flew back to Sunday's idyll in the pine -wood--"he has said a good deal more than that. And if I want him and he -wants me," she added eagerly, like one anxious to struggle on to less -debatable ground, "what does it matter what we say or do to his silly -old mother and sister? I want my Dicky!" Her eyes shone. "He loves me -and I love him, and that is all there is to be said about it. Father, -Mother, Percy, 'Melia"--Tilly's hands went forth appealingly--"promise -that you will stand by me and see me through!" - -Eight impulsive Welwyn hands closed upon Tilly's two. - -"We'll see you through, Sis," said Percy reassuringly. His eye swept -round the board in presidential fashion. "Those in favour?" - -Four hands flew up. - -"Carried unanimously!" announced Percy; while Tilly, reassured, ran -round the table showering promiscuous embraces upon her relatives. - -"There's the front-door bell, 'Melia," said Mrs. Welwyn, whose provident -instinct never deserted her in her most exalted moments. "It may be a -new lodger. Run down and see." - -Amelia obeyed, and the rest of the House of Welwyn went into Committee. - -"I say," remarked the far-seeing Percy; "may I enquire who is going to -open the front door to our guests this afternoon?" - -The Committee surveyed one another in consternation. - -"None of us can't do it, that's quite plain," said Mrs. Welwyn. "They -would think we had n't got a servant." - -"They would be right, first time," confirmed Percy. - -"The old family butler must do it," said Mr. Welwyn with a dry chuckle. - -"You certainly overreached yourself in the matter of the butler, Sis," -observed Percy. - -"We could get the charwoman, or borrow the girl from the Rosenbaums," -suggested Mrs. Welwyn. - -"But I said a _butler_, Mumsie," objected Tilly dismally. - -"Oh, dear, so you did," sighed Mrs. Welwyn. - -Tilly pondered. - -"I know what we can do," she said. "Percy must meet them, quite -casually, outside in the Square, on his way home from the City--" - -"And let them in with my latch-key--eh?" cried Percy. "That's the -ticket!" - -Mrs. Welwyn, greatly relieved, smiled upon her fertile offspring. Mr. -Welwyn coughed gently. - -"The word 'swank,'" he observed, "is unfamiliar to me; but as we have -decided to incorporate it in our plan of campaign, may I suggest, Percy, -that you allow your guests to ring the front-door bell before overtaking -them?" - -"Righto, Dad," said Percy. "But why?" - -"Well," continued Mr. Welwyn diffidently, "it has occurred to me that -when you have ushered the party into the hall, you might call down the -staircase into the basement, distinctly but not ostentatiously, to some -one--James, or Thomas--you can address him by any name you please--that -there is no need to come up. You see the idea?" - -"Dad," declared Percy, shaking his parent affectionately by the hand, -"you are a marvel! Why, 'Melia, what's the trouble?" - -Amelia, wide-eyed and frightened, was standing in the doorway. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - DE L'AUDACE, ET ENCORE DE L'AUDACE, ET TOUJOURS DE L'AUDACE! - - -"Daddy," announced Amelia in a stage whisper, "there's a man -downstairs." - -"What sort of man?" enquired Mr. Welwyn, rising from his seat and edging -carelessly in the direction of his bedroom door. - -"A rough-looking man." - -"Tell him," said Mr. Welwyn with his hand on the door-handle, "that I am -not at home. Percy! Quick! Keep that fellow out!" - -But it was too late. A stranger stood in the midst of the House of -Welwyn. - -He was an elderly, undersized, seedy-looking individual, with a blue -chin, a red nose, and a faded theatrical manner. In his hand he held a -blue-grey slip of paper. He smiled amiably upon the shrinking figure of -the master of the house. - -"Don't trouble to exit on my account, sir," he remarked wheezily. - -"Who are you?" stammered Mr. Welwyn. "What is the meaning of this -intrusion?" - -"Name of Welwyn?" enquired the stranger briskly. - -"Yes." - -"Loosius?" - -"Yes." - -"Then," announced the stranger, proffering the blue paper, "I must arsk -you for your hospitality for a short time--a mere matter o' _form_, of -course--until this small account is settled. It's Gandy and Cox," he -continued chattily: "seventeen-seventeen-six; and I 'm put in possession -until it's settled. In other words, 'ere I am, and 'ere I stays until I -gets what I came for." - -Depositing his frayed headgear upon the piano, the emissary of Gandy and -Cox was upon the point of selecting a chair, when he became conscious of -a sudden pressure upon the nape of his neck. - -"Outside!" intimated Percy's voice. - -"Pardon me," replied the visitor without moving, "but you touch me at -your own risk. I'm put in by the law." - -There was a stifled cry from Mrs. Welwyn and the girls. - -"The warrant was signed and 'anded to me this morning," continued the -representative of Justice, "at ten-thirty exact. It is now in the 'ands -of your Pa, young ladies--" - -"Law be damned! Out you go!" shouted Percy, whirling the speaker round -towards the door. - -"Reflect!" urged the broker's man, gently resisting Percy's efforts to -eject him by leaning back and digging his heels into the carpet. "What's -the good? If you dot me one and fling me out, it merely means fourteen -days without the option for assaulting a sheriff's officer in the -execution of his duty, on top of the distraint. If you don't believe -me," he added, clinging affectionately to the leg of the piano, which he -was passing at the moment, "go and read the warrant." - -[Illustration: "REFLECT!" URGED THE BROKER'S MAN, GENTLY RESISTING -PERCY'S EFFORTS TO EJECT HIM] - -"He is right, Percy," said Mr. Welwyn. "Leave him alone. A sheriff's -officer!" he muttered brokenly to himself, as his son relinquished his -endeavour to speed the parting guest. "And I was once Fellow and -Tutor!" - -"A broker's man!" wailed Mrs. Welwyn, putting an arm round each of her -daughters. "And I brought you up respectable, dearies!" - -"A broker's man!" echoed Tilly, "and Lady Adela coming here this -afternoon!" - -This was too much for that unpolished but chivalrous youth Percy. -Something must be done, for Tilly's sake. - -"Dad," he said desperately, laying a hand on his father's shoulder, -"ain't you got no money nowhere?" - -Mr. Welwyn shook his head helplessly. - -"Mother?" said Percy. - -"I've got about fifteen shillings," said Mrs. Welwyn, brightening up at -the prospect of action. "How much did that insect"--she indicated the -minion of the law, now warming himself at the fireplace--"say it was?" - -"Seventeen-seventeen-six," replied the insect, with the air of one -letting off a telling repartee. - -"There is n't so much money in all the world!" whispered Amelia -despairingly. - -"I've got six-and-threepence," said Percy, diving into his pockets. - -A thought occurred to Mrs. Welwyn. - -"Father," she enquired of the motionless figure on the sofa, "did n't -you tell me that Gandy and Cox's bill was only a matter of seven -pounds?" - -"It was, it was," said Mr. Welwyn, "but--I ordered a little more, to -keep them quiet." - -Mrs. Welwyn, admirable woman, wasted no time in useless reproaches. -Instead, she turned once more upon the broker's man. - -"Now, look here," she said; "I want to ask a favour of you. We're -expecting company here this afternoon. Will you go away, and come back -in the evening?" - -"And find the front door bolted!" replied the broker's man affably. -"No, I don't _think_! I prefer to remain. I've been in this profession -for some time now--ever since I abandoned _the_ profession, in fact--and -I know a thing or two. I'm sorry," he added, "to disoblige a lady, and I -hope you won't take offence where none was intended. Try to look on the -bright side of things. I might 'ave been a auction." - -Percy broke in upon these comfortable words. - -"Look here," he said; "will you go away for a quid?" - -"There is nothing," replied the visitor, "that I should like at this -present moment better than a quid; but I'm afraid it's my duty to stay. -I shan't do nobody any 'arm, beyond taking a inventory of the furniture. -You'll find me quite a confidential family friend in a day or two, I -should n't wonder. Oh, dear, 'ere's another of 'em coming to 'ave a -go!" - -He closed his eyes resignedly. Before him stood Tilly--small, slim, -white to the lips, with all her world tottering on the brink of the -abyss. In her hands she held a cigar-box. - -"What is your name?" she asked. - -"Surname," replied the broker's man pedantically, "Stillbottle. -Christian ditto, Samuel. Net result, Samuel Stillbottle." - -"Have a cigar, Mr. Stillbottle," said Tilly, with a ghost of a smile. - -Mr. Stillbottle helped himself without comment. He was a man for whom -life held few surprises. "Thank you. But I won't go, mind you," was all -he said. - -Next moment Tilly motioned him to a chair beside the table, and set the -decanter and a glass beside him. "Have something to drink, Mr. -Stillbottle," she said. - -"I shall be pleased to do so," replied Mr. Stillbottle graciously. -"Without prejudice, of course," he added, filling his glass. - -By this time the others, astonished and interrogative, had gathered -round Tilly. - -"Tilly," burst out Percy, "what's the good? He won't go--don't you think -it!" - -"Young man," corroborated Mr. Stillbottle, "you are right. I won't. -You 've done it in one." - -Tilly took an arm of Percy and another of her mother and drew both in -the direction of the sofa. Her breath came fast. - -"Listen," she said rapidly--"you too, Dad! We _will_ have our tea-party. -We won't throw up a single item in the programme. We'll entertain the -Mainwarings, and we'll show them that we know how to do things in proper -style, and we'll make them all enjoy themselves--even Sylvia--and I'll -get my Dicky yet!" - -She paused, and surveyed her mystified audience with shining eyes. - -"But, Sis," enquired the dubious Percy, indicating the fully occupied -Mr. Stillbottle, "what about Rockefeller over there?" - -The indomitable Tilly laughed. - -"He is our old family butler!" she said simply. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - SIDELIGHTS ON A PUBLIC CHARACTER - - -Mr. Samuel Stillbottle, notebook in hand, with a look of professional -severity upon his pinched features, slowly circumnavigated the -drawing-room, making an inventory of the furniture. He was followed, -step for step, by the deeply interested Caution and Cure, who, finding -the bonds of discipline unusually relaxed, owing to the preoccupation of -their elders, had seized an early opportunity of escaping from the -region belowstairs in which they were supposed to be enjoying their -afternoon siesta, in order to pursue their acquaintance with the -gentleman whom they had christened, on sight, "the funny man." They had -encountered Mr. Stillbottle in the kitchen, and had conceived a liking -for him at once. As appraisers of character their point of view was -circumscribed and their judgment immature; but Mr. Stillbottle's -performance at dinner had won their unqualified respect and admiration. -They had accordingly decided to spend the rest of their lives in his -company, and with that intent in view had laboriously scaled the -staircase, and were now doing their best, by a series of ill-timed -demonstrations of cordiality, to obstruct their new friend in the -execution of his duty. - -"Chesterfield sofa--two castors loose--one-fifteen," murmured Mr. -Stillbottle, plying his pencil. ("Run away, that's good children.) -Me'ogany whatnot"--he slipped his hand round behind the piece of -furniture in question--"with deal back, two-ten. Armchair, with off -'ind leg cracked, twelve-and-six. (Run away, that's little dears. Run -away and drown the kitten, or give the canary a shampoo; but don't stand -there starin' at me like a pair of images. I don't like it, so don't do -it.) Now for the 'arpsichord!" - -The harassed Mr. Stillbottle began to examine the Welwyns' piano. The -Cure turned to The Caution. - -"Funny man!" she reiterated ecstatically. - -"Yesh," assented The Caution, who suffered from a slight palatal -affection. "Funny man! Lesh fight him a little bit!" - -As an intimation that the approaching combat was to be of the -friendliest description, he first smiled seraphically upon Mr. -Stillbottle (who was looking the other way at the moment), and then -dealt that gentleman a well-directed blow in the back of each knee -simultaneously with his pudgy fists. Mr. Stillbottle, who, owing to his -ignorance of infantile patois, was entirely unprepared for this -onslaught, promptly fell head-first into the arm-chair with the damaged -hind leg, reducing its value by a further one-and-ninepence. Before he -could extricate himself his enraptured admirers had conceived and -partially put into execution the happy design of tickling him to death. - -"Now, look 'ere," he exclaimed indignantly, when he was sufficiently -recovered from the suddenness of this outrage to resume an upright -position, "you must drop it! Pop off! I won't 'ave it! If I ketch -'old of either of you--if I ketch--all right, say no more about it! I -believe that little girl 'as got the evil eye," he muttered weakly to -himself. Mr. Stillbottle's nerves were not in good order, and The Cure -had regarded him with unwinking steadfastness for something like five -minutes. "Go and play over there," he urged, almost piteously, "and let -me do my job. Now, where was I? Ho, yes--the pianner." - -He submitted that venerable instrument to a further scrutiny. - -"_Collard and Collard_," he observed. ("A very appropriate title, too, -for this 'ouse!) Date, about seventy-four or five, I should say." He -lifted the lid and struck a few inharmonious chords. "Not been tooned -since bought. Loud pedal broke, and ivories off three keys. Mouse-'ole -in the back. Say thirty-five bob, or two p--Will you _drop_ it?" - -Mr. Stillbottle made this request from the floor, upon which he had -suddenly adopted a recumbent attitude. The Caution and the Cure, having -decided to initiate their idol into what they had always considered the -most consummate jest in existence, had placed a heavy footstool close -behind his heels; and Mr. Stillbottle, stepping back a pace in order to -view the _tout ensemble_ of the piano, had carried the joke to a -successful and rapturous conclusion. - -Amid appreciative shrieks of merriment from the twins, their fermenting -playfellow rose solemnly to his feet, and was pausing dramatically for -the double purpose of recovering his breath and deciding upon an -effective scheme of reprisal, when he became aware that the door was -open and that the master of the house was smilingly contemplating the -entertainment. - -"You three appear to be having a romp," said Mr. Welwyn genially. "You -are evidently a lover of children, Mr. Stillbottle!" - -Fortunately for the delicate ears of The Caution and The Cure, Mr. -Stillbottle was still incapable of utterance. By the time that his two -admirers had been escorted to the door by their progenitor and bidden to -return to their own place, his power of speech had returned; but -perceiving that the time for explanation was now past, the misjudged -romper decided to postpone the refutation of the libel until some other -occasion. - -"Be seated, Mr. Stillbottle," said Mr. Welwyn politely. - -Mr. Stillbottle selected the sofa, which it will be remembered had been -marked as high as one pound fifteen. - -"I hope you had a comfortable dinner," continued Mr. Welwyn. - -"Thank you," replied Mr. Stillbottle briefly--"I 'ad." - -Mr. Welwyn produced half-a-sovereign. - -"I make a point of being punctilious over money matters," he said, -handing the coin to the broker's man. "When our little--er--contract -has been carried to a successful conclusion I shall be happy to hand you -another." - -Mr. Stillbottle pocketed the money. - -"When may I expect the other?" he enquired. - -"If all goes well, about six o'clock this evening." - -"I see," said Mr. Stillbottle comprehendingly. "Carriages at -five-forty-five--eh?" - -"Precisely," said Mr. Welwyn. "You have hit off the situation to a -nicety." He laughed, in high spirits. His resilient nature had -entirely recovered from the humiliation of the morning. "Meanwhile"--he -produced a sheet of note-paper--"I shall be obliged if you will kindly -commit these notes to memory." - -Mr. Stillbottle laboriously perused the document. - -"Lord love a duck!" he observed in a dazed voice--"What's this?" - -"A list of--let us say, your entrances and exits this afternoon," -explained Mr. Welwyn smoothly. "You understand theatrical terms, I -believe." - -He had struck the right chord. Mr. Stillbottle's rheumy eye lit up. - -"Entrances and ex-- oho! Now I begin to take you," he said. "We 're -agoin' to do drawing-room theatricals, are we? Kind o' benefit -matinée--eh?" - -"In a sense, yes," replied Mr. Welwyn. "Are you endowed with the -dramatic instinct?" - -"Come again!" said Mr. Stillbottle politely. - -"Could you play a part, do you think?" - -"Could I play a part?" repeated Mr. Stillbottle witheringly. "Could a -duck swim? Why, I was _in_ the profession, off and on, for a matter of -fourteen years." - -"In what capacity?" asked Mr. Welwyn, much interested. - -"Well, I've bin a good many things," said the versatile Stillbottle, -putting his feet up on the sofa. "I've bin a guest in the palace of the -Dook of Alsatia; I 've bin the middle bit of the sea-serpent--what you -might call the prime cut--in a ballet of fish; and I was once the second -wave on the O.P. side of the storm what wrecked Sinbad the Sailor." - -Mr. Welwyn smiled sympathetically. Here was another rolling stone. - -"What made you abandon such a promising career, Mr. Stillbottle?" he -asked. - -The late prime cut of the sea-serpent shook his head gloomily. - -"The old story," he said--"professional jealousy. It started with my -bein' cast for the front legs of a elephant in a pantomime. That was -the stage-manager's bit of spite. My usual place is the _'ind_ -legs--and that takes a bit of doing, I can tell you. (The 'ind legs 'as -to wag the tail, you see.) If I was to tell you the number of 'ind legs -I'd played, you'd be surprised," he continued, plunging into an orgy of -irrelevant reminiscence. "Why, I recollect in eighty-four, at the Old -Brit., 'Oxton way--" - -"But what was the matter with the front legs you were speaking of?" -enquired Mr. Welwyn opportunely. - -"The matter," replied Mr. Stillbottle testily, "was that they was n't -_'ind_ legs. Not bein' used to them, I stepped in wrong way round on -the first night. We got shoved on the stage somehow, but every time we -started to move I ran straight into the 'ind legs. In the end we broke -the elephant's back between us. What was more, we spoiled the Principal -Boy's best song. The audience was much too occupied watchin' a elephant -givin' a imitation of a camel to listen to _'er_. Besides, she was -sittin' on the elephant 'erself at the time, and bein' rather stout, 'ad -'er work cut out to 'old on. She got me fired next day. Said I was n't -sober." - -"That was a libel, of course," said Mr. Welwyn soothingly. - -"In a manner of speakin'," replied Mr. Stillbottle guardedly--"yes." He -took up Mr. Welwyn's sheet of note-paper again. - -"What is all this?" he enquired rather querulously. "Stage directions, -or cues, or what?" - -"Everything," said Mr. Welwyn. "Your lines and business, in fact." - -Mr. Stillbottle nodded comprehendingly, and proceeded to read aloud:-- - -"_When front-door bell rings, answer door and show party up, asking -their names and announcing them distinctly._" - -"You can do that?" - -"I'll 'ave a dash for it, anyway. Then: _Bring in tea and put it on -tea-table_." - -Mr. Stillbottle's unsteady gaze wandered round the apartment until it -encountered the table. - -"Tea-table, left centre," he remarked to himself. "_Then, at irregular -intervals, come in and make the following remarks to me_:--that's you, I -suppose?" - -Mr. Welwyn nodded, and Mr. Stillbottle read the paper aloud to the end. -Then he slowly folded it up, and remarked, not altogether unreasonably, -that he was damned. He added a respectful rider in the French tongue, -to the effect that Mr. Welwyn was _très moutarde_. - -"You understand," said his employer with great seriousness--he had -crossed the Rubicon now, and was determined to risk nothing by imperfect -rehearsal--"you must use your own discretion as to when you come in with -your messages. About once every ten minutes, I should say." - -"Don't you think, governor," suggested Mr. Stillbottle, almost timidly, -"that that last stretcher--the one about the shover--is just a bit _too_ -thick? Suppose your guests start askin' to see the car--what, then? -You'll be in the cart, you know!" - -"It is all right," said Mr. Welwyn. "I am giving the car up, on account -of recent taxation, and so on. It is in the market now, and may be sold -at any moment--to-day, perhaps." - -"I beg pardon," said Mr. Stillbottle humbly. "I see I can teach you -nothing." Then he added, conversationally: "Did you ever know a Captain -Slingsby, by any chance?" - -"No. Who was he?" - -"Another of the lads, like yourself. I thought perhaps you might have -been workin' with him at some time. I came acrost him once or twice. He -was a pretty tough nut. His line was to dress up as a curate and get -himself adopted by rich widders; but he was n't the artist you are, sir. -He 'ad n't your education, I should say. Are the whole family in this, -may I enquire?" - -"Er--yes," replied Mr. Welwyn helplessly. - -"Ah!" Mr. Stillbottle nodded his head. "I thought somehow that I had -come on a happy visit to the Nut Family as soon as I got acquainted with -your two youngest. Well, it's a pleasure to work with people at the top -of their profession, and I'll see you through." - -Mr. Welwyn thanked him, almost inaudibly. - -"But when do you suppose," pursued Mr. Stillbottle, transferring his -feet from the sofa to the floor, "that I shall get out of this Dramatic -Academy of yours? I 'ave n't come 'ere for a _course_, you know. Are -you going to touch the tea-party for the money, or let me distrain on -the furniture, or what?" - -"I can't tell you at present," said Mr. Welwyn; "but I will endeavour to -arrange something by the evening." - -"Well, let me know soon, ole sport," said Mr. Stillbottle--"that's all. -I 'ave my arrangements to make, too, remember. My _word_, look at -Mother!" - -This interjection was occasioned by the entrance of Mrs. Welwyn and -Amelia, dressed for the party. Mrs. Welwyn was arrayed in a quieter and -more tasteful fashion than might have been expected. Her costume, which -had been designed and constructed by her eldest daughter, would have -struck an impartial critic as one which made the very best of her age -and figure. Amelia wore a short white frock, with a blue sash. Her long -coppery hair flowed to her waist, and her hazel eyes were aglow with -excitement. - -"Father dear, what do you think of the way Tilly has turned me out?" -enquired Mrs. Welwyn gaily. - -For the moment her troubles were behind her. For once she was -suitably--and to the outward eye expensively--attired; and the knowledge -of the fact had induced in her humble but feminine soul that degree of -minor intoxication which the materially-minded male usually achieves, -more grossly but less extravagantly, by means of a pint of champagne. - -Slowly gyrating for the delectation of her husband, Mrs. Welwyn -unexpectedly encountered the unsympathetic gaze of Mr. Stillbottle. She -blushed red, and ceased to revolve. - -"Oh, that you?" she exclaimed, in an embarrassed voice. - -"Yes, it's me--what's left of me," replied Mr. Stillbottle lugubriously. -"Wearing me out, this job is." - -He displayed his paper of cues. - -Mrs. Welwyn regarded him severely. - -"It's time you dressed yourself," she said. "I have put my son's -evening clothes out for you--in the bathroom," she added pointedly. -"You had better go and put them on. He is bigger than you, but you'll -manage." - -Mr. Stillbottle acquiesced. - -"Very good," he remarked graciously. "Wardrobe mistress must be obeyed, -I suppose. I'm beginning to warm up to this part. I shall surprise you -all yet." - -"I hope not," murmured Mr. Welwyn devoutly. - -"Did you tell him about the name, Father?" prompted Amelia. - -"No, I forgot," said Mr. Welwyn. "Mr. Stillbottle, I think this -afternoon that we had better address you by some other name than your -own." - -"What," enquired Mr. Stillbottle, with a touch of hauteur, "is the -matter with me own little patteronymic?" - -"Just to sustain the character, you know," urged Mr. Welwyn. - -Mr. Stillbottle sighed, in humorous resignation. - -"All right," he said. "Confer the title." - -Mr. Welwyn turned to his wife. - -"What do you say to 'Howard,' Mother?" he asked. - -"Nothing with an H in front of it for _me_, dearie, if you please," -announced Mrs. Welwyn firmly. "I can see enough rocks of that kind -ahead of me this afternoon as it is." - -"Why not 'Russell'?" suggested Amelia. "Russell Square, you know." - -Mrs. Welwyn stroked her resourceful little daughter's hair gratefully. - -"That will do finely," she said. "You are Russell," she announced -briefly to Mr. Stillbottle. - -The newly christened infant acquiesced listlessly, and rose from the -sofa. - -"Now I must tear myself away," he said, "to don me trunks and 'ose and -get up this patter. I'm a slow study. No promptin', I presume?" - -"No," said Mr. Welwyn. - -"Gaggin' permitted?" enquired Mr. Stillbottle, without much hope. - -"Certainly not." - -"Very good. So long, everybody. _Exit Russell_, door in back." - -With a theatrical gesture, the ci-devant impersonator of elephants' hind -legs disappeared. The Welwyns regarded one another apprehensively. - -"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Welwyn. - -"We must make the best of him, Martha," said her husband. "After all, -we did not invite him here of our own accord: he _has_ to be present in -the house in some capacity. Still, I admit he is the weak spot in our -enterprise--the heel of Achilles, so to speak." - -But Mr. Welwyn was wrong. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - REHEARSED EFFECTS - - -"_H_as _H_erbert," enquired Mrs. Welwyn, taking a deep breath, "_h_urt -_H_orace?" She choked. "Oh, dear!" - -"Very good, Mumsie," said Amelia encouragingly. "Go on." - -"But it puts me out of breath so, child, as soon as I begin to think of -it," complained her pupil. "I shall never learn." - -"Yes, you will," said Amelia confidently. "H's are just a matter of -proper breathing, Daddy says. Now try the next sentence, and remember -there's a trap in it!" - -Miss Amelia seated herself upon the floor, clasping her long black legs -with her arms and resting her chin on her knees. - -"Now," she said, with a little nod. - -Conscientious Mrs. Welwyn, having audibly recharged her lungs, now began -to emit another heavily aspirated sentence. - -"_H_ildebrand," she announced, "_h_as _h_it _H_enry _h_ard -_h_intentionally. There, that's done it!" She sighed despairingly. - -"And I warned you, Mother," said Amelia reproachfully. "That last word -is put in on purpose to trip you up." - -"Yes, I know," replied her mother with an apologetic smile. "And it -always does. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, ducky, and that's a -fact. I have always been common in my talk, and common in my talk I -always will be. All I can promise is that I will do my best this -afternoon; and I hope, for all of your sakes, that your old mother won't -go and disgrace you." - -Little 'Melia's reply to this humble aspiration was an embrace which -entirely disorganised the hooks and eyes at the back of Martha Welwyn's -festal garment. While the disaster was being repaired, Tilly entered -briskly. In her hand she held a printed card, bearing the legend - - APARTMENTS - -in staring letters. This she dropped behind the piano. - -"Hook me up behind, 'Melia, will you," she said, "when you have finished -Mother? No, I'll do Mother and you do me. Your hair-ribbon is wrong. -Let me get hold of it." - -The Welwyns, _mère et filles_, formed themselves into a voluble -equilateral triangle. - -"I found that 'Apartments' card lying on the hall table," said Tilly -with a shiver. "I suppose Russell took it out of the drawer when he was -making his inventory. A nice thing if they had all marched in through -the front door at that very moment! Still," she added cheerily, -"there's no harm done. Am I all right, do you think?" - -"Tilly, you look lovely," said Amelia. - -"One thing about being a dress-designer," admitted Tilly, kissing her -little sister, "is that you can design yourself a dress. 'Melia, you -look a little duck. Mother, your hair is n't quite right. Let me pull -it out a bit here." - -She tweaked the coiffure of her much-enduring parent into position, -whistling blithely. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkled. She was -determined to look her best for Dicky that day. And to do her justice, -she did. - -"Tilly dear," remarked Mrs. Welwyn dubiously, "can we all get round that -table for tea?" - -"Gracious!" cried Tilly, observing the heavily loaded table for the -first time. "You are never going to plant everybody round _that_, like -nursery tea?" - -"Ain't we?" said Mrs. Welwyn blankly. - -"Certainly not," replied Tilly. - -Swiftly she sketched out the fundamentals of that meal which combines -the maximum of discomfort with the minimum of nourishment--afternoon-tea -as consumed by high society in the present period--and in three minutes -the great round table, tipped onto its edge, was trundled rapidly into -Mr. Welwyn's bedroom, to the surprise and discomfort of Mr. Welwyn, who -was dressing at the time. - -"Now a small tea-table," commanded Tilly. - -"There is n't such a thing in the house, love," panted her overheated -parent. - -"Yes, there is," said little 'Melia, the ever-ready. "In Mr. -Pumpherston's room. He keeps a text framed in fir-cones on it." - -"You're right, dear; I had forgotten," admitted Mrs. Welwyn. "Well, -Pumpherston is going to get bounced this evening anyway, so we might as -well have his table now as then. Come with me and get it. He's out." - -Left alone, Tilly flitted about the room, reviving its faded glories as -far as she was able by deft touches here and there; straightening -curtains, patting cushions, and confiding to various unresponsive -articles of upholstery the information that her Love was like a Red, Red -Rose. - -"Tea-table here, I think," she said, pausing. "Probably Lady Adela would -have hers nearer the fire; but then Lady Adela's drawing-room carpet has -not got a hole in it. Come in!" - -The door opened, and an eerie figure appeared. It was Mr. Russell--_né_ -Stillbottle--in his shirt-sleeves, wearing an insecurely fastened -dickey. His black trousers, being much too long for him, presented a -corrugated appearance. In his hand he carried a great bunch of pink -carnations. - -"These 'ave just been 'anded in, Miss," he announced. "No name, -and"--with a slight note of congratulation in his voice--"nothing to -pay." - -Tilly thanked him, and, taking the flowers, buried her face in the heart -of the bunch. When she withdrew it she found that Mr. Stillbottle was -still present. - -"If you could find him, Miss," he said deferentially, "I should like to -'ave a word with the Chief Nut." - -"Who?" - -"The old feller that's running this fake." - -"Oh, my father?" said Tilly, biting her lip. "He is dressing, I think." -She tucked three or four carnations into her belt and began to arrange -the others in a bowl. - -"Then, perhaps," said Mr. Russell, "you could advise me on a purely -personal matter." - -"Certainly," replied Tilly absently. Dicky's gift still claimed all her -attention. - -"It's these trousers, Miss," explained Russell confidentially. "They -are the pair supplied by the management; and between ourselves I don't -think they suit me. Brother Perce may 'ave a faithful 'eart, but 'e 's -_built_ all wrong. These trousers are six or eight inches too long in -the leg. I feel as if I was wearin' a pair of concertinas. Now--" - -This sartorial jeremiad was cut short by the entrance of Mrs. Welwyn, -who, travelling full-speed astern and towing Amelia and the tea-table of -Pumpherston in her wake, butted the double doors open, and backed -heavily into the orator. Mr. Russell, looking deeply injured, retired to -complete his toilet. - -"That's better," said Tilly, when the small tea-table had been placed -over the hole in the carpet, and the tea-tray had been placed over a -hole in the tablecloth. "Is everything ready?" - -"Yes," said Amelia. - -"What about the babies?" - -"I have washed and dressed them," said Mrs. Welwyn. "Melia will fetch -them down for a few minutes about a quarter-to-six." - -"That's all right," said Tilly approvingly. "They are darlings, both of -them, and I should like to have them down all the time, but it's too -risky. What time is it now?" - -"Ten minutes to five," said Amelia. - -"Mercy!" exclaimed Mrs. Welwyn, greatly agitated at the proximity of her -hour. "Where shall I sit, Tilly dear?" - -"On the sofa, Mumsie; and don't get hot, because you are looking very -nice," said Tilly soothingly. "Hallo, Dad--just in time!" - -Mr. Welwyn in a frock-coat, looking quite the scholar and gentleman, had -entered from his bedroom. - -"I perceive the feast is spread," he observed jauntily. "Mistress of -Ceremonies, how do we dispose ourselves?" - -"Mother here," replied meticulous Tilly--"on the sofa with the 'Morning -Post.' I picked it up off the floor of the railway-carriage this -morning. Don't read it; just be glancing at it carelessly. Father, sit -by the fire with a book. Here's one. 'Melia, you had better be on a -footstool at Mother's feet, with your head against her knee. Don't fall -over her when you get up, Mother. And don't come forward more than -three steps to meet Lady Adela: you 're as good as she is, remember. -Say it's very sweet of her to come all this way. And if you call her -'your Ladyship,' I shall walk straight across the room and kill -you--see?" - -"Yes, lovey," sighed the flustered Mrs. Welwyn. "What _do_ I call her?" - -"Lady Adela--not Lady Mainwaring, mind!" - -"It sounds so familiar, starting Christian names right off," objected -Mrs. Welwyn feebly. - -"Never mind; you've got to do it," said Tilly ruthlessly. "I shall be -here by the tea-table, and if any of you get on to thin ice I shall drop -a teaspoon. Do you all understand?" - -"Yes, Tilly," replied a respectful chorus. - -"Very well, then," replied the Mistress of Ceremonies. "Now let me see -you all in your places. Attention!" - -Tilly clapped her hands, and her well-drilled retinue froze into their -appointed attitudes. - -"Don't hold the 'Morning Post' as if you were trying to lick butter off -it, Mother," said Tilly. "'Melia, pull up your stocking. Dad, you are -splendid, but you are laughing. This is a serious business, remember. -Now, all keep like that for two minutes, to see if--Mercy on us, here -they are!" - -But she was wrong. - -The door creaked, and swung slowly open, to admit the attenuated figure -of Grandma Banks, who in the most unconcerned fashion possible hobbled -across the room to the fireplace and seated herself in the vacant -armchair opposite to her son-in-law, with every appearance of having -come to anchor for the evening. - - ---- - -Grandma's descendants gathered into a panic-stricken knot in the corner. - -"She _can't_ stay!" whispered Tilly frantically. "Mother, get her to -bed." - -"My dearie," responded Mrs. Welwyn helplessly, "you know what she is -when she smells a rat!" - -"Try, anyhow!" urged Tilly, glancing feverishly at the clock. - -Mrs. Welwyn approached her aged parent much as a small boy approaches a -reputed wasp's nest. - -"Mother," she said nervously. - -"Eh?" replied Mrs. Banks, looking up sharply and scrutinising her -daughter over her glasses. "What 'ave you got them things on for? Goin' -out somewhere? At your age, too!" she added irrelevantly. - -"Yes--no--yes," stammered Martha Welwyn, who tampered with the truth -with difficulty. "I've arranged for you to have your tea in your own -room this afternoon, Mother." - -"Why?" enquired Mrs. Banks at once. - -"You are not looking very well," interposed Mr. Welwyn rashly. - -"I'm eighty-one," retorted the old lady with great spirit, "and as -'earty as ever I was, Welwyn. I shall 'ave my tea in 'ere." - -"We rather want this room this afternoon, dear," resumed Mrs. Welwyn -gallantly. "Father has some people coming in on business." - -"Is Father going to get a job of work to do?" riposted Grandma Banks, in -tones of gratified surprise. - -Mr. Welwyn blew his nose sheepishly, and the clock struck five. Tilly -came forward and knelt by her grandmother's chair. - -"It is very important for all of us, Granny," she pleaded, "that Father -should have an undisturbed talk with these people; so we thought we -would keep this room clear this afternoon. You don't want to be -troubled with strangers, do you? Nasty, loud-voiced people." - -"I likes people with loud voices," replied the old lady cantankerously. -"I can 'ear what they says." - -"But they're only going to talk business," urged Tilly. "Come along, -there's a dear old Grandma. You'll be much more comfortable in your own -room. There's a nice fire there, and I'll bring you in a lovely tea. -Take my arm." - -By this time Mrs. Banks had been raised to her feet, and now found -herself being gently but inexorably propelled in the direction of the -door. - -"You don't _want_ me, that's the truth," she observed, getting -reluctantly under way. "You 're ashamed of your old Grandma, that's -what it is." - -"Nonsense, darling," said Tilly. "You know how fond we all are of you. -But you would only be tired out by a lot of people." - -"No," persisted the old lady, "you don't want me." - -She hobbled through the door on her grand-daughter's arm, still speaking -the truth. - -"Poor old Granny!" Tilly's voice said very gently. "I promise to make -it all up to you some day." - -The bedroom door on the other side of the landing was heard to open and -shut, and there was momentary silence. Then the front-door bell emitted -a majestic peal. The sound thrilled the Welwyns like a tocsin. Tilly -darted in. - -"Get to your places," she whispered. - -The troupe hastily resumed their proper poses, and a tense silence -ensued. - -Mrs. Welwyn took a deep breath. - -"_H_as _H_orace," she enquired in a hoarse and hysterical whisper, -"_h_urt _H_erbert? No, but _H_ildebrand--" - -"They are in the hall," hissed Amelia. - -"They are coming up," said Mr. Welwyn calmly. - -Suddenly Tilly's fortitude deserted her. - -"I can't bear it!" she wailed, and bolted incontinently through the -inner door into her father's room. - -"Tilly darling, don't leave us!" was the agonised cry of Mrs. Welwyn and -Amelia.... - -Next moment Mr. Welwyn, finding himself alone in his own drawing-room, -rose to his feet and, as rapidly as was compatible with the dignity of a -scholar and a gentleman, joined the panic-stricken mob in his bedroom. - -Almost simultaneously the door onto the landing was thrown open, and Mr. -Stillbottle's wheezy voice announced:-- - -"Lord Mainwaring, Lady Mainwaring, and party!" Then in a surprised and -informal tone:-- - -"Hallo! Stage clear?" - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - UNREHEARSED - - -Mr. Mainwaring, Lady Adela, and party--the latter comprised Sylvia, -Connie Carmyle, and Dicky--came to a standstill in the middle of the -vast and empty drawing-room and looked enquiringly about them. Lady -Adela, upon whom the labour of climbing the staircase had told heavily, -first deleted from her features the stately smile which she had -mechanically assumed before crossing the threshold, and then began to -sit down upon the piece of furniture which Mr. Stillbottle had recently -valued at twelve-and-six-pence. - -"I would n't set in that chair, mum, not if I was you," remarked a husky -voice in her ear. "The off 'hid leg is a trifle dicky." - -Lady Adela, suspended in mid-air like Mahomet's coffin, started -violently upwards into a vertical position, and then, having, on the -advice of the officious Mr. Stillbottle, selected the sofa, took in the -drawing-room with one comprehensive sweep of her lorgnette. - -Mr. Stillbottle withdrew, doubtless to con his lines. - -"H'm," remarked Lady Adela. "This is evidently not one of the rooms -that has just been in the hands of the painters and decorators." - -"Dick," enquired Sylvia, who had been superciliously inspecting the -mahogany whatnot with the deal back, "who was that furtive Oriental -person who slipped past us on the staircase? Not another future -relative-in-law, I trust." - -"The stout nigger gentleman, you mean?" said Dicky, with unimpaired good -humour. "I fancy he must have been calling on Mr. Welwyn about his -studies. I have a notion that London University is somewhere about -here." - -"What a jolly old-fashioned house this is," said Connie from the -window-seat. "How nice and shady this big square must be in summer." - -"It is a fairly shady locality all the year round, I fancy," observed -Sylvia sweetly. - -Kind-hearted Mr. Mainwaring coughed, and looked unhappily towards his -son. But Dicky did not appear to have heard. He had just discovered -his carnations. - -Lady Adela took up the tale. - -"There was a small but ferocious-looking creature with red whiskers," -she announced, "hanging over the banisters on the top floor. Who would -he be, now?" - -"Don't ask me, Mum," said Dicky. "I've never been in the house before, -remember, except downstairs. Probably a paper-hanger, or--" - -He was interrupted by the entrance of a stately procession headed by -Mrs. Welwyn, the rest following in single file. - -Tilly effected the necessary introductions prettily and with perfect -composure; and presently the company assorted itself into what we will -call Tableau Number One. Mr. Welwyn led Lady Adela back to the seat -which she had vacated. - -"Most of the furniture in this mansion of ours is Early Victorian," he -announced with a ready laugh; "but I think you will find this sofa -comfortably Edwardian, Lady Adela." - -Lady Adela, favourably impressed with her host's appearance and manner, -smiled graciously and once more cautiously lowered herself onto the -sofa. Here, in obedience to an almost imperceptible sign from her -husband, the quaking Mrs. Welwyn joined her, and announced, in a voice -which she entirely failed to recognise as her own, that it was very -sweet of them all to come so far. - -Amelia ran impulsively to Dicky and kissed him. Mrs. Carmyle, Sylvia, -and Tilly fell into a chattering group round the tea-table. Mr. Welwyn -and Mr. Mainwaring shook hands warmly and exchanged greetings. The -tea-party was launched. - -"How many years is it, Welwyn?" asked Mr. Mainwaring. - -"Let us not rake up the past, my dear Mainwaring," said Mr. Welwyn. -"More years than we care to count--eh? We'll leave it at that. But I am -delighted to meet you again. I wonder how the old College prospers. -Foster was your tutor, was n't he?" - -"Yes," replied Mr. Mainwaring, pleasantly flattered to find that a man -who had been two years senior to him should remember so much about him. - -"Mine, too," mentioned Mr. Welwyn, as if determined to put his guest at -his ease. - -"He's a bishop now, I hear," said Mr. Mainwaring. - -"_Eheu, fugaces_!" sighed Mr. Welwyn. "Come and sit by the fire." - -"I think we had better have tea, Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn, as per -programme. - -The Welwyn family, recognising a cue, began to bestir themselves for -Tableau Number Two. - -"I seem to hear it coming up, Mother," replied Tilly. - -She was right. Portentous rattlings and puffings were now audible -without. Next moment the doors were bumped open and Mr. Stillbottle -appeared, carrying the tea-pot on a tray. - -Apparently something was on his mind. His appearance was that of a -righteous man deeply wronged. His was the demeanour of a British -artisan compelled by forces which he cannot control to perform a task -not included in his contract. - -A moment later the situation explained itself. Behind Mr. Stillbottle, -clinging affectionately to his flowing coat-tails, marched The Caution -and The Cure. They were dressed in white, and looked exactly alike -except that The Caution wore abbreviated white knickerbockers and The -Cure a little white skirt. Their socks were white, their sashes and -chubby legs were a radiant pink, and the angelic countenance of each was -wreathed in smiles. - -The procession drew up at the tea-table, where its leader proceeded to -deposit the tea-pot. For a moment there was a pause in the -conversation, while the hearts of the Welwyns stood still. The Twins, -uncontrolled, sometimes erred on the side of originality. - -"He's the Queen," explained The Cure, indicating the flinching figure of -Mr. Stillbottle. - -"Yesh; and we're holdin' up of his train," added The Caution. - -Next moment Connie Carmyle had captured them both. - -"You darlings!" she cried, and carried them off to the window-seat. The -situation was saved. - -"Little pets!" observed Lady Adela, smiling. - -Even Sylvia forgot to pose for a moment. Tea was served amid a hum of -cheerful conversation. The children had evoked the maternal instinct, -and all was well. - -Only Mr. Stillbottle remained cold. - -"You oughter 'ave kep' them locked up somewhere," he announced severely -to Tilly; and left the room. - -"I don't see your son here, Mrs. Welwyn," said Lady Adela. "We had the -pleasure of his company for a few minutes on Saturday." - -"He will be here any minute, your--Lady Adela," replied Mrs. Welwyn with -a jerk. "He is usually kept in the City till close on five, poor boy." - -"That aged retainer of yours seems to be a bit of an autocrat, Tilly," -said Dicky, taking Mrs. Carmyle's chair at the tea-table. - -"Yes," agreed Tilly, feeling rather miserable at having to talk to Dicky -in this strain; "but you know what old servants are. In their eyes we -never grow up." - -"Has he been with you for long, then?" enquired Sylvia, with a deep -appearance of interest. - -"How long has Russell been with us, Mother?" said Tilly, noting that -Mrs. Welwyn's conversation with Lady Adela was beginning to flag. - -"I can't remember, dear. It seems a long time, anyhow," replied Mrs. -Welwyn with sincerity. "Ah, here is Percy. Come in, my boy. Just in -time to hand round the cakes!" - -"You can trust little Perce," observed that engaging youth, entirely at -his ease, "to be on the spot at the right moment. How de do, Lady -Adela? I hope this finds you as it leaves me." - -He shook the very limp hand of Lady Adela, and having bestowed an -ingratiating smile upon Sylvia, proceeded amid a slowly intensifying -silence to offer a humorous greeting to Mr. Mainwaring. Finally he -turned to Dicky, and slapped him boisterously upon the shoulder. - -"Well, my brave Ricardo," he enquired, "how goes it?" - -"Percy, dear old thing," responded Dicky promptly, with his most vacant -laugh, "how splendid to see you again! Come and tell me all about your -club run on Sunday." - -He drew the flamboyant cyclist to a place of safety, and Tilly breathed -again. - -"There is sugar and cream in this cup, Lady Adela," said Amelia, with a -neat bob-curtsey. - -"Thank you, little girl," said Lady Adela, taking the cup and smiling -indulgently. ("Like a Duchess out slumming," Amelia told Tilly -afterwards.) "What pretty manners!" she continued, turning to Mrs. -Welwyn. "Where do you send her to school? I used to find it so -difficult--" - -"She has left school," replied Mrs. Welwyn. "I suppose we ought to send -her somewhere to get finished later on, but there--we can't do without -her, and that's the truth. Can we, dear?" - -Martha Welwyn put an arm round her little daughter. She was talking -with greater freedom and confidence now, with her aspirates under -perfect control. - -"I can quite understand _that_," said Lady Adela affably. "I dare say -you find her indispensable." - -"I should think so," replied Mrs. Welwyn, lowering her guard. "What -with all the staircases, and a basement kitchen, and separate meals--" - -Tilly dropped a teaspoon with a clatter on to the tray. - -"I'm so sorry, Sylvia," she said. "Did I make you jump?" - -"No," responded Sylvia absently. "I was looking at your butler. He -seems to have something on his mind." - -Mr. Stillbottle, who had entered the room two minutes previously, and -had been awaiting an opportunity of gaining the ear of the company, took -advantage of the partial silence which now ensued. - -"A person has called, sir," he announced to Mr. Welwyn, "for to iron the -billiard table." - -Mr. Welwyn broke off his conversation with Mr. Mainwaring. - -"Thank you," he said in an undertone. "Let him do so by all means." - -"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Stillbottle, turning to go. - -"Tell him," added Percy, highly pleased with the manner in which the -little comedy was unfolding itself, "to see if any of the cues want -tips." - -"Very good," said Mr. Stillbottle, in a voice which plainly asked why -Percy should "gag," when he might not. - -The door closed once more, and another hurdle was negotiated. The -Welwyns heaved little sighs of relief: Russell's was an unnerving -presence. But Tilly glanced at the honest, laughing face of the man who -loved her, and felt suddenly ashamed. - -"Quite a character, that old fellow," said Mr. Welwyn breezily. -"Incorrigibly idle; painfully outspoken; a domestic tyrant of the most -oppressive type; but honest as the day. I must get some one to put him -in a book. Lady Adela, you have nothing to eat." - -Mr. Welwyn deftly changed places with his wife, who gratefully engaged -in a conversation with Mr. Mainwaring; and the rest of the company -performed one of those complicated evolutions which children call a -"general post," and which affords persons of mature years but -intellectual poverty the inestimable boon of being able to employ the -same topics of conversation several times over. Tableau Number Three -was now set. - -For a moment Dicky and Tilly found themselves together. - -"Tea, old man?" asked Tilly, offering a cup. - -"Thanks, little thing," replied Dicky, touching her hand under the -saucer. - -"Did you send these?" Tilly looked down at her pink carnations. - -Dicky nodded, and his gaze became suddenly ecstatic. - -"Tilly," he said in tones of exultant pride, "you are looking perfectly -beautiful." - -"This is a strictly business meeting," smiled Tilly; but her heart -bumped foolishly. For a moment nothing seemed to matter save the -knowledge that Dicky loved her and she loved Dicky. - -The next event of any importance was the discovery that Mrs. Carmyle, -engrossed with the twins, had had no tea. There were cries of -contrition from the Welwyn family, and Connie was hurried to the -tea-table, followed by the desolating howls of her youthful -admirers--howls which increased to yells when Mrs. Welwyn announced that -it was time for them to return whence they came. However, they were -pacified by an offer from their new friend to accompany them part of the -way; and after submitting with a sweetness as adorable as it was -unexpected to an embrace from Lady Adela, they left the room clinging to -Connie's skirts, having contributed to the programme the one -unassailably successful item of the whole afternoon. - -Amelia went with them, but returned almost immediately. - -"Mrs. Carmyle is telling them a story in the dining-room," she said to -her mother. "They are as good as gold with her." - -"Dear Constance! She is a fairy godmother to all children," remarked -Lady Adela, who was feeling quite remarkably beatific. - -"Yes--children of all ages," corroborated Dicky, catching Tilly's eye. - -"I declare," cried Mrs. Welwyn suddenly, as this pleasant episode -terminated, "I had almost forgotten. Tilly dear, you had better take -your grandmother's tea in to her." - -"All right, Mother," assented Tilly blithely. The party was shaping into -a success. - -"I am so sorry, Lady Adela," said Mr. Welwyn, picking up the new topic -with the readiness of a practised conversationalist, "that you will not -meet my wife's mother this afternoon. She spends a good deal of her -time with us. A dear old lady--quite of the Early Victorian school." - -"She is not unwell, I hope," said Lady Adela politely. - -"A slight chill--a mere nothing," Mr. Welwyn assured her; "but at that -age one has to be careful. The doctor is keeping her in bed to-day. I -regret it, because I think you would have enjoyed a conversation with -her. She is a mistress of the rounded phrase and polished diction of -two generations ago. So unlike the staccato stuff that passes for -conversation nowadays." - -"Too true, too true!" agreed Lady Adela, eagerly mounting one of her pet -hobby-horses. "She sounds most stimulating. It is unfashionable to-day -to be elderly. My daughter informs me that no one--not even a -grandmother--should have any recollection of anything that happened -previous to the period when people wore bustles. All time before that -she sums up as the chignon age. No, there is no sense of perspective -nowadays. We are all for the present." - -"Admirably put, dear Lady Adela," cooed Mr. Welwyn. "I remember--" - -What Mr. Welwyn remembered will never be known, for at that moment the -door opened, slowly but inexorably, and Grandma Banks appeared. She -advanced into the room with a few uncertain and tottering steps, peered -round her, and nodded her head with great vigour. - -"I thought so," she observed triumphantly. "Company! No wonder I were -sent to bed." - -There was a paralysed silence. Mr. Welwyn was the first to recover his -presence of mind. He advanced upon his infirm but irrepressible -relative shaking a playful finger. - -"This is very, very naughty," he announced reproachfully. "What will -the doctor say?" - -[Illustration: "THIS IS VERY NAUGHTY," HE ANNOUNCED REPROACHFULLY] - -"Eh?" enquired Grandma. - -"You were told to stay in bed, you know, dear," said Mrs. Welwyn, coming -to her husband's assistance. - -"I were n't never told no such thing by nobody," replied the old lady -explicitly. - -Tilly, avoiding Sylvia's eye, decided to make the best of the situation. - -"Well, now you are here, Granny," she interposed brightly, "you must -come and sit snugly by the fire and have some tea. 'Melia, bring that -little three-legged table and put it by Granny's chair, and bring a -footstool." - -The Welwyns, swiftly taking their cue from Tilly, bestirred themselves -in fulsome desperation, and in a few minutes Grandma Banks, a trifle -flustered by her sudden and most unusual popularity, found herself -tucked into her armchair by the assiduous efforts of the entire family. - -"This is my grandmother, Mrs. Banks," said Tilly to Mr. Mainwaring, who -happened to be sitting nearest. - -"I trust, Mrs. Banks," began Mr. Mainwaring with a deferential bow, -"that you are not allowing your sense of hospitality to overtax your -strength." - -"Eh?" enquired Mrs. Banks, as ever. - -"She is rather deaf," explained Tilly in an undertone. "Don't strain -your voice by talking to her too long." - -"The gentleman," announced Grandma unexpectedly, "shall talk to me as -long as he likes." - -"Aha, Tilly, old lady! That's one for you," cried the watchful Percy, -and the Welwyn family laughed, hurriedly and tumultuously. Grandma's -octogenarian heart glowed. Social success had come to her at last. She -began to enjoy herself hugely. Tilly cast an anxious glance round her. -Grandma's entrance had sensibly lowered the temperature of the -tea-party, and worse threatened. Already Lady Adela was exhibiting a -tendency to edge towards the fireplace. It was only too plain that she -contemplated yet another "cosy chat." Tilly decided to fall back upon -the one trustworthy person in the room. - -"Granny," she said, taking Dicky by the arm and leading him forward, "I -want to introduce Mr. Dick Mainwaring. You have heard of him, have n't -you?" - -Mrs. Banks surveyed Dicky over her spectacles. - -"Yes," replied Mrs. Banks with deliberation, "I 'ave 'eard of you. You -and our Tilly are walking out." - -Dicky assented with a happy laugh, and dropped into the only chair in -Grandma's vicinity. Tilly breathed again: Lady Adela's further advance -was checked. The party settled down once more, and talk broke out -afresh. - -Grandma Banks, whose conversational flights were not as a rule -encouraged by her relatives, availed herself of her present emancipation -to embark upon a brief homily to Dicky. - -"I tells you this, young man," she said in a hectoring voice, "you've -got a treasure in our Tilly. Don't you forget it." - -"I made that discovery for myself a long time ago," said Dicky. He -smiled up at his treasure, who was sitting upon the arm of his chair. - -The treasure's grandmother, having in the mean time been supplied with -refreshment by Amelia, took a piece of bread-and-butter and rolled it up -into a convenient cylinder. - -"Yes," she continued, dipping the end of the cylinder into her tea, "she -takes after her mother, does Tilly. She may get some of her looks from -her father's side, but when it comes to character, she's a Banks." Her -aged voice rose higher. "Always been respectable, 'as the Bankses," she -announced shrilly. "Very different from--" - -At this point not less than three persons enquired of Lady Adela if she -would not take another cup of tea; and in the hospitable mêlée which -ensued Grandma's further utterances were obscured. - -Percy was holding Lady Adela's cup, and Tilly was re-filling it, when -the door opened and Mr. Stillbottle made his second entrance. As -before, he came to a halt immediately on appearing, and coughed in a -distressing fashion without making any attempt to deliver his lines. - -"There is that quaint old retainer of yours again, Tilly," said Sylvia. - -Tilly turned quickly. - -"Well, Russell?" she asked. - -Mr. Stillbottle, ignoring her entirely, addressed himself to the master -of the house. - -"A message has came through on the telephone, sir," he chanted, fixing -his eyes upon an imaginary prompt-book on the opposite wall, "askin' for -you to be so kind as to attend a meetin' of the Club C'mittee at three -o'clock on Toosday next." - -"I think I am engaged," replied Mr. Welwyn, with an anxious glance in -the direction of his mother-in-law (who was fortunately busily occupied -in masticating a cylinder); "but say I will let them know." - -"Right," said Mr. Stillbottle, and departed. - -The Welwyns, who during the time occupied by their butler's second -"turn," had been inclining uneasy ears in the direction of the open -doorway, surveyed one another in a frightened fashion. All was not well -on the second floor: evidence to that effect was plainly audible. - -"Great bore, these committee meetings," commented Mr. Welwyn. "I expect -you have your fill of them, Mainwaring." - -"Alas, yes!" said Mr. Mainwaring. "They are all the same. Everybody -sits and looks portentously solemn--" - -"All sorts of non-controversial business is brought forward as a matter -of pressing importance--" - -"Everybody disagrees with everybody else--" - -"And ultimately everything is left to the Secretary, who arranges -matters quite satisfactorily without any assistance whatsoever!" - -The two elderly gentlemen laughed happily at their own spirited little -dialogue, and Mr. Welwyn rose to lay down his cup. It was a tactical -blunder of capital magnitude. Lady Adela, left momentarily unguarded, -immediately slipped her moorings, rose to her feet, and sailed with -great stateliness in the direction of the fireplace. - -"I am going to have a chat with your dear mother," she observed -graciously to Mrs. Welwyn in passing. "Dick dear, let me have your -chair." - -Dicky, feeling that it was not for him to participate in a battle of -giants, obeyed, and Lady Adela sank down opposite Grandma Banks. -Simultaneously sounds of further disturbances penetrated from the -regions above, and a small lump of plaster fell from the ceiling. -Grandma, still intent upon a hearty and unwholesome tea, made no -acknowledgment of Lady Adela's presence until Mrs. Welwyn effected an -introduction. - -"Mother," she explained, "this is Lady Adela, Mr. Dick's mother." - -Mrs. Banks nodded curtly. - -"It is very kind of you, Mrs. Banks," intimated Lady Adela in the voice -of one who meditates producing soup-tickets later on, "to make this -special effort on our behalf. I hope we are not too much for you." - -The relict of the departed Banks poured some tea from her cup into her -saucer, took a hearty and sibilant sip, and replied:-- - -"Very few folks 'as ever bin too much for me. I 'ear as 'ow you have -come on business." - -"We told her," Mrs. Welwyn explained to Lady Adela, who was watching -Grandma's performance with the saucer with hypnotic fascination, "that -you and Mr. Mainwaring were coming to-day to have a talk about Tilly and -Mr. Dick. That is what she meant by business, I expect." - -But the explanation fell on inattentive ears. - -Lady Adela's gaze had now risen from the saucer to the ceiling, which -was vibrating madly, apparently under the repeated impact of one or more -heavy bodies. The rest of the company had given up all pretence at -conversation some time ago. - -It was Dicky who supplied a line of explanation. - -"Mrs. Welwyn," he said gravely, "your paper-hangers seem to be -skylarking a little bit--what?" - -"That's it," agreed Mrs. Welwyn, transparently grateful. "But what can -one do?" she continued, speaking with pathetic solicitude in Lady -Adela's direction. "You know what paperhangers are!" - -"A playful race! A playful race!" cooed Mr. Welwyn helpfully. - -There was another heavy bump overhead. The prism-decked chandelier -rattled, and the ceiling shed another regretful flake. - -"Sounds as if some one had tried to walk up the wall and failed," -observed Percy, with that courageous facetiousness which comes -proverbially to Britons at moments of great peril. - -"How exasperating it must be for you all, Tilly," said Sylvia -sympathetically. "I wonder you don't go and live somewhere else while -it is going on." - -Tilly, whose powers of endurance were fast coming to an end, made no -reply. Kindly Mr. Mainwaring bridged the gulf of silence. - -"It is extraordinary," he began chattily to the company at large, "how -completely one is at the mercy of the British workman. Once you get him -into your house he sticks. I suppose the title of arch-limpet must be -awarded to the plumber; but I should think the paperhanger--" - -He was interrupted by the querulous but arresting voice of Grandma -Banks. - -"What's that?" she enquired with ominous distinctness, "about plumbers?" - -"I was awarding the palm for general iniquity, dear Mrs. Banks," -explained Mr. Mainwaring smilingly, "to the plumbing fraternity. -Plumbers--" - -Mrs. Welwyn made a hasty movement, but it was too late. Grandma's bowed -and shrivelled form suddenly swelled and stiffened. - -"Ho, was you?" she enquired with rising indignation. "Then let me tell -you that my late 'usband, Mr. Josiah Banks, what was very 'ighly -respected in 'Itchin--" - -Tilly dropped two teaspoons despairingly, and there was another and more -timely bump overhead. - -"Percy dear," interposed Mrs. Welwyn hastily, "don't you think you had -better run up and see what those wretches are doing?" - -"Righto, Mother," said Percy, rising with alacrity. - -"My late 'usband--" resumed Mrs. Banks, _crescendo_. - -"It certainly is an extraordinary noise," remarked Mr. Welwyn loudly. -"They appear to be on the staircase now." - -"Sliding down the banisters, no doubt," said Dicky. "Playful little -fellows! Shall I come with you, Percy?" - -Percy Welwyn paused, a little embarrassed. - -"Don't trouble," he said. "You see--" - -He paused again--fatally. - -"My late 'usband," proclaimed Grandma Banks on the top note of her -register, "was a plumber 'imself." - -Next moment the double doors burst open, and Mr. Mehta Ram, frantic with -terror, hurled himself into the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - THE REAL TILLY - - -Mr. Mehta Ram promptly fell at the feet of Mr. Welwyn, and attempted, in -true Old Testament fashion, to embrace that embarrassed scholar and -gentleman by the knees. - -"Keep him out!" he shrieked. "Great snakes, I implore you! Lock the -door!" - -In the absence of the snakes this office was performed by Percy and -Dicky. Directly afterwards there was a rush of feet down the staircase, -and a fusilade of blows began to rain upon the panels. - -"Open the door!" commanded a voice, in a frenzied Paisley accent. "I'm -wanting in! Tae break his neck," it added in explanation. - -Dicky and Percy promptly put their backs against the door. Mrs. Welwyn -crossed hastily to her husband's side. - -"It's that Pumpherston," she announced in a low voice. "What are we to -do?" - -Mr. Welwyn addressed the suppliant at his feet. - -"Come, Mr. Mehta Ram," he said, "don't be frightened. He can't get in. -What is the trouble?" - -Mr. Mehta Ram lifted his face from Mr. Welwyn's boots and addressed the -company at large. - -"Mr. Welwyn, Mrs. Welwyn, and general public," he began--the latter -designation was apparently intended for the Mainwaring family, who, with -the exception of Dicky, had ranged themselves into a compact group on -the further side of the room--"I appeal to you as British subject--as a -member of that great Empire upon which the sun never sits--" - -"Sets, old comrade!" corrected Dicky from the door. - -"Shed your tears!" commanded Mr. Ram, disregarding the interruption. -"Give us a look in! I am in jeopardy--in a damtight place! My adversary -knocks upon the door--the avenging Pumpherston! He arraigns me of petty -larceny. He accuses me that I have confiscated his table. But I am -innocent! I make my defence! I throw myself--Ah-a-a-a-a-h! Help!" - -The other door--that leading into Mr. Welwyn's bedroom, which itself -communicated with the landing outside--burst open, and a small, -red-whiskered, and intensely ferocious gentleman bounded in. It was the -avenging Pumpherston. - -Mr. Ram bolted across the room like an obese rabbit, and took refuge -behind the hostile but protective form of Lady Adela. - -The avenger paused, obviously nonplussed by the size of the assembly. - -"I beg your paurdon," he said awkwardly. "I wis not aware--" - -He turned, to find Percy and Dicky standing beside him, one at each -shoulder. - -"We were half expecting you, Mr. Pumpherston," said Dicky, with a -friendly smile. "But if you and this gentleman are playing -hide-and-seek, the den is upstairs." - -"I beg your paurdon," repeated Mr. Pumpherston, whose bellicosity was -fast evaporating, "but yon fat heathen has robbed me. He has lifted a -piece of furniture--Heh! Let me get at him!" - -With a convulsive bound he wrenched himself free from his interlocutors -and made a dash for the door. But he was too late. Mr. Mehta Ram, -keeping under the lee of Lady Adela and the furniture, had made use of -the brief respite afforded by the recital of his assailant's grievances -to effect an unostentatious departure, and was now halfway up the -staircase again. The baffled Pumpherston followed him with a long-drawn -howl. - -"Come on, Percy!" said Dicky. - -The pair raced out in pursuit, banging the door behind them. Presently -from abovestairs came the sound of renewed conflict; a few dull thuds -and muffled crashes; and then--silence. - - ---- - -Lady Adela rose to her feet in awful majesty, and addressed the stunned -and demoralised remnants of the tea-party. - -"Is this a private asylum," she enquired in trumpet tones, "or is it -not?" - -Grandma Banks was the only member of her audience who replied. - -"My late 'usband," she whimpered--"my late 'usband, Mr. Josiah Banks! -Greatly respected in 'Itchin--greatly respec--" - -Tears coursed slowly down her furrowed cheeks. - -In a moment Tilly was kneeling beside her, with her arms round the frail -old body, whispering gently and caressingly into her ear. There was a -long silence, and Sylvia began to pull on her gloves. - -"I think we had better be going," said Lady Adela. - -"I suppose so," said Mrs. Welwyn helplessly. - -But Lucius Welwyn made a last effort. All seemed lost, yet his inherent -polish and _savoir faire_ rebelled against such an inglorious and -ignominious end as this. - -"I must apologise most sincerely for this _contretemps_, Lady Adela," he -said with a ready smile. "Those fellows are two disciples of mine. Law -students--British Museum--and so on. They come here periodically to -receive instruction from me in my library upstairs"--Lady Adela looked -up and regarded him steadily, but he continued with perfect -coolness--"but I fear that on this occasion racial animosity has proved -stronger than academic unity of purpose. You will understand, I am -sure." - -"Perfectly," replied Lady Adela. "Come, Sylvia." - -Sylvia was quite ready, but at this moment the door flew open once more, -and Dicky and Percy reappeared, flushed, panting, but triumphant. - -"It's all right, Mrs. Welwyn," announced Dicky reassuringly. "The -brunette gentleman has bolted himself into the bathroom, and we have -locked up the blonde in a broom-cupboard. Hallo, Mum--going?" - -"Yes. Come, Sylvia." - -"Certainly, Mother," said Sylvia. - -Dicky's ear caught the danger-note in his sister's voice. He stood -transfixed, with dismay written across his frank but heated features. - -"I say," he stammered. "Mum--Sylvia--what does all this mean?" - -"Good-bye, Mrs. Welwyn," said Lady Adela calmly. "Thank you -for--ah--entertaining us. I suppose one can get a cab here?" - -She shook Mrs. Welwyn's nerveless hand and turned to Mr. Mainwaring, who -stood awkwardly smoothing his hat. - -"Are you ready, Abel?" she enquired. - -Suddenly Tilly Welwyn rose from her knees by her grandmother's side, -and, to employ a dramatic expression, took the centre of the stage. She -stood face to face with her departing guests, her head thrown back and -her hands clenched--a very slim, very upright, very dignified little -figure. - -"Sit down, please, everybody, if you will be so kind," she said quietly. -"I shan't keep you long." - -Lady Adela, looking like a boa-constrictor which has been challenged to -mortal combat by a small and inexperienced chicken, stood stockstill, -with her head oscillating from side to side in a slightly uncertain -fashion. Then, recovering herself, she fell back in good order upon her -supporters. - -The Welwyns, closing loyally upon their small champion, spoke in anxious -undertones. - -"Don't chuck up the sponge, Sis," whispered Percy encouragingly. "We'll -pull you through." - -"Don't lose your head, my child," counselled her father. "You may make -things worse." - -"Tilly, dearie, can you ever forgive me?" was all Mrs. Welwyn said. She -forgot, in her selfless grief for the destruction of her daughter's -castle-in-the-air, that she herself had predicted its fall. - -Little 'Melia said nothing, but passionately squeezed her sister's hand. - -"You are all dears," said Tilly in a clear voice, "and I love you for -the way you have stood by me to-day; but I want to speak to the others -just now." - -She took a step forward towards the Mainwarings, who were grouped beside -the tea-table. But before she could speak, Dicky, who had been hovering -silently on the outer wing of his own party, crossed the floor and -joined her. - -"I'll come and stand over here, Tilly," he said, "if you don't mind. -There's a nasty draught in that corner." - -Tilly smiled faintly. - -"I would rather you did n't," she said, with the suspicion of a tremor -in her voice. "Please go over there." - -Dicky responded by standing-at-ease, military fashion. - -"Carry on," he said briefly. - -"Please, Dicky!" urged Tilly, "It only makes it harder for me." - -Dicky glanced at her white face, and retired one pace backward. - -"That is my limit," he said. - -Meanwhile Lady Adela had come to the conclusion that all this was very -emotional and undignified. - -"Miss Welwyn," she enquired, "what does this mean?" - -"I will tell you," said Tilly. "But first of all I must say one thing. -I did not try to trap your son, as you seem to think. We fell--we came -to care for one another quite naturally. I made no attempt to catch -him. I knew nothing whatever about him. It--it just happened." She -turned wistfully to Dicky. "Did n't it?" she asked. - -Dicky nodded his head gravely. - -"It just happened," he said. - -"And since we cared for one another--or thought we did"--continued Tilly -with a little choke, "it never came into my head that anything else -could matter. But last Saturday, when I went to stay at your house, and -saw your grand ways and your grand servants, and all the commotion you -made about Members of Parliament, and county families, and all -that--well, I began to see rocks ahead. I felt common. My courage -began to fail. I began to be afraid that you would not take kindly to -the Family--" - -"It was n't you that was afraid, dearie," said a respectful voice behind -her. "It was the Family." - -"I saw, too, Lady Adela," continued Tilly, "that _you_ were against -me--dead against me--and that as soon as you got hold of a decent-excuse -I should be bundled out of your son's life, like--like an entanglement. -That put my back up. I had meant to be perfectly straight and -unpretentious with you, but when I saw what you were after, I determined -to fight. So I have deceived you." - -"We all have," murmured a loyal chorus. - -"You have been _done_!" proclaimed Tilly defiantly. She was fast losing -control of herself. She felt dimly that she was behaving in an -hysterical and theatrical manner; but when one's world is tumbling about -one's ears, one may be excused for stating the truth rather more -explicitly than is usual. "Yes--_done_!" she repeated. "I will tell -you just exactly who we are and what we are. Father is a gentleman, -right enough"--her voice rang out proudly--"as well-born a gentleman as -any of the land; but he has followed no regular profession for twenty -years, and he lives on Mother. Mother keeps lodgings. This house is a -lodging-house, and those two men you saw were lodgers. Percy works in a -wholesale haberdasher's in Holborn. I do a little dress-designing. -'Melia helps Mother with the lodgers. So you see you have been imposed -on: we work for a living! But you must n't blame the Family for what -has happened. It was my idea from start to finish: the Family only -backed me up. And they did back me up! No girl ever had such a -splendid father or mother, or brother or sister." Tilly stepped back -into the heart of her bodyguard, feeling for friendly hands. "I 'm -proud of them," she cried passionately, "proud to belong to them! I'm -proud that my name is Tilly Welwyn, and I never wish to change it for -any other. We Welwyns may be nobodies but we stick together. There! -You may go now." - -The drawing-room door creaked and opened, but no one noticed. - -"I have told you everything, I think," said Tilly, more calmly. "I know -now that I should have told you in any case. That's all.... No, it's -not." - -She swung round towards the doorway, and pointed to the grotesque figure -of that earnest student of the drama, Samuel Stillbottle, who was -myopically deciphering a small but tattered document, all but concealed -in the palm of his hand. - -"We're paupers!" she cried. "We're in debt! We're broke! There's a -distraint on the furniture; and that creature"--Mr. Stillbottle, hazily -conscious that a cue was coming, furtively thrust his manuscript into -his waistcoat pocket--"that creature is a broker's man! Oh, Mother, -Mother, Mother!" - -In an instant Martha Welwyn's arms closed round her daughter. - -"There, there!" she crooned. "My lamb, my pretty, my precious, my -dearie--don't you cry!" - -There was a deathlike stillness, broken only by Tilly's sobs. The -Mainwarings stood like statues. Mr. Welwyn sat on the sofa, his head -bowed between his hands. Grandma Banks slumbered peacefully. The -bewildered but conscientious Stillbottle seized his opportunity, and -cleared his throat. - -"The shover, sir," he announced huskily, "is below, a-waitin' for--" - -Next moment a hand like a vice closed upon the herald's collar, and -Dicky Mainwaring's voice remarked concisely into his ear:-- - -"Go to the devil." - -Mr. Stillbottle, utterly dazed, raised his head and surveyed the -company. Then he smiled apologetically. - -"Wrong entrance," he observed. "My error! _Exit hastily!_" - -He turned, and shuffled out. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - THE REAL MR. WELWYN - - - "_There is an evenin' paper--_" - -quavered Mr. Stillbottle blithely, with his feet upon the kitchen hob,-- - - --"_which is published in the mornin'!_ - _Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little Star!_" - - -He unfolded the early edition of the organ in question and devoted -himself to a laboured perusal of the list of probable starters for the -Lincolnshire Handicap, now looming in the immediate future; for he was -anxious to ascertain whether his premonitions as to the identity of the -winner coincided with those of the prophet retained by the management. -Apparently they did; for presently the paper was laid aside with a -contented sigh, and the student of form resumed the hoary lay which -anxiety connected with the investment of his newly acquired capital had -caused him momentarily to abandon. - - "_Twinkle, Star!_ - _Tiddley Wink!_ - _Twinkle on till you dunno where you are!_ - _Oh, we 'll make things warm for 'Arcourt,_ - If 'e ever comes down our court!* - _Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little St--_" - - -Conscious of a draught upon the back of his neck, the vocalist turned -uneasily in the direction of the door. It had opened some six inches, -revealing to view a pair of cherubic heads, set one above the other. -Each head was furnished with a pair of quite circular blue eyes, which -surveyed Mr. Stillbottle, with unwinking and unnerving ecstasy. - -"The Funny Man!" proclaimed The Cure joyously. - -"Yesh," agreed The Caution. "Lesh box him." - -The pair entered the room hand in hand, and advanced grimly to the -attack. - -Mr. Stillbottle hastily removed his feet from the hob. - -"You two," he announced, "can get on out of this. I ain't never done -you no 'arm, 'ave I?" he added appealingly; "so why---" - -At this point The Caution dealt him a playful but disabling blow in the -waistcoat. The Cure, with a shriek of rapture, seized Mr. Stillbottle's -frayed coat by the tails and whirled its owner round three times upon -his axis. - -"Now catch me!" she shrieked. - -"If I _do_--" gasped Mr. Stillbottle, clutching dizzily at the -mantelpiece. Further words failed him, and entrenching himself behind a -table, he waited like a hunted animal for the further assaults of his -enemies. - -He was not kept long in suspense. Having armed themselves with the -fire-irons, the two affectionate but boisterous infants were upon the -point of inaugurating a game of what they called "beat-the-carpet"--it -is hardly necessary to specify the rôle assigned to Mr. -Stillbottle--when the door opened, revealing the welcome figure of Dicky -Mainwaring. - -Straightway weapons were thrown down, and the newcomer found himself the -centre of a cloud of embraces. Dicky was a prime favourite with -children and dogs--no bad test of character, either. - -Presently, having shaken himself free from the unmaidenly caresses of -the youngest Miss Welwyn, Dicky became aware of the pathetic presence of -Mr. Stillbottle. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Russell," he said. "You are just the man I want to -see." - -"You can see me as often and as long as you like, sir," replied the -afflicted Russell fervently, "if only you'll put those two imps on the -other side of that door." - -"Certainly," said Dicky. "Now you two, skedaddle!" - -To the amazement and admiration of their late victim the two freebooters -departed immediately, merely pausing to receive a valedictory salute -from their evictor. Dicky closed the door upon them, and motioning the -broker's man to a chair, enquired:-- - -"Where is everybody this morning, Mr. Russell?" - -"My name, in mufti, to my friends," replied the grateful Russell, "is -Stillbottle. But you was asking about 'everybody.' Meanin' the -Barcelona Troupe of Performing Nuts?" - -Dicky nodded. - -"Upstairs, most of 'em," said Stillbottle. "All but your little bit. -She 'as gone out." - -Dicky looked up sharply. - -"For long?" he asked. - -"I could n't say," replied the broker's man. "Perce has gone to the -City. Mother and the little 'un are a-makin' of the beds. The -Principal Filbert is still between the sheets. I'm the only member of -the cast visible at present. But as you say it's me you came to see, -perhaps you'll kindly state your business." - -Dicky did so. - -A quarter of an hour later he ascended to the drawing-room, restored to -its usual aspect of dingy propriety after yesterday's junketings. He -noticed that his carnations had disappeared. - -Mr. Welwyn was just entering from his bedroom. At the sight of Dicky he -started, but recovering himself with his usual readiness, shook hands. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Mainwaring," he said. "Be seated." - -Dicky complied. "You seem surprised to see me, sir," he said. - -"Frankly," replied Mr. Welwyn, "I am. After our treatment of you -yesterday I hardly expected you to return. I can only extenuate our -performance by assuring you that what looked like a carefully graduated -series of insults was nothing more than the logical, if unforeseen, -development of a somewhat childish attempt upon our part to delude your -family into the impression that our circumstances were not so straitened -as, in point of fact, they are. We meant well, but--" - -Mr. Welwyn concluded this explanation with a rather helpless gesture. -It was an awkward and difficult moment. With all his faults he was a -man of feeling, with a gentleman's inherent distaste for anything -savouring of sharp practice; and he knew that the boy before him felt -the situation as acutely as himself. There are few sadder sights than -that of an old man eating humble pie to a young man. - -But Dicky, The Freak, was equal to the occasion. He answered gravely:-- - -"The point of view which I prefer to take, Mr. Welwyn, is this--that you -were all trying to do a good turn to Tilly." - -"Thank you, Dick," said Mr. Welwyn simply. "Still, there was a second -reason which I thought might perhaps keep you away." - -"What was that?" - -"Well--the presence in one's abode of a sheriff's officer is apt to -exercise a dispersive influence upon one's calling acquaintance." - -"On this occasion, however," replied Dicky serenely, "you will find that -a calling acquaintance has dispersed the sheriff's officer." - -Mr. Welwyn, who had been perambulating the room, stopped dead. - -"You don't mean to tell me," he exclaimed, "that the fellow is gone?" - -Dicky nodded. "Five minutes ago," he said. - -"But--I don't understand," muttered the elder man. "Did you _kick_ him -out? If so, the fat is in the fire with a--" - -"He left this behind him," interposed Dicky awkwardly. "Under the -circumstances--I took the liberty." - -Mr. Welwyn gazed long and silently at the stamped document which lay -beneath his eyes. Then he looked up at Dicky and made a movement as if -to shake hands; then drew back and bowed, not without dignity. - -"Mr. Mainwaring," he said, "I thank you. I will leave it at that. If I -possessed a less intimate knowledge of my own character, I should hasten -to give utterance to the sentiment which at this moment dominates my -mind--namely, a sincere determination never to rest until I have repaid -you this sum. But I have not arrived at my present estate without -learning that any such impulse on my part would be entirely transitory. -From the age of five I can never recollect having formed a single -resolution that I was able to keep. I therefore accept your very -generous aid without protest or false pride. My wife, of course, would -not approve. She comes of a class whose sole criterion of -respectability is a laborious solvency during life and an expensive -funeral after death. Do not imagine that I am belittling her. She is -the one sound investment I ever made. I need not trouble you with the -facts of our courtship and marriage; but I will tell you this, my boy, -that if a man had real cause to be grateful for and proud of his wife, -that man is Lucius Welwyn. And the extraordinary part of it all is that -she is proud of me--_me_! Instead of acting like a sensible woman and -deploring me as a commercial and domestic liability, she persists in -exalting me into a social asset of the first water. I do not attempt to -dispel these illusions of hers. In a woman's hands an illusion, after -she has fashioned it to the shape that pleases her, hardens into a -solid, enduring, and comforting fact. Perhaps, then, things are best as -they are. But I cherish no illusions about myself. I know my limits. -I am a considerate husband and an affectionate father. My temper, -except at times of the severest domestic stringency, is irreproachable; -and I find myself generally regarded as good company by my friends. But -I am not a worldly success. I take life too easily, perhaps. I allow -others to step over my head. I am too ready to stand by and watch the -passing show, rather than plunge in and take my part." - -The speaker paused, and for a moment his glance rested upon the honest, -rather puzzled, but deeply interested eyes of the young man upon the -sofa. Suddenly an exposition of candour came upon Mr. Welwyn. - -"There was a time," he said in a less buoyant tone, "when these -propensities of mine used to distress me. The day I was deprived of my -Fellowship, for instance--" - -His voice shook suddenly. - -"Don't tell me about it, sir, if you would rather not," said Dicky -quietly. - -"For drunkenness, Mr. Mainwaring--for drunkenness!" burst out Mr. -Welwyn. "Not for chronic, sordid soaking--that has never been a foible -of mine--but for characteristic inability to do things in their right -order. Take warning by me, Dick, and never put the cart before the -horse. I had been invited to lecture to a very learned body upon a very -special occasion. A successful appearance would have gained me my -F.R.S. The natural and proper course for me to pursue was to deliver -the lecture first and treat myself to a magnum of champagne afterwards. -What I actually did was to treat myself to the magnum of champagne and -then deliver the lecture. I may say with all modesty that that lecture -caused a profound sensation. It is still quoted--but not in textbooks; -and it ended my University career. My life since has been a series of -similar incidents--disaster arising from my inherent inability to -distinguish between the time to be merry and the time to sing psalms. -Still, I keep on smiling. Fortune has not touched me for many years now. -Fortune likes fresh blood: once you get used to her she leaves you -alone. You see the manner of man I now am--a seasoned philosopher--a -man who takes life as it comes--a man who never meets trouble halfway--a -man unburdened by the sentimental craving, so prevalent in this -hysterical age, to confer unsolicited benefits upon his fellows--a man -unhampered at the same time by narrow scruples about accepting, in the -spirit in which it is offered, the occasional assistance of his friends. -In short, a sane, dispassionate, evenly balanced man of the world, -insured against sudden upheaval by a sense of proportion, and against -depression of spirits by a sense of humour." - -Mr. Welwyn paused again, and there was another silence, punctuated by -the rattle of traffic outside. Presently he continued, in yet another -mood:-- - -"Sometimes my point of view changes. I look at myself, and what do I -see? An elderly, shabby-genteel inhabitant of Bloomsbury, with not a -single memory of the past to fall back on, save that of a youth utterly -wasted--a youth hung about with golden opportunities, each and all -successively disregarded from a fatuous, childish belief that the supply -was inexhaustible--and with nothing to look forward to but a further -period of dependence upon a wife who is as much my moral superior as she -is my social inferior. An earner of casual guineas--a picker-up of -stray newspapers--the recipient of refreshment respectfully proffered by -unintellectual but infinitely more worthy associates in bar parlours. A -loafer--a waster--a _failure_! That, Mr. Mainwaring, is the father of -the girl whom you desire to marry.... I am not what you would call -religious, but sometimes the impulse comes upon me--and I obey it -forthwith--to go down upon my knees and thank God from the bottom of my -heart that my children take after their mother." - -The broken scholar dropped wearily into his chair. - -"Youth! Youth! Youth! Youth!" he murmured. "Rejoice, O young man, in -thy youth!" - -His head slipped down between his hands. - -Dicky, curiously stirred, attempted to say some word, but nothing came. - -Suddenly Mr. Welwyn sprang to his feet. The cloud had lifted, or else -pride had come to the rescue. It is often difficult to tell which. - -"Dick," he said, "I perceive from your attitude that you are about to be -sympathetic. Don't! Sympathy is wasted on me. In five minutes from now -this mood will have passed. In half an hour I shall be as happy as an -ostrich with its head in the sand. That has been my lifelong posture, -and a very comfortable posture, too, once you get used to it! It is -only when one comes up to breathe that things hurt a bit. Now, if you -will excuse me, I must go out. I have had a letter this morning -offering me some exceedingly welcome and possibly permanent work. I do -not know where Tilly is, but she should be in presently. I do not ask -what your business with her may be. I have no right--and no need." - -The two men shook hands. - -"Good-bye, dear Dick," said Mr. Welwyn, "and thank you for the very -unobtrusive manner in which you have helped a lame dog over a stile." - -Next moment the door closed, and he was gone. - -"We are queer mixtures," mused philosophic Dicky.... "I wonder where -Tilly is!" - - ---- - -Five minutes later the drawing-room door opened again, this time to -admit little 'Melia. She paused and drew back, at the spectacle of her -late ally sprawling at ease before the scanty fire. - -"Hallo, 'Melia!" said Dicky cheerfully. - -"Hallo!" replied Amelia cautiously. "Have you come to--see mother?" - -"Not to-day, thank you," said Dicky. He regarded the little girl -curiously. "I say, 'Melia, have I offended you in any way?" - -"You? Me? No!" replied Amelia, in wide-eyed surprise. "Why?" - -Dicky smiled coyly. - -"There used to be a pleasant little form of greeting," he intimated. - -"You still want to?" cried 'Melia in a flutter. - -"Please." - -Next moment Miss Amelia Welwyn, feeling that the bottom had not dropped -out of the universe after all, was giving Mr. Richard Mainwaring a kiss. - -"Where is Tilly this morning?" asked Dicky carelessly. - -"Gone out," said Amelia--"to look for a job. She gave up the other one -when she got--engaged." - -"I see," said Dicky, nodding his head. - -"I suppose you have come to break it off," continued the experienced -Amelia. "They all said last night you were bound to do it, after what -had happened." - -"That sort of thing," explained Dicky, "is done for one by one's -parents, I believe. I am rather young, you see," he added -apologetically. - -He rose, gently displacing his small admirer from his knee. - -"Now I must be off," he said. "Give this to Tilly for me, will you?" - -Amelia was still twisting and turning the letter in her hands when the -bang of the front door signalled Dicky's departure. - -"If his parents are going to break it off for him," said Amelia to -herself in a puzzled whisper, "what does he want to go writing to her -for?" - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - A GARDEN PLOT IN RUSSELL SQUARE - - -Outside, leaning contentedly against the railings of the garden opposite -to the Maison Welwyn, and enjoying the spring sunshine, Dicky -encountered the Carmyles. - -"Hallo, you two!" he said. "What are you doing here? Liable to get run -in for loitering, hanging about like this." - -"We have followed you, Dicky," began Connie rapidly, "to tell you that -your mother is coming up to town, and--" - -"Mother--already?" - -Connie nodded. - -"Fourth speed in," confirmed Mr. Carmyle. "Live axle--direct drive--open -exhaust." - -"Trailing your father behind her," added Connie. "I understand you had -an interview with them this morning." - -The Freak gave a wry smile. - -"I did," he said. "It was rather a heated interview, I'm afraid. Words -passed. But we can't stand here dodging taxis. Come into the garden, -Maud!" - -"Don't we require a key?" enquired the re-christened Connie, surveying -the iron railings which enclosed the Bloomsbury Eden. - -"I have one," said Dicky. "It belongs to the Welwyns. Tilly and I used -to use it a good deal," he explained, in a subdued voice. - -He led the way into the dingy but romantic pleasance which had sheltered -himself and his beloved, and the trio sat down upon a damp seat. Mrs. -Carmyle, looking rather like one of the sparrows which hopped -inquisitively about her daintily shod feet, established herself between -her two large companions. Her husband, who was a creature of homely -instincts, hung his silk hat upon an adjacent bough with a sigh of -content, and began to fill a large briar pipe. Dicky, a prey to -melancholy, kicked the grass with his heels. - -"Where is Tilly this morning?" asked Connie. - -"Gone out--to look for a job!" replied Dicky through his clenched teeth. -"Just as if a snug home and the life of a lady were things she had never -dreamed of!" His eyes blazed. "Great Heavens, Connie--the pluck of the -child! What a brute it makes me feel!" - -Connie patted his hand maternally, but said nothing. There was nothing -to say. Presently Dicky continued, in a more even voice:-- - -"So my mother is coming up this morning--to strike while the iron is -hot--eh?" - -"'To make a direct appeal to Miss Welwyn's better nature,' was what she -_said_," replied Mrs. Carmyle cautiously. - -"I am afraid there will be a bit of a scrap," said Dicky thoughtfully. -"My dear mother's normal attitude towards her fellow-creatures is that -of a righteous person compelled to travel third-class with a first-class -ticket; but when she goes on the warpath into the bargain--well, that is -where I take cover." - -"She'll roll the Welwyns out flat," observed Mr. Carmyle, with that -conviction which only painful experience can instill. - -"She won't roll Tilly out flat," said Dicky. - -"Nor Mrs. Welwyn either," added Connie; "so kindly refrain from putting -in your oar, Bill! We are n't all terrified of Lady Adela. _Cowardy, -cowardy, cus--_" - -Mr. Carmyle, flushing with shame, abruptly invited his small oppressor -to switch off; and Dicky proceeded to review the situation. - -"I don't think my dear parent will get much change out of any of the -Welwyns," he said. "They are a fairly competent lot. Moreover, they -have burned their boats and have nothing to lose; so I expect there will -be some very pretty work. My lady mother is an undoubted champion in -her class, I admit, but she has got a bit out of condition lately. -Managing Dad and harrying the County are n't really sufficient to keep a -woman of her fighting-weight up to the mark. Still, I don't particularly -want her big guns let loose on Tilly." - -"Tilly has gone out for the day, I suppose?" said Connie. - -"So I was told. But how did you guess?" - -Connie Carmyle flapped her small hands despairingly. - -"Oh, what creatures!" she cried, apparently apostrophising the male sex -in general. "Can't you understand anything or anybody--not even the -girl you love? Of course, she is out for the day; and if you go there -to-morrow she will be out for the day, too!" - -"Why?" asked Dicky blankly. - -"Yes--why?" echoed that sympathetic but obtuse Philistine, Bill Carmyle. - -His wife turned upon him like lightning. - -"Bill," she said, "keep perfectly quiet, or I shall send you off to meet -Lady Adela's train at Waterloo! I want to talk to Dicky. Now, Dicky, -listen to me. That little girl"--Connie's eyes grew suddenly tender, -for she loved her sex--"cares for you, old man--quite a lot. Quite -enough, in fact, to draw back if she thinks she is going to stand in -your way during life. That pathetic little fraud of a tea-party -yesterday has set her thinking. She has suddenly realised that although -she might _get_ you by false pretences, she could not _keep_ you by -false pretences--nor want to. She has also realised that her Family are -impossible. That means that she will have to give up either you or the -Family. And you are the one she will give up, Dicky. She loves you too -much to pull you down to their level. She won't give that as her -reason--women are built like that--but she will give you up, all the -same." - -The usually placid Dicky had grown excessively agitated during this -homily. - -"Connie," he burst out, "for goodness' sake don't try to frighten me -like that! Tilly's Family are not impossible. They 're only a bit -improbable. And besides, talking of impossible families, look at mine! -Do you know who my grandfather was? He was a Lancashire cotton -operative--a hand in a mill. He invented something--a shuttle, or a -bobbin, or something of that kind--and made a fortune out of it. He -ultimately died worth a hundred thousand pounds; but to the end of his -days he dined without his coat, and, if he could possibly escape -detection, without his collar either. I never saw him, but my Dad says -he was a dear old chap, and I can quite believe it. As a father-in-law -he was a sore trial to my poor mother, whose ancestors had worn their -collars at meals for quite a considerable period; but the hundred -thousand overcame her susceptibilities in the end, and she and Dad have -lived happily ever since." - -Dicky rose restlessly to his feet, and continued his address standing. - -"Now I think," he said, "that we can set my grandfather, cotton -operative, against the late lamented Banks, plumber and gas-fitter. -Banks, of course, was the bigger man socially--you know how plumbers get -asked simply _everywhere_--but Mainwaring's son married the daughter of -an Earl; so we will call them quits. Anyway, Tilly is quite as good as -I am--miles better, in fact." - -"Dear Dicky!" murmured Connie approvingly. Here was a lover of the right -metal. - -"What about friend Perce?" enquired a gruff voice. - -It was a telling question. If Dicky could clothe such an uncompromising -fact as Percy Welwyn in a garment of romance, he was capable of making a -success of any marriage. Mr. Carmyle waited grimly for his answer. - -"Ah--Percy!" replied Dicky thoughtfully. "Yes, Tiny, old soul, that's a -sound question. Well, Percy is n't exactly polished--in fact, one might -almost be forgiven for describing him as a holy terror--" - -"He wants losing," said Carmyle with conviction. - -"But listen," pursued Dicky. "Percy may be all we say, but he -cheerfully hands over half his weekly screw, which is n't a fabulous -one, to the common fund of the Family. It is not every young man who -would do that, especially such a social success as Percy. Oh, yes, -Connie, he is a social success; so don't look incredulous. I tell you -he is a regular Apollo at shilling hops. He took me to one a few weeks -ago." - -"Where?" asked Connie. - -"Somewhere near Kennington Oval. The girls simply swarmed over him. -But he is not in the least stuck up about it; and--well, he is kind to -Tilly. I am, therefore," concluded Dicky stoutly, "an upholder of -Percy." - -Mr. Carmyle, encouraged by the silence of his wife, felt emboldened to -continue his cross-examination. - -"What about mother-in-law?" he queried. - -It was a foolish question. - -"She is a woman in a thousand," said Dicky promptly, and Mrs. Carmyle, -with a withering side-glance at her unfortunate lord, nodded her head -vigorously in affirmation. - -"Mrs. Welwyn is not what we call a lady," proceeded Dicky, "but she is -the right stuff all through. I admit that she has not been quite -successful in her efforts to polish Percy, but look at the others! The -little sister, 'Melia, is a dear. The twins are rippers. Old -Welwyn--well, he's a rotter, but he's a gentlemanly rotter; which pretty -well describes the majority of my friends, now I come to think of it. -And he is no hypocrite: he is quite frank about his weaknesses. Now, to -sum up. On her father's side Tilly is a lady; on her mother's side she -is a brick. That's a pretty good combination. Anyhow, it's good enough -for me; and if she'll have me I'm going to marry her." - -Dicky concluded the unburdening of his soul with a shout and a wave of -his hat, and all the sparrows flew away. - -"Now," said Connie, patting the seat in a soothing fashion, "sit down -and tell me how you are going to do it." - -Dicky resumed his place beside her and said meekly:-- - -"I'm looking to you to tell me that, Connie." - -Apparently he had made the remark that was expected of him, for Connie -immediately assumed a little air of profound wisdom, and her -unregenerate husband emitted an unseemly gurgle. - -"Your first difficulty, of course," she said to Dicky, ignoring her -wretched and ill-controlled spouse, "will be to see Tilly. After the -humiliation of yesterday her only instinct will be to hide herself. She -will be not-at-home to you every time you call; and of course, it is n't -fair that you should hang about in the hopes of catching her outside." - -"No," agreed Dicky. "Not the game." - -"You have written to her, I suppose?" said Connie. - -"Yes. Left a note this morning," replied Dicky, brightening up. - -"Well, of course, that is no use. It will make her happier, poor little -soul, but it won't change her decision. Letters never do. You've -simply got to see her, Dicky! Bill, run away for a minute, there's a -dear. Go and think about a cantilever, or something, over there." - -Mr. Carmyle, puffing smoke, obediently withdrew to the other side of a -clump of sooty rhododendrons. Connie turned eagerly to Dicky. Her face -was flushed and eager, like a child's. - -"Dicky," she whispered earnestly, "_see_ her! _See_ her! See her alone! -Take her in your arms and tell her that you will never, never, never let -her go! She will struggle and try to break away; but hold on. Hold on -tight! Go on telling her that you love her and will never leave her. -When she sees that you mean it, she will give in. I know. I'm a woman, -and I know!" Connie squeezed Dicky's arm violently. "I _know_!" she -repeated.... "You can come back now, Bill dear." - -"Nice goings-on, I don't think," observed Mr. Carmyle severely, -reappearing round the rhododendron. "Shouting all over the -garden--what?" - -But the two conspirators, still in the clouds together, took no notice -of him. Instead, Connie rose to her feet and began to walk towards the -nearest gate. The two men followed. - -"Connie, how am I going to do it?" asked Dicky deferentially. - -"I have a plan," replied Connie, with portentous solemnity. She was -launched on an enterprise after her own heart. "Listen! Have you a -portmanteau?" - -"Yes, at my rooms." - -"Well, go there and pack it." - -"Why?" asked Dicky in a dazed voice. - -Mrs. Carmyle replied by quoting a famous and oracular phrase which had -lately fallen from the lips of a prominent statesman, and the party -reached the railings. - -"Hallo, there's a taxi at the Welwyns' door," said Carmyle. "I -wonder--oh, Lord!" - -He fell hastily to the rear, his knees knocking together. Two figures -were ascending the steps of the house. One was majestic and purposeful; -the other small and reluctant. The front door opened and closed upon -them. - -"My mother--already!" exclaimed Dicky in dismay. - -That burned child, William Carmyle, broke into a gentle perspiration. - -"Never mind," said Connie reassuringly. "She was bound to come. She -can't do any harm." - -"Supposing she gets Tilly to agree never to see me again?" said Dicky -feverishly. "Supposing she insults her with money?" He ground his -teeth, and Carmyle groaned sympathetically. - -Connie patted his arm soothingly. - -"The last word is the only thing that matters in this case," she said -with great confidence; "and you are going to have that, Dicky, my -friend. Now, run away and pack your portmanteau. Then come and lunch -with us at Prince's. I must fly. I have an appointment with a gentleman -at Russell Square Tube Station at twelve-thirty. It is after that now." - -Dicky glanced at Bill Carmyle for an explanation of this mysterious -assignation, but that gentleman merely shook his head in a bewildered -fashion. - -"Don't ask me, old man," he said. - -"Who is the gentleman, Connie?" Dicky enquired. - -"An admirer of mine," replied Mrs. Carmyle, with a gratified smile. "I -met him in the train this morning." - -"For the first time?" - -"No--second. When I saw him I had an idea, so we arranged to meet again -at twelve-thirty. He has another engagement, but he said it did n't -matter when I asked him. After he has done what I want, he is coming to -lunch, too. Now run and pack. Au revoir!" - -Revelling in every turn of the highly complicated plot which she was -weaving, little Mrs. Carmyle, followed by her inarticulate but inflated -husband, pattered swiftly away round the corner--and incidentally out of -this narrative--turning to wave a reassuring hand to her client before -disappearing. - -The Freak, puzzled but confident, went home to pack his portmanteau. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - PURELY COMMERCIAL - - - I - - -"Well," said Mrs. Welwyn, taking off her apron, "the beds are done, -anyway. One less to make," she added philosophically, "now that -Pumpherston has hopped it. That's something." - -"We could do with the rent of his room for all that, Mother," commented -practical Amelia. - -"That's true, dearie," sighed Mrs. Welwyn. "Well, perhaps we shall get -another lodger. Where's your father, by the way?" - -"He went out half an hour ago. I expect he's at the Museum." - -"Did Mr. Dick see him?" - -"I don't know." - -"And Mr. Dick said he did n't want to see me?" Mrs. Welwyn spoke rather -wistfully. - -"That was what he said," admitted 'Melia in a respectful tone. - -"I don't suppose he's very anxious to see any of us much," said Mrs. -Welwyn candidly. "We must just get the idea out of our heads, that's -all. Forget it! Then, there's that broker's insect. We are going to -get _him_ paid off double-quick, or I 'm a Dutchman. I don't know how -it's going to be done. Still, we have got round worse corners than -this, have n't we, duckie?" - -"Yes, Mother," said Amelia bravely. - -Martha Welwyn suddenly flung her arms round her little daughter. - -"My precious," she whispered impulsively, "I would n't mind if it was -n't for you children." Her voice broke. "God pity women!" - -"Mother, Mother!" cried little 'Melia reprovingly. "That's not like -you!" And she hugged her tearful but contrite parent back to -cheerfulness again. - -A door banged downstairs, and the two fell apart guiltily. - -"That's Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn. "We must n't be downhearted, or -she'll scold us. Bustle about!" - -With great vigour and presence of mind this excellent woman snatched the -cloth off the table and shook it severely. Amelia, having hastily -removed a tear from her mother's cheek with a duster, opened the piano -and began to wipe down the keys, to the accompaniment of an inharmonious -chromatic scale. - -The door flew open and Tilly marched in, humming a cheerful air. - -"Such luck, Mother!" she cried. - -For a moment Martha Welwyn was deceived. She whirled round excitedly. - -"What do you mean, dearie?" she exclaimed. - -"I've got a berth--with Madame Amelie--old Mrs. Crump, you know--in -Earl's Court Road. One of her girls is leaving--" - -"Got the sack?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, rearranging the tablecloth. - -"No. She's only"--Tilly's voice quavered ever so slightly--"going to be -married. I've got her place, and I 'm once more an independent lady." - -"That's capital news, Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn heartily. At any rate, -her daughter would have something to occupy her mind. - -"Now the next thing to do," proceeded Tilly with great animation, "is to -get rid of the broker's man. We ought to be able to raise the money all -right. I'm at work again. Dad has had an offer of newspaper articles; -and if only we can get Mr. Pumpherston's room let--" - -"The broker's man has gone, Sis," said Amelia. - -"Gone?" cried Tilly and Mrs. Welwyn in a breath. - -"Well, gone out, anyhow. I saw him shuffling across the Square half an -hour ago." - -"My lord will find the chain up when he comes back," said Mrs. Welwyn -grimly. - -"Still, we must find the money," persisted Tilly. "We have never been -in debt yet, and we are never going to be." Her slight figure stiffened -proudly. "Independence! That's the only thing worth having in this -world. Be independent! Owe nothing to nobody!" - -Certainly, whether she derived it from her father's ancestry or her -mother's solid worth, Tilly Welwyn was composed of good fibre. With -flushed cheeks and unnaturally bright eyes she turned to the mirror over -the drawing-room mantelpiece and began to take off her hat. - -"It's a mystery to me," ruminated the puzzled Mrs. Welwyn, "why that -creature went out. He must have known we would n't let him in again." - -"Perhaps Dicky kicked him out," suggested that small hero-worshipper, -Amelia, with relish. - -Tilly turned sharply. - -"Who?" she asked. A hatpin tinkled into the fender. - -Little 'Melia bit her lip, and turned scarlet. - -"Mr. Dick, dearie," said Mrs. Welwyn, coming to the rescue. "He looked -in this morning." - -"What for?" asked Tilly, groping for the hatpin. - -"I don't know. I did n't see him," admitted her mother reluctantly. - -"I do," said 'Melia, having decided to get things over at once. "He -left a letter for you, Sis." - -Tilly rose to her feet again, keeping her back to her audience. - -"Where is it?" she enquired unsteadily. - -"Here," said Amelia, with a hand in the pocket of her pinafore. - -"Put it on the table," said Tilly, standing on tiptoe while she patted -her brown hair into position before the glass. "I'll read it -presently." - -"There's the front-door bell!" said Mrs. Welwyn nervously. "What are we -to do if it's Russell again?" - -"Lock the door," said Amelia promptly. - -"I don't know, I'm sure," said Mrs. Welwyn doubtfully. "I wonder what -the law is. I wish Daddy was in." She considered, perplexed. "Anyhow, -I'll go down and see. Come with me, 'Melia," she added tactfully. - -The pair slipped out of the room and went downstairs, leaving Tilly -alone with her letter. - -"Supposing he rushes in the moment we open the door?" whispered Amelia, -as they consulted on the mat. "What then?" - -"We'll put the chain up first, and then open the door a crack," said -Mrs. Welwyn. - -This procedure was adopted, with the result that Mr. Mainwaring and Lady -Adela, waiting patiently upon the steps outside, were eventually -confronted, after certain mysterious clankings had taken place within, -with a vision of two apprehensive countenances, one childish and the -other middle-aged, set one upon another against a black background in a -frame eight feet high and three inches wide. It was but a glimpse, for -the vision was hardly embodied when it faded from view with uncanny -suddenness: and after a further fantasia upon the chain, the door was -tugged open, to reveal the shrinking figures of Mrs. Welwyn and Amelia. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Welwyn," said Lady Adela. "I hope you will forgive -this early call, but we are anxious to have a talk with--er--Miss -Welwyn." - -Miss Welwyn's agitated parent ushered the visitors into the dining-room, -bidding Amelia run upstairs and give warning of the coming interview. -Resistance did not occur to her. - -Amelia found her sister sitting motionless on the edge of a chair, with -her arms upon the table. In her hands she held an open letter, which she -was not reading. Her grey eyes, wide open, unblinking, were fixed on -vacancy. Her lips moved, as if repeating some formula. - -Amelia touched her softly on the arm. - -"Tilly," she whispered, "they want to see you." - -Tilly roused herself. - -"Who?" she asked dreamily. - -The question was answered by the appearance in the doorway of Lady -Adela, followed by her husband. Tilly rose, thrust the letter into her -belt, and greeted her visitors. - -"How do you do?" she said mechanically. "Won't you sit down?" - -Lady Adela, singling out that well-tried friend of yesterday, the sofa, -sank down upon it. Mr. Mainwaring remained standing behind. Little -'Melia, after one sympathetic glance in the direction of her sister, -gently closed the door and joined her mother on the landing outside. - -"'Melia," announced that harassed châtelaine, "there's the front door -again! It must be Stillbottle this time. Supposing he meets _them_?" - -"It don't signify if he does," replied her shrewd little daughter. -"They have met once already. Still, we may as well keep him out." - -Mother and daughter accordingly proceeded to a repetition of their -previous performance with the door-chain. As before, the front door was -ultimately flung open with abject expressions of regret. - -On the steps stood a small, sturdy, spectacled young clergyman. - -"Oh, good-morning," he exclaimed. "I am so sorry to trouble you, but I -have been asked by a friend to look at your vacant room. Might I do it -now?" - -This was familiar ground, and Mrs. Welwyn escorted the stranger upstairs -with a sigh of relief. - -"My friend proposes to move in almost immediately," explained Mr. -Rylands, mounting at a distressingly rapid pace, "if they are -satisfactory. That is--of course"--he added in a panic--"I am sure they -will be satisfactory. But my friend proposes to move in at once." - -His approval of the late lair of the bellicose Pumpherston when--almost -before--the panting Mrs. Welwyn had pulled up the blind and unveiled its -glories, erred on the side of the ecstatic. The terms asked for the -dingy but speckless apartment were not excessive, and Mr. Rylands agreed -to them at once. - -"May I ask, sir," enquired Mrs. Welwyn, as they descended the -staircase--"did some one recommend us? We like to know who our friends -are." - -Mr. Rylands was quite prepared for this question. - -"As a matter of fact," he explained volubly, "I believe the gentleman -saw the card in the window; and being particularly fond of Russell -Square, and--and its associations, and so on, he decided to come and -reside here. He will send his luggage round this afternoon." - -By this time they had passed the closed drawing-room door and were in -the hall again. - -"Will you give me the gentleman's name, sir, please?" asked Mrs. Welwyn, -in obedience to a reminding gleam in the eye of her small daughter, who -was standing full in the open doorway, apparently with the intention of -collaring Mr. Rylands low. "I suppose he can give a reference, or pay a -week in advance? That's our usual--" - -"Certainly, by all means," said Rylands hurriedly. Like most men, he -found it almost as delicate and embarrassing an undertaking to discuss -money matters with a woman as to make love to her. "In point of fact," -he continued, searching furtively in his pocket, "my friend would like -to pay a month in advance. He is anxious to make quite sure of the -rooms, so--oh, I beg your pardon!" (This to little 'Melia, into whom he -had cannoned heavily in a misguided but characteristic attempt to walk -out of the house backwards.) "_Good_-morning!" - -And the Reverend Godfrey Rylands, thrusting a warm bank-note into Mrs. -Welwyn's palm, stumbled down the steps into the Square, and set off at a -most unclerical pace in the direction of Piccadilly. He was going to -lunch, it will be remembered, with Connie Carmyle. - -"He never left the new lodger's name," recollected Mrs. Welwyn, too -late. - -"No, but he left a five-pound note," said practical Amelia. - - - - II - - -Meanwhile, upstairs, Lady Adela was concluding a stately and -well-balanced harangue. Of her two auditors Mr. Mainwaring appeared to -be paying more attention. He looked supremely unhappy. - -Tilly sat bolt upright on a hard chair, staring straight through Lady -Adela at the opposite wall. Occasionally her hand stole to her belt. It -is regrettable to have to add, in the interests of strict veracity, that -the greater part of Lady Adela's carefully reasoned and studiously -moderate address was flowing in at one ear and out at the other. Tilly -had no clear idea that she was being spoken to; she was only vaguely -conscious that any one was speaking at all. All her thoughts were -concentrated on the last page of Dicky's letter--all she had read so -far. She sat quite still, occasionally nodding intelligently to put her -visitors at their ease. Once or twice her lips moved, as if repeating -some formula. - -"Do not imagine, Miss Welwyn," Lady Adela was saying, "that we are in -any way angry or resentful at what has occurred. We are merely grieved, -but at the same time _relieved_. So far from wishing you ill in -consequence of this attempt upon your part to--to better yourself, my -husband and I are here to offer to do something for you. You must not -think that we want to be unkind or harsh. This is a difficult and -painful interview for both of us--" - -"For all of us, Miss Welwyn," murmured Mr. Mainwaring. - -"You appreciate that fact, I hope, Miss Welwyn," said Lady Adela in a -slightly louder tone; for the girl made no sign. - -Tilly nodded her head absently. - -"He loves me! He loves me!" she murmured to herself. "He loves me -still!" - -Lady Adela ploughed on. She was a kindly woman, and in her heart she -felt sorry for Tilly. Not that this fact assisted her to understand -Tilly's point of view, or to remember what Dicky had never forgotten, -namely, that the girl before her was a lady. She laboured, too, under a -grievous disadvantage. Deep feeling was to her a thing unknown. She -had never thrilled with tremulous rapture. The sighing of a wounded -spirit had no meaning for her. Her heart was a well-regulated and -rhythmatic organ, and had always beaten in accordance with the laws of -what its owner called common sense. It had never fluttered or stood -still. - -Lady Adela had married her husband because he was rich and she was the -youngest daughter of a great but impoverished house; and after the -singular but ineradicable habit of her sex, she had founded her entire -conception of life upon her own experience of it. To her, marriage was -a matter neither of romance nor affinity. It was a contract: a sacred -contract, perhaps,--in her own case it had even been fully choral,--but -a mere matter of business for all that. To her, her son's ideal bride -was a well-bred young woman with the same tastes and social circle as -himself, and possibly a little money of her own. It had never occurred -to her that Love contained any other elements. Accordingly she ploughed -on; trying to be fair; quite prepared to be generous. She offered to -"advance" Tilly in life. She talked vaguely of setting her up "in a -little business." She remarked several times that she was anxious to do -the right thing, adding as in duty bound that certain conditions would -be attached to any arrangement which might be made, "the nature of which -you can probably imagine for yourself, my dear." She begged Tilly to -think things over, and assured her that no reasonable request would be -refused. Altogether Lady Adela's was a very conciliatory and -well-balanced proposition. Had it been made by an encroaching railway -company to a landed proprietor in compensation for compulsory ejection -from his property, or by a repentant motorist to an irate henwife, it -might fairly have been regarded as a model of justice and equity. As a -scheme for snatching an amiable but weak-minded young man from the -clutches of a designing harpy, it erred if anything on the side of -generosity. But as a tactful attempt to convey to a young girl the -information that she could never marry the man she loved, it was a piece -of gross brutality. But Lady Adela did not know this. - -Fortunately Tilly heard little or nothing. Occasionally a stray sentence -focused itself on her mind. "My husband and I communicated our views to -our son this morning," was one. "Impart our decision _ourselves_ ... -avoid the necessity of a painful interview ... unnecessary -correspondence," and the like--the disconnected phrases fell upon her -ears; but throughout it all the girl sat with her head in the clouds, -fingering her letter and hugging her secret. Once Lady Adela, in a -flight of oratory, half-rose from her seat. Tilly, with a vague hope -that the call was over, put out a hand, which was ignored. - -But the interview came to an end at last; and Lady Adela, conscious of a -difficult task adequately and tactfully performed, but secretly troubled -by Tilly's continuous apathy, rose to her feet. Tilly mechanically -stood up, too. - -"Good-morning, Miss Welwyn," said Lady Adela, offering her hand. "We -have to thank you for a patient hearing." - -Tilly smiled politely, shook hands, but said nothing. Mr. Mainwaring, -his heart sore for the girl, timidly signalled to his wife to leave her -in peace. - -"Do not trouble to show us out," said Lady Adela; and departed -imposingly through the door. - -With a long sigh of relief Tilly dropped back into her seat. Suddenly -she was aware that she was not yet alone. Mr. Mainwaring had lingered -in the room. He came forward now, and took the girl's hand in both of -his. - -"My dear, my dear!" he said quickly. "I wish you were my daughter. God -give you a good husband!" - -There was an ominous cough upon the landing outside; and the old -gentleman, recalled to a sense of duty, trotted obediently out of the -room, closing the door behind him. - -Tilly snatched the letter from her belt. - -"He loves me!" she murmured. "He loves me! He loves me still!" - -She was not referring to Mr. Mainwaring senior. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - THE FINAL FREAK - - -Tilly finished writing her letter, signed and addressed it, and leaned -back in her chair. - -She had just declined to marry Dicky Mainwaring. - -"That's done, anyhow," she said to herself, with the instinctive -cheerfulness of those who are born plucky. "Now I'll go out and post it -before the Family come home, and then perhaps a little walk round -Bloomsbury will give me an appetite for tea." But as Tilly rose briskly -to her feet her eye fell upon the letter from Dicky, lying beside the -answer to it which she had just written. For the tenth time she picked -it up and re-read certain passages. - -_I don't think I ever loved you as I did yesterday afternoon. As I -watched you fighting that brave, uphill battle of yours in the face of -the most awful odds--Mother and Sylvia are awfully odd, you know--I -suddenly realised how utterly and entirely I had become part of you--or -you of me, if you like. I was on your side in that plucky, -preposterous, transparent little conspiracy from start to finish, and -when the crash came I think I was harder hit than anybody. The only -complaint I have to make is that you did not take me into your -confidence. I could have put you up to one or two tips which might have -made all the difference--you see, I have known Mother and Sylvia longer -than you have--and we could have enjoyed the fruits of victory together. -Still, I forgive you for your obstinacy in trying to put the enterprise -through single-handed. It was very characteristic of you, and anything -that is characteristic of you is naturally extra precious to me. So -don't imagine that yesterday's little interparental unpleasantness is -going to make any difference to you and me--to You and Me!_ - -"To You--and Me!" echoed Tilly softly. - -_... You will probably receive a call from my esteemed parents. They -mean well, but I mistrust their judgment. They will probably intimate -that we must never see one another again, or something of that kind. I -am afraid it is just possible that my dear old mother will offer you -compensation, of a sort. If she does, try to forgive her. She does not -understand. Not at present, that is. One day she will laugh at -herself--which will establish a record--and apologise to you for having -entertained the idea._ - -"No, she won't!" observed Tilly at this point. - -_... It seems ridiculous, does n't it, that any one should seriously set -out to appeal to you to "abandon your demands" upon me? As if things -were not entirely the other way. It is I who am making demands upon -you, dearest. The idea! To lecture you as if you were some designing -little adventuress, instead of the most wonderful worker of miracles -that ever lived--the girl who made bricks without straw--the girl who -made a man of Dicky Mainwaring!_ - -_... So do not be afraid with any amazement--do you know where that -quotation comes from?--at anything my mother may say. She will probably -pile on the agony a bit about the various kinds of trouble that await a -couple who marry out of different social circles, and punk of that kind. -She is a dear thing, my old mother, but very feminine. When she wants -to argue about anything she always begins by begging the question. -Besides, our love is big enough to square any circle, social or -otherwise. So don't you worry, little girl. Leave things to me, and--_ - -Tilly read more slowly and yet more slowly, and then stopped reading -altogether. Then she rose slowly to her feet, crossed the room, and -stood gazing into the fire. She did not know what begging the question -meant, but she had other food for reflection. Connie Carmyle was right. -When it comes to a pinch, letters are useless things, and being useless -are, more often than not, dangerous. - -On the mantelpiece stood two framed photographs--one of Tilly, the other -of Dicky. The original of the first addressed the second. - -"I wish you had n't put in that last bit, Dicky dear ... '_Abandon my -demands_' ... '_A little adventuress_.' ... That's what I am, when all -is said and done. A little adventuress, trying to better herself! Lady -Adela is right and we were wrong. What else could you think of me, -Dicky, once you married me and found me out--a silly, hysterical, common -little chit? ... There's your letter, dear. I dare say I could have got -quite a lot for it in a court of law; but some adventuresses are n't up -to sample. They have no spirit." - -Dicky's much-read epistle dropped into the flames, and Tilly turned with -sudden briskness from her lover's photograph to her own. - -"As for you, Tilly Welwyn," she observed severely, "just remember that -you are only an ordinary, hard-working, matter-of-fact little London -work-girl. You can put all fancy notions about fairy princes and -happy-ever-after out of your head. You are getting a big girl now, you -know. You must live your life and go your own way; and sometimes--only -sometimes, mind!--when you are feeling downhearted and up against it, -I'll allow you to let your thoughts go back to the best man that ever -walked; and although you may cry a bit, you will thank God you did not -spoil his life by marrying him." - -The doors leading onto the landing creaked, and Amelia peeped cautiously -in. Tilly started guiltily. None of us like to be caught talking to -ourselves. The habit savours of exclusiveness--and other things. - -"Tilly dear," said little 'Melia listlessly, "the new lodger has come -with his luggage. Could you give him a hand with it? Everybody is out, -and it's rather heavy for me." - -"All right," said Tilly readily. "I'll be down in half a minute." - -Amelia disappeared, leaving the doors open; and Tilly hastily assumed a -business-like yet hospitable expression, suitable for the welcoming of a -second-floor. - -"One thing more, though, my girl," she remarked sternly, releasing her -features for a moment in order to address her own reflection in the -overmantle mirror. "Just remember that this will require a real -_effort_. It's all very well to feel heroic just now, and talk about -giving him up, and living your own life, and so on; but it won't be -easy. You will have to put your back into it. Supposing you meet him in -the street one day? What then? Can you walk past him? You know you are -as weak as water where he is concerned. What are you going to do about -it?" - -Tilly met her own eyes in the glass, and looked very determined. The -eyes in the glass responded by filling with tears. Tilly turned away -impatiently from this disloyal exhibition. - -"Very well, then," she said. "If you are as weak as that about it, you -must just make up your mind to _avoid_ him--that's all. There's nothing -else for it. You must never see him again.... And I love him so!" she -added inconsequently.... "Poor Tilly!" - -Little 'Melia appeared in the doorway again. - -"He's bringing up his portmanteau," she announced breathlessly, and -vanished. - -Tilly turned towards the door. Laborious steps were audible upon the -staircase, as of one ascending with a heavy load. Presently a man in a -great-coat passed the open doorway. On his left shoulder he carried a -large portmanteau, which hid his face. He passed up the second-floor -staircase and out of sight. - -Tilly, hot and cold by turns, stood shaking in the middle of the floor. - -There was a bump overhead. Then steps descending, slowly. He was -coming back. - -Tilly shut her eyes tight for a full half-minute; then opened them and -tottered forward with a cry. - -In the doorway--laughing, joyous, open-armed--stood The Freak. - -"You foolish, foolish Tilly!" he said; and caught her as she fell. - - - - - THE END - - - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS - U . S . A - - - - - - - By Ian Hay - - -THE FIRST HUNDRED THOUSAND. -SCALLY: THE STORY OF A PERFECT GENTLEMAN. With Frontispiece. -A KNIGHT ON WHEELS. -HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. Illustrated by Charles E. Brock. -A SAFETY MATCH. With frontispiece. -A MAN'S MAN. With frontispiece. -THE RIGHT STUFF. With frontispiece. - - - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAPPY-GO-LUCKY *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40487 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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