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} - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>POMANDER WALK</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Pomander Walk" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Louis N. Parker" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Pomander Walk" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-01-09" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="47925" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1912" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="J. Scott Williams" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> - -<link rel="schema.DCTERMS" href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" /> -<link rel="schema.MARCREL" href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="Pomander Walk" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/walk/walk.rst" /> -<meta scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" content="en" /> -<meta scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" content="2015-01-09T18:55:00.247315+00:00" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> -<link rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47925" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="Louis N. Parker" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="J. Scott Williams" /> -<meta scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" content="2015-01-09" /> -<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="pomander-walk"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">POMANDER WALK</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Pomander Walk -<br /> -<br />Author: Louis N. Parker -<br /> -<br />Release Date: January 09, 2015 [EBook #47925] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>POMANDER WALK</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-361"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-362"> -<span id="marjolaine"></span><img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Marjolaine" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Marjolaine</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-363"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Title page</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">Pomander -<br />Walk</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">by</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">LOUIS N. PARKER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AUTHOR OF -<br />ROSEMARY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">ILLUSTRATIONS by -<br />J. SCOTT WILLIAMS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON -<br />JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD -<br />MCMXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO -<br />GEORGE C. TYLER -<br />FOR VALOUR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 38%" id="figure-364"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Contents headpiece" src="images/img-contents.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Contents headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-the-walk-in-general">Concerning the Walk in General</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>II. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#how-sir-peter-antrobus-and-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-esquire-smoked-a-pipe-together">How Sir Peter Antrobus and Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn, Esquire, Smoked a Pipe Together</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>III. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-number-four-and-who-lived-in-it">Concerning Number Four and Who Lived in It</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>IV. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-a-mysterious-lady-and-an-elderly-beau">Concerning a Mysterious Lady and an Elderly Beau</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>V. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-what-you-have-all-been-waiting-for">Concerning What You Have All Been Waiting For</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>VI. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-pomander-walk-is-not-quite-itself">In which Pomander Walk is not Quite Itself</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>VII. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#showing-how-history-repeats-itself">Showing How History Repeats Itself</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>VIII. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#concerning-a-great-conspiracy">Concerning a Great Conspiracy</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>IX. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-old-lovers-meet-and-the-conspiracy-comes-to-a-head">In which Old Lovers Meet, and the Conspiracy Comes to a Head</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>X. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-the-mysterious-lady-reappears-and-helps-jack-to-vanish">In Which the Mysterious Lady Reappears and Helps Jack to Vanish</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>XI. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#pomander-walk-takes-a-dish-of-tea">Pomander Walk Takes a Dish of Tea</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>XII. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-the-old-conspiracy-is-triumphant-and-a-new-conspiracy-is-hatched">In which the Old Conspiracy is Triumphant and a New Conspiracy is Hatched</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>XIII. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-admiral-sir-peter-antrobus-is-more-determined-than-ever-to-fire-the-little-brass-gun">In which Admiral Sir Peter Antrobus is More Determined Than Ever to Fire the Little Brass Gun</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>XIV. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-miss-barbara-pennymint-hears-the-nightingale-and-the-lamps-are-lighted">In which Miss Barbara Pennymint Hears the Nightingale and the Lamps are Lighted</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>XV. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#showing-how-the-roundabout-road-leads-back-to-the-starting-point">Showing How the Roundabout Road Leads Back to the Starting Point</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 37%" id="figure-365"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Illustrations headpiece" src="images/img-illus.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Illustrations headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Illustrations</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#marjolaine">Marjolaine</a><span> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#jima-very-active-old-sailor-in-spite-of-his-stiff-leg">Jim—a very active old sailor in spite of his stiff leg</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#she-spent-at-least-one-hour-with-him-every-day-listening-as-she-told-the-sympathising-walk-to-her-dead-lover-s-voice">She spent at least one hour with him every day, -listening, as she told the sympathising Walk, -to her dead lover's voice</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#that-s-right-brooke-do-your-duty-and-the-consequences">"That's right, Brooke! Do your duty, and —— the consequences!"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-reverend-jacob-sternroyd-d-d">The Reverend Jacob Sternroyd, D.D.</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#caroline-thring">Caroline Thring</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mr-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-at-his-ease">Mr. Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn at his ease</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#let-us-sit-quite-still-and-think-hard-whether-we-d-like-to-meet-again">"Let us sit quite still and think hard whether -we'd like to meet again"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#she-placed-her-arm-very-tenderly-over-her-shoulders-and-gently-called-her-by-name">"She placed her arm very tenderly over her -shoulders and gently called her by name"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#it-s-enough-to-give-a-body-the-fantoddlesas-my-poor-dear-mother-used-to-say">"It's enough to give a body the fantoddles—as -my poor dear mother used to say"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-started-off-like-an-alarm-clock">He started off like an alarm clock</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-seized-him-by-the-sleeve-and-dragged-him-bewildered-and-protesting-to-the-gazebo">He seized him by the sleeve, and dragged him, -bewildered and protesting, to the Gazebo</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#as-the-sun-came-out-out-came-mr-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-as-resplendent-as-the-sun">As the sun came out, out came Mr. Jerome -Brooke-Hoskyn, as resplendent as the sun</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-eyesore-seized-the-animal-by-the-scruff-of-his-neck-and-hurled-him-into-the-river">The Eyesore seized the animal by the scruff of -his neck and hurled him into the river</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#then-he-resumed-brooke-says-he-brooke-my-boy-just-like-that">Then he resumed. "Brooke," says he, "Brooke, -my Boy"—just like that</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#peter-he-cried-scandalised">"Peter!" he cried, scandalised</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-the-walk-in-general"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONCERNING THE WALK IN GENERAL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 47%" id="figure-366"> -<span id="chapter-i-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter I headpiece" src="images/img-001.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter I headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It lies out Chiswick way, not far from Horace -Walpole's house where later Miss -Pinkerton conducted her Academy for Young -Ladies. It is still there, although it was -actually built in 1710; but London has gradually -stretched its tentacles towards it, and they will -soon absorb it. Where Marjolaine and Jack -made love, there will be a row of blatant shops, -and Sir Peter's house will be replaced by a -flaring gin-palace. It has fallen from its high estate -nowadays; and Mrs. Poskett's prophecy has -come true: one of its dainty houses—I think -it is the one in which the Misses Pennymint -lived—is now indeed occupied by a person who -earns a precarious living with a mangle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even in the days I am writing about, it was -old—ninety-five years old—and had seen -many ups and downs; for I am writing of events -that took place in 1805: the year of Trafalgar; -the year of Nelson's death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that time it was a charming, quaint little -crescent of six very small red-brick houses, close -to the Thames, facing due south, and with a -beautiful view across the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why it was called Pomander Walk is more -than I can tell you. There is a tradition that the -builder had inherited a beautiful gold pomander -of Venetian filigree and that the word struck -him as being pretty and having an old-world -flavour about it. It certainly conferred a sort of -quiet dignity on the crescent; almost too much -dignity, indeed, at first, for it seemed to make -the letting of the houses difficult. Common -people fought shy of it, because of the name, yet -the houses were so small that wealthy folk—the -Quality—wouldn't look at them. Ultimately, -however, they were occupied by gentlefolk -in reduced circumstances; people who had -an eye for the picturesque, people who sought -retirement; and the owner was happy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In 1805 it had grown mellow with age. The -red bricks of which it was built had lost the -crudeness of their original colour and had acquired a -delicious tone restful to the eye. Pomander -Walk was, in fact, one of the prettiest nooks -near London. It stood—and stands—on a -little plot of ground projecting into the river. -At the upper end it was cut off from the rest of -the parish of Chiswick by Pomander Creek, which -ran a long way inland and formed a sort of refuge -for lazy barges, one of which was generally lying -there with its great brown sail hanging loose to -dry. Chiswick Parish Church was only a little -way across the creek, but in order to get to it -you had to walk very nearly a mile to the first -bridge, and I am afraid Sir Peter Antrobus too -often made that an excuse for not attending -more than two services on a Sunday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little houses were built in the sober and -staid style introduced during the reign of Her -Gracious Majesty Queen Anne (now deceased). -The architect had taken a slily humorous -delight in making them miniature copies of much -more pretentious town mansions. Each little -house had its elaborate door with a -shell-shaped lintel; each had its miniature -front-garden, divided from the road-way by elaborate -iron railings; and each had an ornate iron gate -with link-extinguisher complete. You might -have thought the houses were meant to be -inhabited by very small Dukes, so stately were -they in their tiny way. The ground-floor -sitting-rooms all had bow-windows, and in each -bow-window the occupants displayed their dearest -treasures, generally under a glass globe. A -glance at these would almost have been enough -to tell you what manner of people their owners -were. In the first, at the top corner of the -crescent, stood the model of a man-of-war. The -second displayed a silver cup with the arms of -the City of London carefully turned outward for -the passer-by to admire respectfully; the third -showed a stuffed canary; the fourth was empty—I -will tell you why later; the fifth presented -a pinchbeck snuff-box, and in the sixth there was -an untidy pile of old books.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In front of the crescent lay a delightful lawn, -always admirably kept. Jim, Sir Peter -Antrobus's man, mowed it regularly every Saturday -afternoon. This lawn was protected on the -river-side by a chain hanging from white posts. -You never saw posts so white as those were, for -every Saturday evening Jim—a very active -old sailor in spite of his stiff leg—gave them a -fresh coat of paint; he even went so far as to -paint the chain as well.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 55%" id="figure-367"> -<span id="jima-very-active-old-sailor-in-spite-of-his-stiff-leg"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="JIM,—A VERY ACTIVE OLD SAILOR IN SPITE OF HIS STIFF LEG" src="images/img-004.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">JIM,—A VERY ACTIVE OLD SAILOR IN SPITE OF HIS STIFF LEG</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the lower corner of the lawn, and facing the -bend of the river, stood what the inhabitants of -the Walk called the Gazebo, a little shelter formed -by a well-trimmed boxwood hedge, in which was -a rustic seat. Sir Peter Antrobus and -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn would sit there on warm summer -evenings and discuss the news of the day—or, -let me rather say—the news of the day before -yesterday; for the only journal they saw was a -three days old "Globe" which Sir Peter's cousin -sent him when he had done with it, and when he -thought of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great charm of the Gazebo was that it was -sufficiently removed from the houses to ensure -strict privacy: the ladies of the Walk, who shared -fully in their sex's attribute of curiosity, could -neither see nor hear what went on in its seclusion, -and Sir Peter, who thought he was a woman-hater, -was all the more fond of it on that account. -In his own house he really could not talk at his -ease, for his voice had, by long struggles against -gales, acquired a tremendous carrying power; -the party-wall was very thin, and his next-door -neighbour, Mrs. Poskett, was—or, at least, so -he imagined—always listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the pride of the Walk was a great elm-tree -standing in the centre of the lawn, and shading -it delightfully. A very ancient tree, much older -than the Walk: indeed, the crescent had, in a -manner of speaking, been built round it. At its -base Jim—there was really no limit to the -things Jim could do—had built a comfortable -seat which encircled its trunk, and this seat -was the special prerogative of the ladies of the -Walk when it was not occupied by Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -numerous progeny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think I have told you all that is necessary -about the external features of the Walk. You -must see it with sympathetic eyes, if you are not -to laugh at it: a little crescent of six very small -old red-brick houses; in front of them, six tiny -gardens full at all seasons of the year of bright -old-fashioned flowers; then the highly -ornamental railings and stately gates; then a -red-brick pavement, or side-walk; then a broad -path; and then the lawn, the elm-tree, and the -Gazebo. Beyond this, the Thames, bearing -great brown barges up to Richmond or down to -Chelsea, according to the state of the tide; and -the Parish Church of Chiswick, half buried in -the foliage of stately trees, as a fitting background.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You could not find a quieter, more peaceful, or -more forgotten spot near London in a month's -search; for the only way into the Walk was -along a very narrow path by the side of -Pomander Creek: a path the children of Chiswick had -been sternly forbidden to use, and which even -their elders only attempted when they were more -than usually sober, for fear of falling into the -creek. So, although the Walk was nominally -open to the public, it was not a thoroughfare, -as you had to go out the same way as you went in. -Strangers very seldom found their way to its -precincts, and to all intents and purposes the -lawn and the Gazebo had grown to be the private -property of the inhabitants. As their rooms were -extremely small, they made the lawn a sort of -common drawing-room, where they entertained -each other in a modest way with a dish of tea. -After Mr. Basil Pringle and Madame Lachesnais -and her daughter had come to live in the Walk -there would even be music on the lawn. Madame -would bring out her harp, Mr. Pringle his violin, -and Marjolaine would sing quaint old French -ditties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pity the unhappy stranger who stumbled -into the Walk on such an occasion. The music -would stop dead. Teacups would hang -suspended half-way to expectant lips, and all eyes -would be turned on the intruder with a stare -which, if he had any marrow, would infallibly -freeze it. Then to see Sir Peter throw his chest -out, march up to the stranger and ask him what -he wanted in a voice which masked a volcanic -rage under courteous tones, was to behold a -thing never to be forgotten. All the stranger -could do was to stammer an apology and beat -a retreat; but for days the memory of the -unknown danger he had escaped would haunt him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter Antrobus—Admiral Sir Peter -Antrobus—was not a person to be trifled with, I -assure you. In the first place, he lived in the -corner house as you entered the Walk. This -gave him a sort of prescriptive right to -sovereignty. You must also consider that he was an -Admiral and that his gallantry had earned him -a knighthood. He was, indeed, the only -specimen of actual nobility the Walk had to show, -though Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn could, by much -pressure, be induced to admit, that if everyone -had his rights and if lawyers were not such -scoundrels, he himself—but he always broke -off there and left you wondering what degree of -the peerage he had claims to. But Sir Peter was -undoubtedly a knight, and his title gave him the -</span><em class="italics">pas</em><span> in all the Walk's social functions. Not only -that, but the Walk looked up to him as its -natural leader and adviser. None of the -inhabitants would ever dream of making any little -improvements to their houses without having first -consulted the Admiral. It was he who -determined when the lawn needed mowing, the Gazebo -trimming, and it was he who fixed the date for -painting the wood-work and railings of the -houses. Also, he chose the colour: a good, -useful green; and anyone who had dared depart -from the precise shade chosen by him, would -have heard of it. He was to all intents and -purposes an autocrat, and the Walk trembled at -his nod. His rule was very gentle, however. -He kept his one remaining eye steadily fixed on -the Walk; but although it wore a threatening -frown and could flash in fury, the expression -lurking in its depth was one of affection. He -loved the Walk with all his heart; he was proud -of it with all his soul. His one ambition was to -keep it as spick and span as his own quarterdeck -had been. I think, indeed, he confused it -in his mind to some extent with that quarterdeck, -for in his little garden he had erected the -model of a mast, on which he hoisted the Union -Jack with his own hands regularly at sunrise, -and as regularly struck it at sunset. And once, -when the Regent had gone by in the Royal -barge on his way to Richmond, he had come out -in gala uniform, and dipped it in a Royal salute -in the finest style. The Admiral was salt from -head to foot and right through. He used to call -himself a piece of salt junk: for he had been at -sea ever since he was a lad of ten. His bravery -and high spirits had cleared the road for him at a -time when the sea was a path of glory for British -mariners, and his culminating recollection was -the battle of Copenhagen, in which he had taken -part with Nelson. His only cause for complaint -was that he had been put on half-pay too early. -Was not a man of sixty, hale, hearty, and in the -full possession of all his faculties, worth two -whipper-snappers of thirty? And did the loss of -an eye disqualify him? Could he not spy the -enemy as quickly with one eye as with two? As -a matter of fact, you could only use one eye with -a spy-glass, and so, what was the good of the -other? Answer him that! Very well, then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But these outbursts only came in moments of -great depression; generally after his monthly -excursion into town to draw his pay. On these -occasions it was his habit to visit the -coffee-houses where sea-captains of his own standing -congregated; in the afternoon he would dine -with a few cronies at the Hummums; later, he -might take a taste of the newest play at Covent -Garden—he maintained that the Drama, like -the Navy, was going to the dogs—and after the -play there usually followed a jorum of punch -and a church-warden pipe in some hostelry -where glees were sung. Then, in the small hours, -he would be lifted into an old, ramshackle shay, -by the faithful Jim; Jim would be lifted beside -him, and together they would steer a devious -course towards Chiswick, where the village -constable was on the look-out for them, and would -pilot them along the perilous Creek, unlock the -door for them, and deposit them safely in the -passage. What happened after that, which -saw the other to bed, or whether either of them -ever got beyond the foot of the stairs, it were -the height of indiscretion to enquire. An -English gentleman's house is his castle, and if an -English gentleman is too tired to go upstairs -that is nobody's business but his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Walk was always aware of these excursions, -and on the mornings following upon them -it had become the rule to make as little noise as -possible, so as not to disturb the Admiral's -repose. When he ultimately woke on such -mornings it was small wonder he took a jaundiced -view of life, prophesied the immediate stranding -of His Majesty's entire Fleet owing to puerile -navigation, and was, generally, in his least -amiable and least hopeful mood. Small wonder, -also, that he railed against a purblind and -imbecile government for putting a seasoned officer on -the shelf. A headache modifies one's outlook, -and, as Mrs. Poskett was fond of saying, one -should be especially considerate with a man, -more especially a sailor-man, the day after he -had drawn his pay—most especially a sailor-man -who, at the mature age of sixty, was still a -bachelor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Sir Peter was a bachelor, that was not -Mrs. Poskett's fault. She herself had only narrowly -missed belonging to the minor nobility. -Alderman Poskett, her deceased husband, had died -just as he was ripe for the Shrievalty, and, sure -enough, the year he would have been Sheriff the -King had dined with the Lord Mayor, and Poskett -would infallibly have received a knighthood, -had he been alive. Mrs. Poskett felt, in a -confused way, that she had been badly used, and -that the Walk would only be stretching ordinary -courtesy very slightly by addressing her as Lady -Poskett. Unfortunately this never occurred to -the Walk, and as Mrs. Poskett was determined -to achieve the title somehow, she had cast her -eyes on Sir Peter. The latter, however, had not -been a handsome midshipman, and a still -handsomer Captain, without acquiring considerable -experience in the wiles of the sex, and, so far, -Mrs. Poskett's blandishments had met with -only negative success. Mrs. Poskett lived next -door to the Admiral, and to her great distress -there was a sort of subdued feud between them; -a feud she could do nothing to abate. Could -she be expected to get rid of Sempronius, for the -sake of Sir Peter? In the first place, it is not so -easy to get rid of a long-haired, yellow Persian -cat. Once, in a fit of desperation at the failure -of her siege on the Admiral's affections, she had -put Sempronius in a market-basket, and she and -Abigail—her little maid, fresh from a Charity -School—had carried him quite half a mile and -let him loose, after a tragic farewell, in the middle -of a cabbage-field. But when they got home -disconsolate, there was Sempronius washing his -face in front of the fire as if nothing had -happened. After that there was never again any -question of getting rid of him. If the Admiral -really feared for the safety of his thrush, why -did n't he get rid of the thrush? Only once had -Sempronius been found sitting on the roof of the -osier cage, and extending a soft paw downwards -through its bars; the thrush was singing blithely -all the time, and you could see by the expression -on Sempronius's face that his only feeling was -one of admiration for the song. But the Admiral -had taken on amazingly, had stormed and sworn, -and promised to throw Sempronius into the -river if he ever caught him at such games again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since that day Mrs. Poskett had felt that she -had a very uphill task before her; but she had -set herself to work to become Lady Antrobus -with increased determination. She was heartily -encouraged in this by Miss Ruth Pennymint, -who lived in the third house from the top -corner—lived there with her much younger sister, -Miss Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth, elderly and kind hearted, was an -inveterate matchmaker. As she explained to -her bosom friend, Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn, "My -dear," she said, "I've lived three years with a -tragic instance of what comes of blighted -affections; and I'll take precious good care nobody -else's affections get blighted if I can help -it." To which Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn replied, "And -well I understand your meaning, Ruth; for if -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had n't asked me to marry -him, what I should ha' done I don't know." Whereupon -the two ladies, for no obvious reason, -wept together and were greatly comforted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seems that Miss Barbara had years ago been -more or less affianced to a Lieutenant in the -Navy. Not a young lieutenant, an elderly -lieutenant with several characteristics which were -doubtful recommendations. But time had -softened the image of the gallant tar in Miss -Barbara's recollection, and the more it receded, the -more romantic it had become, until now she was, -not so much in love with her recollections of -him, as with what she could remember of the -ideal she had set up in her own mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the flesh, Lieutenant Charles—no one had -ever heard his surname—had been a very short, -puffy man, with a completely bald head. His -language was interlarded with expletives, -suitable, perhaps, to intercourse with rough sailors -in a gale, but devastating on shore in the company -of ladies. Personally, I am not at all certain he -had ever actually proposed to Miss Barbara. I -don't believe he knew how.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two ladies were living near the Docks at -the time, with their father, who was something -in linseed; and I have no doubt Lieutenant -Charles found the old man's Port-wine agreeable -and liked to bask in Miss Barbara's pretty smiles. -For Miss Barbara was very pretty indeed; a -bonny, plump little thing, by nature all mirth -and laughter. She did not so much walk as hop -like a little bird. She was altogether like a -bird. Her father had always called her his -dicky-bird. She kissed just as a bird pecks, and -when she spoke or laughed, it was exactly like the -twitter of birds settling down to sleep at sunset.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether she had ever really been in love with -the lieutenant is another question I must leave -unanswered. It is only barely conceivable. To -be sure, girls do fall in love with the most -improbable men: even short and puffy ones; and -perhaps the lieutenant's strange oaths bewitched -her in some inexplicable way. The only evidence -of practical romance I can bring forward, is that -the lieutenant did undoubtedly present Miss -Barbara on one of his home-comings from -distant parts with a grey parrot with a red tail. -To be sure, he may have found the bird an -intolerable nuisance; but this is an ill-natured -suggestion. Whether this gift was intended as a -hint, whether the parrot was meant as a dove -and harbinger of a coming proposal, or whether -it was an economical return for much liquid -refreshment, the world will never know, for the -same night the lieutenant's inglorious career -came to an equally inglorious end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This combination of what might, with a little -violence, be construed as a lover's gift with the -tragic loss of the lover, was the turning-point -in Miss Barbara's life. Henceforth she convinced -herself that she had been engaged to marry -Charles, and she vowed herself to perpetual -spinsterhood and the care of the parrot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The care of the parrot was no such easy -matter. The bird had made a long journey in -the lieutenant's cabin, and had acquired all the -lieutenant's most picturesque expressions. He -was not, therefore, a bird you could admit into -general society with any feeling of comfort, for -although he was generally sulky in the presence -of strangers, he would occasionally, and when -you least expected them, rap out a string of -uncomplimentary references to their personal -appearance, and consign them, body and soul, -to unmentionable localities, with a clearness of -utterance which left no doubt as to his meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Papa Pennymint died, it was found that -linseed had not been a commodity for which the -demand had been sufficient to build up anything -approaching a fortune. As a matter of fact, -the old man had died just in time to avoid -bankruptcy, and the two ladies had been obliged -to sell their pretty home and to take refuge in -Pomander Walk, out of reach of the genteel -friends who had known them in the days of their -prosperity. Of course the bird had come with -them; but he had not left his language behind, -and Barbara was forced to keep him shut up in -the little back parlour, out of earshot. There -she spent at least one hour with him every day, -listening, as she told the sympathising Walk, -to her dead lover's voice; and it was this -constant companionship with the loquacious bird -which had fostered and developed in her mind -the legend of her unhappy love.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-368"> -<span id="she-spent-at-least-one-hour-with-him-every-day-listening-as-she-told-the-sympathising-walk-to-her-dead-lover-s-voice"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="SHE SPENT AT LEAST ONE HOUR WITH HIM EVERY DAY, LISTENING, AS SHE TOLD THE SYMPATHISING WALK, TO HER DEAD LOVER'S VOICE" src="images/img-016.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">SHE SPENT AT LEAST ONE HOUR WITH HIM EVERY DAY, LISTENING, AS SHE TOLD THE SYMPATHISING WALK, TO HER DEAD LOVER'S VOICE</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a detail, I may as well add here that Barbara -had christened the parrot Doctor Johnson, in -honour of the mighty lexicographer, about -whom she knew nothing except that an engraved -portrait of him used to hang in what her father -called his study, and that when she asked him -who the original was and what he had done, he -said, "Oh, I don't know. Seems he talked a -lot." The parrot talked a lot, and so he was -called Doctor Johnson. I should very much -have liked to hear the observations the Giant -of Fleet Street would have made, had he lived -long enough to be aware of the compliment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How the Misses Pennymint made both ends -meet was a never-ending subject of discussion -between Mrs. Poskett and Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn. -They regretfully came to the conclusion that -the two ladies positively worked for their living. -This was a serious aspersion on the Walk—but -there was a worse one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little while ago a young man—well, a -youngish man—with one shoulder a little higher -than the other, had come to live with the Pennymints. -At first they let it be understood that he -was a distant cousin come on a visit; but when -weeks passed and then months, he could no -longer be described as a visitor, and the Walk -had to face the fact that not only did the Misses -Pennymint work for their living, but that they -also kept a lodger. At first the Walk was -consoled with the idea that at any rate he looked -like a gentleman, and might possibly be one. -But lately it had been discovered that he was a -mere common fiddler, and played every evening -in the orchestra at Vauxhall Gardens. Yet, in -spite of his ungentlemanly profession, the man -did, undoubtedly, behave like a gentleman. -Moreover, it was very difficult to tax the Misses -Pennymint with their ungenteel goings-on; -because there was not an inhabitant of the Walk -who had not experienced some kindness at their -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hope I have conveyed the impression of a -quiet and contented little community. I am -sorry to have to add that there was one fly in -the amber of their content. In the early spring -of 1805 a mysterious figure had suddenly -appeared in the Walk. A fisherman. A gaunt -creature in an indescribable slouch hat: the sort -of hat you do not pick up when you see it lying -in the road; his bony form was encased in a long, -nondescript linen garment, something like a -carter's smock-frock. This had once been white, -but was now of every shade of brown. It -had enormous pockets, bulging with unthinkable -contents. One morning the Walk had awakened -to find him sitting at the corner where Pomander -Creek empties into the Thames; sitting on an -old box, with a dreadful tin vessel full of worms -at his side; sitting fishing. The Walk rubbed -its eyes and wondered what the Admiral would -say. When the Admiral came out of his house -he stopped aghast. Then he gathered himself -together for a mighty effort. But it came to -nothing: you cannot argue with a man who refuses -to argue back. The fisherman met Sir Peter's -first onslaught with a curt "Public thoroughfare," -and then definitely closed his lips. Sir -Peter raked him fore and aft, but never got -another syllable out of him. Ultimately he -retired baffled and beaten. Henceforward the -fisherman came to his pitch every day, except -Sunday. The Walk grew accustomed, if not -reconciled, to his presence by slow degrees. They -spoke of him among themselves as the Eyesore.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-sir-peter-antrobus-and-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-esquire-smoked-a-pipe-together"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HOW SIR PETER ANTROBUS AND JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, -<br />ESQUIRE, SMOKED A PIPE TOGETHER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 47%" id="figure-369"> -<span id="chapter-ii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter II headpiece" src="images/img-020.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter II headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On Saturday afternoon, May 25, 1805, -Pomander Walk was looking its very -best. The sun transfigured the old -houses; the elm rustled in the river-breeze; the -Admiral's thrush was singing wistfully; -Mrs. Poskett's cat, Sempronius, was seated in her -little front garden, wistfully listening to the bird's -song; the Eyesore was patiently wasting worms -on discriminating fish who knew a hook when -they saw it; and Sir Peter Antrobus and -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, both in their shirt-sleeves, were -finishing a game of quoits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A ringer!" shouted Sir Peter, whose quoit had -fallen fairly over the peg. Then he hurried up -to the quoits, and, measuring their respective -distances from it with a huge bandana -handkerchief, added, "One maiden to you, Brooke! -Game all! Peeled, by Jehoshaphat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn flicked the dust off his -waistcoat with magnificent indifference. The -Admiral produced a boatswain's whistle, and in -answer to a blast, his man, Jim, appeared at an -upstair window. "Ay, ay, Admiral!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The usual. Here, under the elm. And look lively."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box. "We -must play it off," said Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn protested. "Another -time, Sir Peter. It is very warm, and my -eye is out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So 's mine," cried the Admiral, with a guffaw; -"but I see straight, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a matter of principle with Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -never to take the slightest notice of -the Admiral's jokes. Sir Peter might be the -autocrat of the Walk, although Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -had his own views even on that point; -but he himself was the acknowledged wit and -man of fashion, and from that position nothing -should shake him. He had spied Miss Ruth -Pennymint working in her open bow-window, -and Mrs. Poskett busy with her flowers. -Assuming his grandest manner, he said warningly: -"Should we not resume our habiliments? The -fair are observing us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul!" cried Sir Peter, shocked -at being discovered in undress. They hastily -helped each other into their coats, which were -lying on the bench under the elm. Meanwhile, -Jim had brought out a tray with two pewters, -two long clay pipes, a jar of tobacco and a -lighted candle, and had placed it on the bench. -From the open upstair window of the Pennymint's -house came the strains of a violin: one -passage, played over and over again, with -varying degrees of success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wish Mr. Pringle would stop his infernal -scraping," growled the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn shrugged his shoulders -with condescending pity. "Poor fellow! What -a way of earning his living!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter turned to the quarter from which -the music came, and, making a speaking-trumpet -of his hands, roared, "Mr. Pringle! Mr. Pringle, -ahoy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hideous wrong note, as if the player had -been scared out of his wits, was the answer, and -Basil Pringle appeared at the window. "I beg -your pardon, Admiral; I was engrossed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Join us under the elm, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With pleasure. I 'll just put away my Strad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Basil retired Sir Peter turned to Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"His what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His Stradivarius," answered the latter, -and as that obviously conveyed no meaning, -"his violin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! His fiddle! Why could n't he say so?—Jim!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another pewter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir." Jim hobbled off into the -Admiral's house and Sir Peter and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -stood, facing each other, each grasping -his pewter of foaming ale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well!" cried Sir Peter, "The King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was not to be put -off with so curt a toast. Planting his feet firmly -together, and throwing his chest out, he boomed -in a formal and stately manner, "His Most -Gracious Majesty, King George the Third, God -bless him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral eyed him curiously for a moment, -and seemed about to speak, but thought better -of it; and for an appreciable time the faces of -both gentlemen were hidden. When they came -to light again it was with a great sigh of -satisfaction, and they both settled down on the -bench for quiet enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now!" cried Sir Peter, "a pipe of tobacco -with you, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delighted!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"St. Vincent. Prime stuff: and—in your -ear—smuggled!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!—reely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men leant over the candle and lighted -their pipes with artistic care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was you at a banquet again last night, -Brooke?" asked the Admiral, during this process.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—yes," replied the other, with splendid -indifference. "The Guildhall. All the hote tonn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucky dog," said Sir Peter, smacking his -lips: "turtle, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the air of a man jaded by too much -enjoyment Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn condescended -to enlarge. "As usual. Believe me, personally -I should much prefer seclusion and meditation -in the company of poets and philosophers, or -dallying with Selina; but my friends are good -enough to insist. Only last night," with a side -glance to watch the effect he was producing, -"Fox—my good friend, the Right Honourable -Charles James Fox—said, 'Brooke, my boy'—just -like that—'Brooke, my boy, what -would our banquets be without you?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was deeply impressed. He felt -himself in touch with the great world. -"Gobblessmysoul!" he cried. "What's your average?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry to say, I usually have to wrench -myself away from my precious Selina four nights -a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think o' that, now!—By the way, how is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn turned his lack-lustre -eyes fondly towards his house. "Selina? Cheerful, -sir. Selina is faint but pursuing. We have -now been in the holy state of matrimony five -years, and never a word of complaint has fallen -from the dear soul's lips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Re-markable! And all that time Pomander -Walk has seen scarcely anything of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has been much occupied—much -occupied," put in Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, with a -deprecatory flourish of his pipe. And, as if in -corroboration of his statement, the door of his -house opened and a pretty maidservant came -out, carrying a year-old baby in her arms. -"Chck! chck!" said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Four olive-branches in five years!" cried -Sir Peter, instinctively sidling away from the -baby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of the female sex," explained Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn: -"all of the female sex. This is Number -Four. Chck! chck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett, attracted by the baby, had -hastily come out of her door carrying her cat, -Sempronius, in her arms, and was beckoning -to the maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And another coming!" roared the Admiral. -"That's right, Brooke! Do your duty, and -damn the consequences!—But let's have a boy -next time," he went on, heedless of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -frantic signals, "let 's have a boy, and -make a sailor of him!—Gobblessmysoul!" For -Mrs. Poskett, having dropped the cat in the -garden, had come up to the tree, and was -simpering with pretty modesty.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 72%" id="figure-370"> -<span id="that-s-right-brooke-do-your-duty-and-the-consequences"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THAT'S RIGHT, BROOKE! DO YOUR DUTY, AND —— THE CONSEQUENCES!"" src="images/img-024.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THAT'S RIGHT, BROOKE! DO YOUR DUTY, AND —— THE CONSEQUENCES!"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good afternoon, gentlemen," said she. "Oh—don't -put your pipes away, please. I have -been well trained. Alderman Poskett smoked -even indoors. May I sit down?" She planted -herself between the two men. "Now, go on -talking, just as though I was n't here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an awkward pause. Fortunately -at this moment Jim created a diversion by -bringing the third pewter. To his amazement -Mrs. Poskett promptly seized it. "For me? -How thoughtful of you!" she cried; and while -Sir Peter and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn looked on -too much astonished to speak, she drained it -as to the manner born.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim, another," grunted the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Poskett protested. "Oh, no, I -could n't! Reely and posivitely I could n't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We was expecting Mr. Pringle, ma'am," -said the Admiral, stiffly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the hint was entirely lost. "Ah, poor -Mr. Pringle! Poor fellow! An unhappy life, I fear; -and him with one shoulder higher than the -other. Not that you notice it much when you -look at him sideways. There. I was rather -alarmed when he arrived a month ago. Can't -be too careful, and me a lone woman. A musician, -you know. One never knows what their morals -may be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoho!" shouted Sir Peter, "he's quiet -enough—except when he 's making a noise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett looked puzzled. She never -could see a joke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn received it with his -customary stony stare and at once broke in. -"He is some sort of cousin to the Misses -Pennymint, I am told?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Mrs. Poskett, with a sniff, "we -are told. But who knows?—I fear—" she sank -her voice to a mysterious whisper—"I fear he -is—hush!—a lodger!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was genuinely shocked. -"You don't say so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral began to grow uncomfortable. -He hated tittle-tattle. "Where's that cat of -yours, ma'am?" he cried, with sudden suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sempronius? The dear thing is so happy. -He 's in the front garden, listening to your dear -thrush."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jehoshaphat!" cried the Admiral, half rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't be alarmed! Sempronius adores -him. He would n't touch a hair of his head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I warn you, ma'am," growled Sir Peter, -reluctantly sinking back into his seat, "if he -does, I 'll wing him." From which you might -gather the speakers thought that thrushes had -hair and cats wings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Basil Pringle, who had carefully laid his -famous Strad in its case and covered it with a -magnificent silk handkerchief, joined the little -group under the elm. He was—apart from a -very slight malformation of one shoulder—a -good-looking fellow. He had the musician's -pensive face, and a pair of very tender brown -eyes, and his hands were the true violinist's -hands, with long and lissome fingers. Jim -hobbled up at the same time with a fresh pewter -of ale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mr. Pringle," said the Admiral, -hospitably, "here 's your pewter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Basil waved it away. "Good afternoon, -Mrs. Poskett—Gentlemen. Thank you, Admiral, -but I 'm sure you 'll excuse me. I have -a long night's work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim was ready for the occasion. He hobbled -back quicker than he had come, and drained -the pewter at one draught under the very nose -of the Eyesore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fiddling at Vauxhall?" asked the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As usual, Sir Peter. It is a gala night. -Fireworks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett gave a little scream of delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fireworks! Oh, ravishing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mrs. Poole is to sing; and Incledon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up jumped the Admiral, slapping his thigh. -"Incledon! Then, by gum, I must be there! -He was a sailor, y' know. I remember him in -'85, on the </span><em class="italics">Raisonable</em><span>. Lord Hervey, and Pigot -and Hughes—they 'd have him up to sing -glees together!—Lord! Did ye ever hear him sing:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'A health to the Captain and officers too,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all who belong to the jovial crew</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>On board of the Arethusa'?"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, the Admiral's voice was an admirable -substitute for a fog-horn, but as a vehicle for -a ballad, it left much to be desired. -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn writhed in melodramatic agony, and -even Mrs. Poskett winced. Basil tried to turn -the enthusiast's thoughts into a gentler channel -by interpolating that to-night Incledon was -to sing "Tom Bowling." At once the Admiral's -face took on an expression of the tenderest -pathos. "Tom Bowling?—Ah!" and he was -off again, in a roar he intended for a mere -sentimental whisper</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling—"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This was too much for Jim's feelings, never -more receptive to melodious sorrow than when -he had just absorbed a pint of ale, and he joined -his master in a sympathetic howl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett was overcome. "Oh, don't, -Sir Peter," she cried. "Alderman Poskett used -to sing just like that. You could hear him a -mile off, but you could never tell what the tune -was." The tender recollection very nearly -moved her to tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter stopped his song abruptly, with a -penitent, "Gobblessmysoul! I beg your pardon!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn felt he had been out of -the conversation long enough. He turned -condescendingly to Basil. "Are we not to see the -Misses Pennymint to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are very busy," replied the young -violinist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett saw her opportunity. "I saw -Miss Ruth sewing at a ball-dress," she said; -and then added with a meaning look at -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, "I wonder which of them is -going to a ball?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil knew from experience what was coming. -Mrs. Poskett continued, "I've seen them making -wedding-dresses, and even," with pretty -confusion, "even christening robes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn turned to her with an -outraged expression: "I trust you do not -insinuate Pomander Walk harbours mantua-makers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It harbours a poor, hunchback fiddler," -remarked Basil, very quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was getting red in the face. "The -Misses Pennymint are estimable ladies, and we -are fortunate to have them among us. Frequently -when I have my periodical headaches—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hum," said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The result, sir, of voyages in unhealthy -regions!—they have sent me their home-made -lavender water. When you had your last fit of -asthma, Mrs. Poskett, did n't they come and sit -with you and give you treacle-posset? And -when Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn presented you with -your fourth daughter, whose calves-foot jelly -comforted her? We have nothing to do with -their means of livelihood; we are, I am happy -to say, like one family. What, Brooke?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus appealed to, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn could -only assent: but he did so with a bad grace, and -with a contemptuous glance at Basil. It was -really too bad of Sir Peter to suggest that he, -Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn, the Man of Fashion, -the friend of the Right Honourable Charles -James Fox, had anything in common with this -shabby musician.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett bridled. "Do you include the -French people at Number Four?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are not French, ma'am," retorted the -Admiral, "and if they were, they couldn't help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett pointed with a giggle to the -Eyesore, who was at that moment lovingly fixing -one more worm on his hook. "Do you include -the Eyesore?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I do not!" roared the Admiral, in a -rage. "He doesn't live here. If England were -under a proper government, he would be hanged -for trespassing. I 've tried to remove him, as -you know, but—ha!—it appears he has as -much right here as any of us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After all," said Basil, soothingly, "he never -moves from one spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He never speaks to anybody," added Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'd better not, ma'am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn summed up with a -laugh, "And I will do him the justice to say, he -never catches a fish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil held up a warning hand, for the door of -Number Four had just opened.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-number-four-and-who-lived-in-it"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONCERNING NUMBER FOUR AND WHO LIVED IN IT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-371"> -<span id="chapter-iii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter III headpiece" src="images/img-033.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter III headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>If I had had to give an account of Number -Four even six months before this story -opens I should have been forced to admit it -was a blot on the Walk. The people who occupied -it had left without paying their rent, which was in -itself a thing likely to cast discredit on the whole -Walk. But they did worse than that. Just before -leaving, they managed, on one plausible pretext -or another, to wheedle sums of varying amounts -out of almost all their neighbours. Out of -every one of them, in fact, except the Reverend -Jacob Sternroyd, D.D., who lived all alone in -the sixth and last house, and about whom I shall -have more to say by-and-by. For weeks the -Walk remained hopeful of seeing its money back. -Then came doubt, and lastly, a period of very -bad temper during which everybody told -everybody else they had said so all along, and if people -had only listened to them—! The owner of the -house, a very fat brewer at Brentford, put in a -dreadful old Irishwoman as caretaker, and she -would sit on the front door-steps—the actual -door-steps, in the open, where the whole Walk -could not avoid seeing her—and smoke a filthy -short black pipe: a sight terrible to behold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When remonstrated with, she retorted volubly -in incomprehensible Milesian. The Admiral -himself had attacked her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, my good woman, we can't have you -smoking here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman looked up at him with bleary -eyes, and puffed in his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you hear what I said?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for should I not hear, darlint?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not to smoke here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who says so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say so. If you don't go indoors, I 'll come -and take the pipe out of your mouth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you so? You bring your ugly face -inside that gate and see phwat I'll do to ye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know who I am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure an' I do. Yer father sowld stinkin' fish -on Dublin quay when I was ridin' in me carriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You foul-mouthed old woman—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you 'ould woman' me, neither. You -go to hell and watch ould Nick stirrin' up yer -grandmother!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-372"> -<span id="the-reverend-jacob-sternroyd-d-d"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="THE REVEREND JACOB STERNROYD, D.D." src="images/img-034.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">THE REVEREND JACOB STERNROYD, D.D.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>No gentleman could hope to carry on a -conversation on these lines with any success when -all the windows of the Walk were open, and all -the inhabitants listening behind the curtains. -The Admiral went straight to the Brentford -brewer, but the latter gave him no redress. He -only asked whether the Admiral had taken the -old lady's advice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was not only in herself an intolerable -nuisance, but she prevented desirable tenants -from taking the house. Whenever any candidate -appeared she had an excruciating toothache; -or she was doubled up with rheumatism; or she -shook the whole house with a ghastly -churchyard cough. The sympathy of the enquirer -forced the information from her that she had -been sprightly and well, a picture of a woman, -till she came to Pomander Walk. Mind you, she -was n't saying anything against the house. It -was a good enough house; though, to be sure, -the rats were something awful. Still, some people -liked rats. In desperate cases she even went so -far as to hint that the house was haunted. She -was a foolish old woman, of course, but why did -locked doors open of themselves? Doors she had -locked with her own hands. They did say that -the last tenant had hanged himself in the garret. -And by that time the enquirer had given her -half-a-crown, and had left her in the undisputed -possession of her cutty-pipe on the doorstep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This fertility of imagination led to her undoing, -however. For upon hearing of it (from the -Admiral, of course) the brewer sent his wife in the -guise of an enquiring tenant, and subsequently -turned the old woman out without any ceremony -whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Walk did not recover its self-respect -for some time. The house was still undeniably -empty. The windows got dirty; dead leaves -covered the door-step; the paint peeled off the -woodwork and the railings; some wretched boys -threw a dead dog into the garden, where it lay -hidden for days; and, besides, the old woman's -suggestion that the house was haunted, left its -poison behind. Presently Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -nurse saw a face gibbering behind the window, -and had hysterics; and next Miss Barbara -Pennymint distinctly saw a hand beckoning to -her from the same window and fled, shrieking, -to her sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral pooh-poohed the whole thing and -made elaborate arrangements to spend a night -in the house with Jim. Jim expressed his delight -at the prospect of such an adventure, and went -about describing exactly what he would do to -the ghost if he saw it; but he had very bad luck -when the time came, with a sudden attack of -sciatica which glued him to his bed. The -curious thing was that however often the Admiral -postponed the day for the undertaking, Jim's -sciatica inevitably returned when the day came. -So time slipped away. The Admiral said he -would explore the mystery alone, but it slipped -his memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the house remained tenantless, and when -the Walk was painted according to the Admiral's -instructions, Number Four had to be passed -over, and consequently looked more woe-begone -than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the next thing the Walk knew was that it -woke one morning to find strange men bringing -loads of furniture, amongst which was a harp, -a </span><em class="italics">forte-piano</em><span>, and a guitar-case, and that -painters—not their own painters, but an entirely -unknown lot—were at work scraping off the old -paint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral rushed out—I am shocked to -say, in his slippers and shirt-sleeves—and was -told that the house was let; let, without any -sort of warning or notice; let, so to speak, over -the heads of the Walk; over his own head. And -the men could not tell him the name of the new -tenant. All they knew was that it was a lady. -A lady with a name they could n't pronounce. -A foreign name. Foreign? </span><em class="italics">Foreign</em><span>?—Yes; -French, by the sound of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was beyond anything the Admiral or the -Walk had ever had to cope with. However, the -Admiral mastered his indignation and contented -himself with giving the painters strict and minute -instructions as to the precise shade of green they -were to use so as to make the house uniform with -the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had to go to London next day to draw his -pay. We know the inevitable consequences of -that excursion. The following morning he woke -at midday in a very bad humour. The first thing -he saw when he threw open his window, was -Sempronius digging up his sweet peas; and the -next was Number Four painted a creamy white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I draw a veil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no use appealing to the brewer. He -said he had nothing to do with it; and when it -was pointed out to him that the chaste uniformity -of the Walk was ruined, he impertinently -suggested that the entire Walk might get itself -painted all over again, and painted sky-blue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the Admiral took his time, determined to -give this malapert and intrusive foreign -woman—she had now become a woman—a severe -lesson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later the house was taken possession -of by an elderly female servant—a stout -and florid Bretonne, who went about, as -Mrs. Poskett said, looking a figure of fun in her -national costume.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then began such a scrubbing and brushing -and washing at Number Four as the Walk had -never seen. The bolder spirits—not the -Admiral: he reserved himself for the -enemy-in-chief—Mrs. Poskett, and Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn's -nurse, made tentative approaches, but were -repulsed with great slaughter: the Bretonne -could not speak a word of English. When, -however, she proceeded to tie a rope from the -elm—the sacred Elm—-to the Gazebo, to hang rugs -across it and beat them to the tune of -"</span><em class="italics">Malbroucq s'en va-t-en guerre</em><span>" sung with immense -gusto, Sir Peter was forced to attack her -himself. He had picked up a smattering of French -in the wars, and the Walk lined its window with -eager faces to witness his victory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas, the Bretonne now pretended not to -understand the Admiral's French, and replied -to all his remonstrances, commands, and -objurgations, with "Bien, mon vieux!" while she -banged more lustily on the rugs and covered the -now apoplectic Admiral with layers of dust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral promised his subjects—Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -I am sorry to say, indulged in a -cynical smile—that the very first hour the -Frenchwoman came into residence—the very -first hour, mind you—he would teach her her -place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day the house was ready for her, and -the Walk could but shudder as it looked at it: -it had become so un-English. The steps were -as white as snow; the garden was trim and neat; -the quiet cream paint was offensively cheerful; -the brass knocker was a poem; the windows -gleamed, positively gleamed, in the sun, and -behind them were coquettish lace curtains. The -crowning offence was that every window-sill -was loaded with growing flowers. Mr. Pringle -said the house standing in the midst of its prim -neighbours reminded him of a laughing young -girl surrounded by her maiden aunts; and Miss -Ruth Pennymint told him he ought to know -better than to say such things in the presence of -ladies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral himself as this story proceeds, -shall tell you in his own words of the startling -effect produced by the arrival of the new -tenants. Suffice it to say that it was totally -unexpected, and that the Walk was forced to readjust -its views in every particular. At the point of -time we have now reached, Madame Lachesnais -and her daughter, Marjolaine, were the most -popular inhabitants of the Walk, and nobody -had anything but good to say of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wherefore, when, as recorded in the previous -chapter, Mr. Pringle held up a warning hand and -said "Madame!" all turned expectantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was quite a little procession that now issued -from Number Four. First came Nanette, the -servant, spick and span in her Bretonne dress, -with a cap of dazzling whiteness. On her arm -was a great market-basket. She was followed -by Madame herself, a tall and graceful person -no longer in the first bloom of youth, but, in -spite of the traces of sorrow on her face, still -beautiful. She was dressed in some quiet, grey -material, for she was still in half-mourning for -her late husband; her delicate throat and hands -were set off by exquisite old lace. She moved -with a sort of floating grace, very charming to -watch. There was distinction and well-bred -self-possession in every line. Behind her -followed her daughter, Marjolaine, a charming -girl of nineteen. There is no necessity for more -particular description. A charming girl of -nineteen is the loveliest thing on earth, and more -need not be said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn leaped -to their feet as Madame appeared. Both threw -their chests out and assumed their finest company -manner, to such an extent, indeed, that -Mrs. Poskett could not repress a contemptuous sniff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame came graciously towards the group. -"Ah! Good afternoon," she said, in a pleasant -voice, with only the slightest trace of a French -accent. "I am going marketing in Chiswick -with Nanette. Nanette cannot speak a word of -English, you know." Then she turned to her -daughter. "Marjolaine, you may take your -book under the tree, if our friends will have -you." Marjolaine was talking to Mr. Basil Pringle. -"It is nearly time for my singing-lesson, Maman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes. Mr. Basil, I fear you find her very -backward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil could only murmur, "O no, Madame, I -assure you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was noticeable that everyone who spoke -to Madame did so with a sense of subdued -reverence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame turned to Marjolaine. "Ask Miss -Barbara to chaperone you, as I have to go out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bien, Maman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are to speak English, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bien, Maman—O! I mean yes, mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn both sidled -up to Madame, while Mrs. Poskett stood utterly -neglected and looked on with the air of an injured -saint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I not offer you my escort?" said both -gentlemen in one breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O no!" laughed Madame. "I have Nanette. -Nothing can happen to me while I have Nanette."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As if anything ever could happen in Chiswick!" -said Mrs. Poskett, a little spitefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame signalled to Nanette to lead the way, -and followed her past the Eyesore and out of the -Walk, convoyed by the gallant Admiral as far -as the corner, where he stood looking after her -an appreciable time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Marjolaine had run up to the -railings of Number Three where Miss Ruth -Pennymint was sewing in the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Ruth," she cried, "is Barbara busy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth looked up from her work with a -smile as she saw the eager young face. "She's -closeted with Doctor Johnson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you ask her to come out when she's -done?" and Marjolaine came back to the tree. -Basil rose from his seat. "Pray don't move," -said the young girl, prettily, "Barbara will be -here in a moment. She is with Doctor Johnson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil's face was very grave. It looked almost -like the face of a man who finds himself in the -presence of a great tragedy; or of one who knows -he is fighting an insuperable obstacle. "Ah, -yes," he sighed, "Doctor Johnson. Surely that is -very pathetic." And he turned away and leant -disconsolately against the railings, with his eyes -fixed on the door of Number Three.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and sit down, Missie, come and sit -down," cried the Admiral, heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine accepted his invitation. "I used -to be so afraid of you, Sir Peter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul! Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were so angry with us for painting our -house white!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hum," coughed the Admiral, looking guiltily -at Mrs. Poskett and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"Ah—hum!—the others were green, ye see. -But it's an admirable contrast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett sniffed. She had not forgotten -the Admiral's ignominious surrender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Miss Ruth and Miss Barbara came out -of their house, hand in hand, as usual. Miss -Ruth was, as we are aware, considerably older -than her sister, and still treated her like a pet -child. Barbara disengaged herself as soon as -she caught sight of Marjolaine, rushed at her -with bird-like hops, and pecked a little kiss off -each cheek as a bird pecks at a cherry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Marjolaine, dearest!" she cried with -enthusiasm, "Doctor Johnson has been most -extraordinarily eloquent!" The two girls walked -away together with their arms gracefully -entwined around each other's waists. Ruth joined -the others under the tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good afternoon," she said, "Dear Barbara!—She -has just had her hour with the parrot. -Her memories of Lieutenant Charles are at their -liveliest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Basil, who had never taken his eyes off -Barbara, heaved a soul-rending sigh, and came -up to Miss Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very unwholesome, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> think," said -Mrs. Poskett, sharply. Miss Ruth explained to -Basil: "Lieutenant Charles was in His Majesty's -Navy, you know, and dear Barbara was -affianced to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I have heard," answered Basil, coldly. -As a matter of fact, he had heard it on an average -twice every day. Ruth went on relentlessly, -"Unhappily he was abruptly removed from this -earthly sphere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bare politeness forced Basil to show some -interest. After all, Ruth was Barbara's sister. -"I presume he fell in battle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say rather in single combat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral with difficulty suppressed a -guffaw. He whispered to Basil with a hoarse -chuckle, "As a matter of fact he was knocked -on the head outside a gin-shop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," the unconscious Ruth went on, "he -had bestowed a token of his affection on dear -Barbara, in the shape of the remarkable bird -you may have seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil had seen him often and had heard him -constantly. For whenever the bird was left -alone, he filled the air incessantly with -ear-piercing shrieks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doctor Johnson," continued Ruth, "named -after the great Lexicographer in consideration of -his astonishing fluency of speech. Doctor -Johnson is Barbara's only consolation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil suppressed a groan. The obstacle! -The obstacle!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear," said Barbara, who had come up -with Marjolaine. She spoke with pretty -melancholy, but with a side-glance at Basil. "Yes, -dear, he speaks with Charles's voice, and says -the very things Charles used to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil moved away. This was almost more -than he could bear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How lovely!" cried Marjolaine. "I wish I -could hear him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, no!" Barbara's chubby face fell into -the nearest approach to solemnity she could -manage. "Not even you may share that -melancholy joy. The things he says are too -sacred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter had sidled up to Basil. "I tell you, -sir, that bird's language would silence Billingsgate. -The atmosphere of that room must be -solid, sir—solid." Basil stared at him with -amazed reproof, and the Admiral turned to -Marjolaine. "Well, Missie, we all hope you 've -grown to like the Walk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love it! And so does Maman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral grew enthusiastic. He turned -towards the houses glowing in the late sun. -"It is a sheltered haven. Look at it! A haven -of content! What says the poet? 'The world -forgetting, by the world forgot.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All had turned with him. They were just an -ordinary, every-day set of people. There was -not a poet among them, if we except Basil, and -yet the Walk, basking in the evening sun, -touched some chord in each heart. The -Admiral saw his flag drooping in the still air, and -remembered his fighting days; Mrs. Poskett -thought of Sempronius, and her tea-kettle -simmering on the hob; Ruth was grateful for -the shelter her little house had given her in her -misfortune; Barbara thought of Doctor Johnson -and—must I say it?—of Basil; Basil thought -of Barbara; Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn thought of -patient, unattractive Selina, and the four baby -girls; Marjolaine, in her fresh girlhood, could -only think of how pretty the flowers looked in the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara exclaimed, "When the sunlight falls -on it so, how lovely it is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil looked into her blue eyes, and -murmured, "It reminds me of the music I am at -work on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is that?" cried Marjolaine. "It -sounds beautiful—through the wall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The musician's enthusiasm was kindled; he -grew eloquent. "It is by a new German -composer: a man called Beethoven. My old -violin-master, Kreutzer, sent it me.—Ah! These -new Germans! They are so complicated; so -difficult. I am old-fashioned, you know. I -had the honour of playing under Mr. Haydn -at the Salomon concerts. Yes! and in the very -first performance of his immortal Oratorio, 'The -Creation,' at Worcester. So perhaps I am -prejudiced. Yet this new music is very wonderful; -very heart-searching." He stopped abruptly, -realising he was talking to deaf ears. Sir Peter -came to his rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know anything about your new-fangled -fiddle-faddles; but, by Jehoshaphat, -Pringle, play me a hornpipe, and I 'll dance -till your arms drop off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hummed the tune, and with amazing agility -sketched a few steps, while Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -put up his quizzing glass and eyed him with a -superior smile. "Oh!" laughed Marjolaine, -clapping her hands, "you must teach me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I will, Missie! and the sooner the better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett was furious. "No fool like an -old fool," she whispered in Ruth's ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara, who had been up to Mrs. Poskett's -gate to stroke Sempronius, came running down -with a little cry of horror. She pointed to the -frouzy figure of the Eyesore. "Look! The -Eyesore 's going to smoke!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, sure enough, after removing an -indescribable handkerchief, a greasy newspaper, -obviously containing his lunch, half an apple, -a large piece of cheese, a huge pocket-knife, and -a lump of coal he had picked up in the road, the -Eyesore had dragged out a horrible little clay -pipe and a dreadful little paper packet of -tobacco. The Walk stood petrified. When the -Eyesore smoked, everybody had to go indoors -and shut their windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His poisonous tobacco!" cried Ruth. "Can -you not speak to him, Admiral?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can, Madam, but he'll answer back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then," said Mrs. Poskett somewhat -tartly, "of course you are helpless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all, ma'am. I hope I can swear with -any man; but—the ladies!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had been observing the -Eyesore. "Thank heaven," he whispered, "his -pipe won't draw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the Eyesore was trying to blow through -the stem, was knocking his pipe on the palm -of his hand, was endeavouring to run a straw -through it: all without success. Finally, in an -access of rage, he tossed it aside and sullenly -resumed his fishing. A sigh of relief went up -from the whole Walk. They were saved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now a quaint figure came slowly round the -corner. "Ah!" cried Basil, "here is our good -Doctor Sternroyd!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With his books, as usual," added Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"What a brain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old dryasdust!" laughed Sir Peter. But -pointing to the Doctor, Basil motioned them -all to silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, to be sure, the Doctor was worth looking -at. He was dressed in the fashion of fifty years -before. Indeed, I should doubt whether in all -those fifty years he had had a new suit of clothes. -On his head was a venerable hat of indefinite -shape; under his left arm a great bundle of old -books; under his right a venerable umbrella of -generous proportions, which had once been -green. Fortunately his coat had originally -been snuff-coloured, so that the spilled snuff -made no difference to it. His small-clothes -were shabby; his lean shanks were encased -in grey worsted stockings, and the great silver -buckles on his shoes were tarnished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the present moment, however, it was not so -much his appearance as his actions that arrested -the Walk's attention. He had come in dreamily -as usual with his lack-lustre eyes seeing nothing -in spite of their great silver-rimmed spectacles. -Suddenly his attention was attracted by something -lying at his feet. He stopped, picked it up -laboriously, and examined it minutely, pushing -his spectacles over his forehead for the purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless the man!" cried Mrs. Poskett. "He 's -picked up the Eyesore's filthy pipe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now he was exhibiting all the symptoms -of frantic joy. Utterly unconscious of the -people watching him, he indulged in delighted -chuckles, and his withered old legs quite -independently of their master's volition executed -a sort of grotesque dance. He looked very much -like a crane that had caught a fish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why the step-dance?" exclaimed Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -with a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter hailed him. "Doctor Sternroyd, ahoy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor looked from one to the other in -genuine amazement. It was evident his mind -had been wandering in some remote world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me! Tut, tut!" he stammered. "I -had not observed you!" Then, with a radiant -face, "Ah, my friends, congratulate me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All gathered round him, and the Admiral -asked, "What about, Doctor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," said the reverend gentleman, holding -up the trophy. "This. A beautiful specimen -of an early Elizabethan tobacco-pipe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was with the greatest difficulty the -Admiral restrained a great burst of laughter from -the onlookers. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn got as far -as "That, sir? Why, that's—" when a -tremendous dig from the Admiral's elbow deprived -him of his wind, and sent him backward clucking -like an infuriated turkey-cock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not wonder at your surprise," continued -the antiquary. "Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, -they are sometimes found in the alluvial -deposit of the Thames; but even my friend, -the Archbishop of Canterbury, whose specialty -they are, does not possess so perfect a specimen -in his entire collection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the Admiral was obliged to exercise all -his authority in order to suppress unseemly -mirth or explanations. Doctor Sternroyd went -on with the tone of regret assumed by a man of -learning in the presence of an ignorant and -unappreciative audience. "Ah, you don't -understand the value of these things. Out of this -fragment it is possible to reconstruct an entire -epoch. I see Sir Walter Raleigh's fleet bringing -home the fragrant weed from the distant -plantations; I see him enjoying its vapours in his -pleasaunce at Sherborne; I see Drake solacing -himself with it on board the Golden Hind. Yes, -yes, I shall read a paper on it.—Ah! if only -my dear wife, my beloved Araminta, were here -now!" With mingled melancholy and triumph -he drifted across the lawn and into his -house—the last house of the crescent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Amazing!" said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn; "but -why would n't you let me tell him, Sir Peter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a wistful look on Sir Peter's face -as he replied. "Ah, Brooke! We all live on -our illusions. The more we believe, the happier -we are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was beyond Brooke; but Miss Ruth -understood and sighed her assent.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-a-mysterious-lady-and-an-elderly-beau"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONCERNING A MYSTERIOUS LADY, AND AN ELDERLY BEAU</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-373"> -<span id="chapter-iv-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter IV headpiece" src="images/img-053.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter IV headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This was evidently to be a memorable -afternoon in the annals of Pomander -Walk; for no sooner had it recovered -from its mirth over the Doctor's antiquarian -discovery than Jim, who had been training the -sweet peas at the corner of the Admiral's house, -shouted hoarsely:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Admiral! Pirate in the offing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a startling announcement was well -calculated to silence all laughter; and the -imposing figure who now appeared round the -corner certainly did nothing to encourage mirth: -a very tall, very gaunt, very bony lady, severely -but richly dressed; her face hidden in the remote -recesses of a more than usually capacious poke -bonnet. She was followed by an enormous -footman carrying a gold-headed cane in one -hand, while a fat pug reposed on his other arm. -The Walk was paralysed and could only stare -and gasp. Who was she? Where did she come -from? Whom did she want?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and examined the Eyesore through -her uplifted </span><em class="italics">face-à-main</em><span>, as if he had been some -strange, unpleasant animal. "Fellow," she -said, "is this Pomander Lane?" A shudder ran -through the Walk. Pomander </span><em class="italics">Lane</em><span>, indeed!—The -only answer the lady got from the Eyesore -was that at that precise moment he found -it agreeable to scratch his back. With an -exclamation of disgust she turned from him only -to find herself face to face with Jim. Now Jim -was not pretty to look at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fellow, is this Pomander Lane?" she repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 've a-lost yer bearin's, mum," replied -the old tar huskily and not too cordially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What savages!" muttered the Lady as she -turned to Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. "You! Is this -Pomander Lane?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had laid himself out to -fascinate her with his courtliest manner, but -the "You!" with which she addressed him -aroused the turkey-cock within him, and it -was an icy and raging Brooke-Hoskyn who -replied, "This, ma'am, is Pomander </span><em class="italics">Walk</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Same thing," said the Lady contemptuously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me, ma'am—!" exclaimed Sir Peter -hotly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she waved him aside and proceeded in a -tone intended to be ingratiating, and therefore -more offensive than any tone she could have -chosen, "My good people"—imagine the Walk's -feelings!—"I have undertaken to look after -the morals of this part of your parish. I have -made it my duty to give advice and distribute -alms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Morals—parish—advice—alms! Had the -Walk ever heard such words uttered within its -genteel precincts? The Lady turned to Ruth, -who happened to be at her side. "Where are -your children?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth stood aghast. She could only breathe -indignantly, "I am a spinster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are there no children?" said the Lady -reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's nurse happened to pass -at the moment on her way into the house. The -Lady stopped her. "Ah, yes." Mrs. Poskett -and the Admiral had sunk in helpless surprise -on the bench under the elm. The Lady turned -to them. "The father and mother, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett and the Admiral started apart, -as if they had been shocked by a galvanic battery. -Mrs. Poskett uttered an indignant scream; the -Admiral could only gasp, "Gobblessmysoul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, purple in the face, came -clucking down. "This, ma'am, is my youngest. -The youngest of four—at present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lady looked him up and down. "I will -give your wife instructions about their -management—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn danced with rage. -"You'll—haha!—She'll teach Selina!—Hoho!—Oh, -that's good!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Lady had caught sight of Marjolaine, -who with Barbara was standing by the Gazebo. -Both young ladies, I regret to say, were -laughing immoderately. Brushing the Admiral aside, -she sailed imposingly across to them and -addressed Marjolaine, who was by this time looking -demure, and overdoing it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I see?" said the Lady severely, -examining Marjolaine through her glasses. -"Curls? At your age, curls? Fie!" Then shaking -a lank finger at her, "Mind! your hair must be -quite straight when next I come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the delight of the Walk Marjolaine made -a pretty and submissive curtsey, and answered, -"Yes, ma'am; but don't come again in a hurry. -Give me lots and lots of time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Mrs. Poskett and Ruth had been -urging the Admiral on. Now he approached -the Lady in his quarter-deck manner, and said,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam—hum—we give alms, and we do not -take advice. You 're on the wrong tack. You 're -out of your reckoning." Then, pointing grandly -to the only entrance to the Walk, "That is your -course for Pomander Lane."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Brooke-Hoskyn, with the same -action, "That!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said all the ladies, pointing -melodramatically to the corner, "That!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim," ordered the Admiral, "pilot the lady out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lady eyed them all in turn through her -</span><em class="italics">face-à-main</em><span>. "Very well," she said, with -magnificent scorn. "I was told I should have -difficulty here. I was told you only go to church -twice on Sundays. I did not expect to find you -so bad as you are. I shall come again. I am -not so easily beaten. I shall certainly come -again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In grim silence she gathered her skirts about -her and departed as she had come, followed by -the footman and the fat pug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had turned the corner the Walk -once more indulged in a burst of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a figure of fun!" cried Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gave here her sailing orders—what?" -chuckled the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Mrs. Poskett gazed into his face with -admiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a wonderful man you are, Sir Peter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they had all recovered, Basil came to -Marjolaine and eagerly reminded her it was high -time for her singing-lesson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine appealed to Barbara: "Maman -told me to ask you to come with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara gave a little hop of delight, but -Ruth exclaimed, "Shall I take your place, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," cried Barbara, almost as if she -were in a fright, "I love to hear her." Barbara, -Marjolaine, and Basil moved slowly towards -Number Three, while Ruth approached Mrs. Poskett. -"Will you come in and take a dish of tea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," replied Mrs. Poskett, "no, thank you," -and then, with a giggle, "I'm going—you'll -never guess!—I 'm going to comb my wig."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing the ladies all strolling towards their -houses the Admiral once more challenged -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn to play off the rubber at quoits. -But he declined. "I think not, Sir Peter. -Selina will be expecting me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett stopped. "I wonder you can -bear to leave her so much alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn felt the implied reproach. -With a countenance full of woe, he replied, -"It tears my heart-strings, ma'am; but she will -have it so. 'Brooke,' she says—or 'Jerome,' -as the case may be—'your place is in the -fashionable world, among the hote tonn.' So I -sacrifice my inclination to her pleasure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How unselfish of you!" said Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued more cheerfully. -"She has many innocent pastimes. At -the present moment the dear soul is joyously -darning my socks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Mrs. Poskett and the other ladies -were on their respective door-steps. Mrs. Poskett -gave a startled cry and called the Admiral's -attention to the corner of the Walk, where four -men in livery had just deposited a sedan chair. -"Company, Sir Peter!" she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter turned abruptly and examined the -person who was with difficulty emerging from -the sedan. "Eh?— Gobblessmysoul! Is it -possible?— My old friend, Lord Otford!" He -bustled up to the newcomer, shouting "Otford! -Otford!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the name had had a magical effect on -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. At the sound of it the -colour had all vanished from his fat cheeks, the -strength seemed to have gone out of his legs, -and his knees were knocking together. "Lord -Otford, by all that's unlucky!" he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett had swept back to the elm. She -happened to have a very becoming dress on, and -she was determined the noble lord should see it. -She caught sight of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's face. -"What's the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn pulled himself together -with a mighty effort. "Nothing, ma'am." Then -with great dignity, "He and I differ in -politics. There might be bloodshed." And -while Mrs. Poskett exclaimed "Well, I never!" -he had dashed into his house as a rabbit dashes -into its burrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett sailed up to her house trying to -catch his lordship's eye. I am afraid all the ladies -were anxious to be noticed, for all lingered at -their doors. A real, live lord was not an ordinary -sight in Pomander Walk. And this one happened -to be a handsome one; well set up, dressed in -the height of fashion, yet quietly, as a -gentleman should dress; and carrying his forty-five -years as though they had been no more than thirty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're looking well, Peter!" he exclaimed, -still shaking the Admiral by the hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Jack! My dear old Jack!" cried -the latter. "Here! come into the house!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," laughed his friend, with a suspicious -glance at the diminutive window. "Stuffy. No. -Looks pleasant under the elm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, come along, then!" shouted the -Admiral, dragging him towards the tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford took off his hat to Mrs. Poskett -with an elaborate bow. "I say, Peter, in clover, -you rascal!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dam fine woman—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Lord Otford caught sight of Marjolaine -just disappearing in the doorway of Number -Three. He stopped short. "Ay, and pretty -gel on door-step." Then, as if struck by a sudden -thought, "By Jove!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dainty little thing, eh?" said the Admiral -with a chuckle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied the nobleman, pensively. -"Reminds me vaguely—" but he changed the -subject. "Well! You're hale and hearty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing amiss with you, neither," laughed -Sir Peter, sitting on the bench and drawing his -friend down beside him. "I am glad to see you! -Thought you was in Russia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Got home a month ago, Peter. Not married yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter Antrobus married? That's a good -'un." Up went the Admiral's finger to his nose. -"No, my Lord. All women, yes. One woman, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure nobody can hear us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter looked round cautiously. Save for -the Eyesore, absorbed in his placid effort to -catch fish, there was no sign of life in the Walk. -Nobody was visible at the windows. From -Number Three came the sound of a fresh young -voice singing scales and arpeggios.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite safe, Jack," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter, I want your help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Woman?" asked Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Not my woman, though, this time. -It's about my boy—Jack."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha! Got into a mess? Chip of the old -block—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. Marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul! How old is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see Jack settled. There 's the -succession to think of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You talk as though you was a king."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, so I am, in a small way. Think of the -estate! I want Jack to take the reins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can he, when he 's on the sea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's to retire as soon as he gets his Captaincy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral jumped up. "Retire! Now! -With Boney ready to gobble us up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otford drew him down again. "Don't you -see? With all this battle and bloodshed, now's -the time for Jack to give me a grandson. He 's -my only child, remember. Why, hang it, man, -if he was to die without issue, the title and the -estates would go to that infernal whig scoundrel, -James Sayle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That won't do," Sir Peter assented, wisely -nodding his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it won't. Now, there's old -Wendover's gel—Caroline Thring."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 50%" id="figure-374"> -<span id="caroline-thring"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="CAROLINE THRING" src="images/img-062.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">CAROLINE THRING</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral made a wry face. "Caroline -Thring? I've heard of her. Never seen her: -but heard of her. Eccentric party, ain't she? -And did n't I hear there was an affair with Young -Beauchamp?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's fallen through. She's an estimable -person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ugh," said the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"People call her eccentric," Lord Otford -continued, hotly, "because she goes about doing -good—distributing alms—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was about to exclaim, but -Otford gave him no time. "You 're prejudiced, you -old reprobate. Wendover 's willing, and there's -nothing in the way. The estates join. She's -sole heiress. Gad, sir, that alliance would make -Jack the biggest man in the Three Kingdoms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Jack fond of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does n't object to her. Hesitates. Says he -don't want to marry at all. Says he has n't had -his fling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—what's it all got to do with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ever since Jack's been home on leave, he's -done nothing but talk about you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good lad!" cried Sir Peter, slapping his thigh. -"I loved him when he was a middy on board the -</span><em class="italics">Termagant</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he loves you. Coming to look you up. -To-day, very likely. When he comes, refer to -Caroline—carelessly. Say what a fine gel she -is. Don't say a word about the estate. These -young whipper-snappers have such -high-and-mighty ideas about marrying for money. Refer -to young Beauchamp. Say in your time young -fellers did n't let other young fellers cut 'em out. -See?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 're a wily old fox, Jack. But, hark'ee! -Sure he's not in love with anybody else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He says he is n't. Oh, there may be a Spanish -Senorita!—Gad! I should almost be ashamed -of him if there wasn't!—But there's no—no—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No Lucy Pryor?" said the Admiral carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The name seemed to fall on Lord Otford like -a blow. He sat quite still a moment, looking -straight before him into who knows what memories. -At last he said very sadly, "No. No Lucy Pryor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral realised his own tactlessness. -He took Lord Otford's hand. "I beg your pardon, -Jack. I 'm sorry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It still hurts, Peter," said his Lordship with -a wistful smile. "Like an old bullet.—Well! -You 'll do what you can, eh?—I don't want you -to overdo it. Just edge him in the right direction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep his eye in the wind, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it.—Well? Any new-comers in the Walk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," chuckled the Admiral, "two oil lamps. -One in front of my house, and one in front of -Sternroyd's. They wanted to give us their -new-fangled, stinking gas, but the whole Walk -mutinied."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very fine, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're only used when there's no moon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I meant new people!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Ah! Yes!—" Then with a sort of -smack of the lips indicative of the highest -appreciation, "A French widow and her daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At once Lord Otford showed a lively interest. -"French, eh?—What? the little gel I saw -going in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered the Admiral, rising and -leading his friend towards the Gazebo where his -whisper would no longer make the windows of -the Walk rattle. "Yes. They're not really -French, y' know. Mother's the widow of a -Frenchman. Madame Lachesnais."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This sounded very dull. His Lordship stifled -a yawn, but he noticed the Admiral's kindling -eye, and felt constrained to continue the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleasant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De-lightful!" answered Sir Peter, kissing the -tips of his fingers at an imaginary ideal. "The -Walk was shy of 'em at first. So was I. Thought -they was foreigners. Foreigners are all very -well for you and me, Jack. We 're men o' the -world. But think of Mrs. Poskett! Think of the -Misses Pennymint! Think of Mr. and -Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford started slightly at the last name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh? Mr. and Mrs. what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brooke-Hoskyn. Sh!" pointing to the house -with his thumb. "Very distinguished man. -Moves in the highest circles. Hote tonn, Jack. -Dines in town regularly four times a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Man of family?" asked Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Family?" roared the Admiral. "Well, I -should say so. Four little gels in five years, and -more to come! Never met him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I seem to remember a man called Hoskyn," -said his friend nonchalantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral shook his head in dismissal of -the undistinguished Hoskyn. "No, no. This is -Brooke-Hoskyn; Brooke—h'm—Hoskyn; with -a hyphen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford had had enough of Brooke-Hoskyn. -"Go on about the French widow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, one morning their shay was -signalled from the back of the Misses Pennymint. -We'd all been watching for their coming, y' know, -because of their house having been painted -white—but that's another yarn altogether. Shays -can't get beyond the corner of Pomander Lane; -so I had time to put on my uniform, and my -medals, and my cocked hat—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meant to show 'em you was Admiral on -your own quarter-deck, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it. And then—" the Admiral glowed -with enthusiasm—"well, then Madame came -round the corner; and then Mademerzell. They -did n't walk, Jack, they floated. And what did -I do? I just sneaked back into harbour, and -struck my colours. Yes!— She was the most -gracious creature I 'd ever seen. And the gel—! -Well, you saw her." He paused for a moment, -and then added in a curiously subdued voice: -"They brought something new into the Walk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford looked at him enquiringly. "What -do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was some little time before Sir Peter -answered. He sat gazing into vacancy a moment, -like a man who is remembering happier things, -calling up a mental picture of a beautiful -landscape—or perhaps of a beautiful face—suddenly -smitten by the recollection of his own -youth. At last, with something like a sigh he -went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're rather an elderly lot, y'know. Beyond -our springtime, Jack, and that's the truth. -When we sit and think, we think of the past, and -try not to think of the future. And, suddenly, -here was this Grace and Beauty and Youth in -the midst of us. It gave the Walk a shock, I -can tell ye. All the women lay-to in repairing-dock -for days. Mrs. Poskett never showed her -nose till she 'd got a new wig from town; Pringle -tells me he caught poor little Barbara Pennymint -looking at herself in the glass and crying; -and Brooke-Hoskyn says his wife, who had -watched 'em come from her window, not being -able to get downstairs, poor soul, sobbed her -heart out and made him swear he loved her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" cried Lord Otford, "you make me -want to see these paragons!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Madame 's only gone shopping. She 'll -be back directly. Wait, and I 'll present -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said his friend, signalling to the -sedan-bearers. "Not to-day. I'm on my way to old -Wendover, at Brentford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! That marriage! Well, I hope I shall -see Jack soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll help me, won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will. I will. God bless you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter escorted his friend to the sedan; saw -him safely into it and walked at its side until it -turned the corner. As he came back he found -himself face to face with Marjolaine, who had -finished her lesson and was coming out of -Number Three with a book in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, now, Missie," he cried, "if you'd -come a moment earlier, I'd have presented you -to a very great man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At his door the Admiral put his hand up to -his mouth and whispered confidentially—a -confidential whisper which could have been -heard the other side of the river—"I say!—We 'll -have a go at that horn-pipe by-and-by—what?" And -chuckling he went into his house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came slowly to the elm, seated -herself, and proceeded to read the "Adventures -of Telemachus."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-what-you-have-all-been-waiting-for"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONCERNING WHAT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 42%" id="figure-375"> -<span id="chapter-v-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter V headpiece" src="images/img-070.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter V headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The sun shone; the thrush sang; the -leaves of the elm rustled; the great -river flowed silently; the breeze came -and kissed Marjolaine and whispered "Wake -up! Wake up! Something is going to happen!" But -she could not hear. She only thought Telemachus -was even duller than usual, and as -she read of Mentor she thought of the Reverend -Doctor Sternroyd. Presently—whether it was -the breeze that blew her thoughts away, or the -singing of the thrush, I cannot say—she lost -the thread of the story; stopped thinking at all; -and just sat with her elbow on her knee and her -chin in her hand, looking with her great brown -eyes into—what?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore saw her. I cannot dip into the -Eyesore's mind. I cannot tell you what -influenced him. I only know he grew restless. He -looked at her over his shoulder once or twice -as she sat there, "In maiden meditation, fancy -free," and suddenly he got up, laid his rod -carefully across the chains, and stole out on -tip-toe. Was it a glimmering sense that he was no -company for this pretty maid lost in thought? -Was it a dim realisation that his ungainly figure -had no business to intrude on her meditations? -Whatever the cause, he stole out on tip-toe and -was lost to sight. Perhaps he was only thirsty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine did not notice his going. Nor -did she see Jack come. Jack came apparently -out of the river. As a matter of fact he tied his -boat to a ring at the foot of Pomander Stairs -and leaped on shore. A delightful young fellow, -the sort of young man you take to, the moment -you set eyes on him. Obviously a sailor. His -lieutenant's undress jacket was over his arm. A -wiry figure, lissome as a willow and as tough as -steel; a face tanned by many suns; true sailor's -eyes looking frankly and fearlessly at the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was evidently in search of something or -somebody. He came down the Walk examining -all the houses curiously; and suddenly he found -himself face to face with Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His shadow fell across her book. She looked -up; and their eyes met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was much too well-bred to show -any surprise, but, as a matter of fact, she was -very much surprised indeed. Here was a new -and terrible situation. A total stranger standing -looking at her; her mother and Nanette gone to -Chiswick; the Admiral shut in his house; and -not another soul in sight. Even the Eyesore -would have been a sort of moral support, but -even the Eyesore had deserted her. However: -Courage! If she went on with her book the -stranger would go. So she went on with her -book, grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the stranger did not move. When a -young sailor-man sees an extremely pretty girl, -his instinct is to stand still and look. Jack stood -still. I will not say he was not nervous. He was. -But he conquered his nervousness, like the brave -fellow he was, and stood his ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine began to get angry. This was an -outrage. She looked up at him once more, and -this time there was a flash in her eyes which -was meant to annihilate him. It did. If she had -not looked up, he might ultimately have gone -reluctantly away. But this look finished him -and rooted him to the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine returned to her book. But -Telemachus had taken on a new shape. He had -laughing blue eyes and he carried a naval -jacket with gold buttons over his arm. Also he -stood looking at her. This was intolerable. -If the stranger would not move, she must. It -went horribly against her pride to retreat in the -face of the enemy, but if the enemy would n't -retreat, what were you to do?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She closed the book with an angry bang and -rose to her feet. The movement roused Jack -to a sense of his own inexplicable behaviour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon!" he stammered, involuntarily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine eyed him haughtily from head to -foot. She had read somewhere that this is what -a well-bred young woman should do under similar -circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" said she, raising her eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm so glad you said 'Why?'" cried Jack, -with evident relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had not expected this. She was -genuinely puzzled and a little off her guard. She -could only repeat, but this time quite naturally, -"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Jack, very volubly, "if you'd -said, 'There's no occasion,' or if you hadn't -said anything, our conversation would have -been finished, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine could have stamped with vexation. -Of course she ought to have said nothing. And -here she was entrapped into what this very bold -young man described as a "conversation"!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The conversation is finished," she said, -trying to pass him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he held up his hand. "No. It's my turn -to ask you a question!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Hein?</em><span>" she cried, more than ever on her -dignity. He had the impudence to accuse her -of asking him a question!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack remembered his manners. With a low -bow he presented himself. "I 'm Jack Sayle, -at your service. I 'm a lieutenant in the Navy; -and I 've just rowed down from Richmond—three -miles. I 'm home on leave; and I 'm -looking for an old friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All that is very interesting," said Marjolaine, -"but it is n't a question," and once more she -tried to get by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack felt rather injured. She might have shown -a little more interest in the autobiography he had -just favoured her with. "I thought it was polite -to tell you who I was. As for the question: it 's -uncommon hot, and when I saw this terrace I -said there 'd be sure to be one here. Is there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" cried Marjolaine, this time really -stamping her foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An inn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you tell me where there is one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not frequent them," answered she, -freezingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" said Jack, crestfallen. "Sorry. I am -dry. You see, I 've rowed all the way from -Richmond. Five miles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had manoeuvred safely inside her -own gate. She felt she could afford a parting -shot at him. "I 'm afraid you 'll have to row all -the way back again. Good afternoon." By this -time her hand grasped the handle of the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack addressed the world in general. "Curious, -how different everything is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine turned. "Different what is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, if I 'd met an old gentleman outside -his house in Spain, and he 'd seen how I was -suffering, he 'd have said his house was mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine indignantly came down one step. -"I am not an old gentleman; I haven't any -house in Spain; and it's a shame to say I 'm -inhospitable!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's face wore an inscrutable smile. He -protested. "I didn't. I only said it was -different."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came back to the gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you really suffering?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack turned away to hide an unmistakable -grin. He spoke in a hollow voice. "Intolerably." Then -he turned to her with a haggard -countenance. "Look at my face!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came out of the gate. Ah, Marjolaine! -The moth and the candle!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't ask you in, because Maman and -Nanette are out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack staggered to the seat under the elm, -and sank on it like a man in the last stage of -exhaustion. "It's of no consequence. I must -row back. Seven miles. Against the tide. -Ah, well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was genuinely sorry for him. -He really was very good-looking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure Maman would ask you in, if she -were here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm quite sure of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I think she would not like me to be—as -you say—inhospitable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say it; but I'm quite sure she -would n't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine's kind little heart was quite melted. -This good-looking young man spoke so very -humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might—I might bring you out something—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A gleam of triumph crossed Jack's face, but -he answered with the air of a martyr: "Oh! don't -trouble!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine's sense of the proprieties got the -better of her again. "What would the neighbours -say if they saw me feeding an entire stranger?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack leaped up in indignant protest. "But -I 'm not! I 've told you my name. That's as -much as anybody ever knows about anybody!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was now in the shadow of the elm. -She examined every house in the Walk. "Number -One 's asleep; Number Two 's combing her -wig; Number Three 's working; Number Five's -nursing one of the four; and Number Six"—poor -Doctor Sternroyd!—"doesn't matter. -I 'll risk it." She turned to go in, but stopped. -"What would you like?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack protested, "Oh, my dear young lady!—It's -not for me to say. Anything you offer -me—anything!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ticking the items off on her pretty fingers, -Marjolaine enumerated the various beverages -stored in her mother's cupboard. "We have -elderberry wine; cowslip wine; red-currant wine; -and gooseberry wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's face was a study. It had grown so -long that Marjolaine exclaimed with genuine -sympathy, "Why, you look quite ill! Which do -you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a choice between poison and discourtesy, -but Jack was equal to it. "I 've been brought -up very simply. I should never have the -presumption to ask for any of those. Have n't you -any ale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ale!" cried Marjolaine, "how low!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said I 'd been brought up simply."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have no ale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before he could stop himself Jack had cried -"And this is England!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine had had an idea. "I know! -There 's Maman's claret. She takes it for her -health. What do you say to </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack had not tried it, and did n't know what -he might be likely to say to it. He could only -stammer, "Oh, it's better than—better than—" -he was going to add elderberry, or cowslip, but -caught himself up in time—"better than ale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!—Now, will you wait a moment under the tree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll wait hours, anywhere!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine caught sight of a figure moving -about in Number Three. She came on tip-toe -to Jack. You see, by this time there was quite -a conspiracy between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! Better!" she whispered. "Go into the Gazebo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack could only stare at her. "Into the what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran across to the summer-house, Jack -following her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," she cried, "in the summer-house. -And keep quite still."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment a horrible suspicion crossed -Jack's mind. "I say! You will come back? -You 're not going to leave me here to perish -of thirst?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be a good joke!" she laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll carve your name while you 're gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you won't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you don't know it!—</span><em class="italics">Voilà</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And before he could stop her she had tripped -into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack sat for a moment in a sort of silent rapture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all he said to himself was "By George!" -three times repeated; and if you don't know -what that exclamation meant, I 'm sure I can't -tell you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had left the "Adventures of -Telemachus" on the seat in the Gazebo. Under -ordinary circumstances Jack would have avoided -picking up a book; but this was her book; it -had been in her hands; her eyes had looked at -it; it was not so much a book as a part of the -little goddess; so he picked it up tenderly and -tenderly opened it. There, on the fly-page, was -a name.—"Lucy Pryor"—Of course! Her name! -Lucy Pryor—just the sort of pretty, simple -name she would have. Aha! but now he'd -astonish her! She should find he had carved -her name, after all! Out came his sailor's knife, -and to work he went, and as he carved he sang -a little song to himself, the words of which were, -"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy Pryor." He was not a poet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore came slowly round the corner. -Seeing the little lady was no longer on the seat, -he drew his line out of the water—I need -hardly record the fact that there was no fish -on it. With a sigh he seated himself on his box, -with his back to the Walk; patiently he placed -a new worm on the empty hook, and in a moment -he was immersed in his contemplative occupation. -There was utter silence in the Walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the upstairs window of Number Five -was thrust open and Mr. Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn, -at his ease in his shirt-sleeves, and enjoying a -church-warden pipe, leant out. He was -evidently conversing with his wife, and was in his -tenderest mood.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-376"> -<span id="mr-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-at-his-ease"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="MR. JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, AT HIS EASE" src="images/img-080.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">MR. JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, AT HIS EASE</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a pity, my dearest Selina, you are -temporarily deprived of the use of your limbs! -The river is flowing by—What? Do I expect -it to stop? No, of course I don't. Why check -my musings? I say, the river is flowing by. -Not a living thing is in sight except the Eyesore; -and he enhances the beauty of his surroundings -by sheer contrast. My smoke does not -incommode you, my own?—You can bear it?—Dear -soul! Am I the man to deprive you of an -innocent pleasure?—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might have gone on all the afternoon in -this strain, but at this moment Marjolaine -came very cautiously out of her house carrying -a tray on which was a bottle of claret, a tumbler, -and a cake. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was immediately -absorbed in this new and inexplicable -phenomenon. What could it mean? He watched -Marjolaine half-way across the lawn. Then in -his softest and most caressing tones he -exclaimed, "Why, Miss Marjory—!" Marjolaine -gave a little cry and very nearly let all the things -drop. She stood aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued, "Is your -mother in the Gazebo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Marjolaine could think of anything -to say she had said "No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?—Then why this genteel refection?" Here -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was forced to look -over his shoulder into the room and answer the -invisible Selina. "Yes, my own. I am speaking -to Miss Marjory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Jack was signalling frantically to -Marjolaine, who, on her part, was as frantically -motioning him to keep still. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -again leant forward, and Jack vanished -only just in time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine explained. "I—I always take a -little refreshment at this hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was quite obvious that Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -did not believe her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How singularly unobservant I am! I have -never noticed it. Wait one moment. I 'll come -and help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This would never do. "No, thank you," cried -Marjolaine, "I am sure your wife wants you." And -she added, as a parting shot, "She sees so -little of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then taking her courage in both hands she -hurried into the Gazebo, where she and Jack -stood, pictures of horror, silently awaiting -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's next move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The latter leant far out of his window vainly -endeavouring to peer round the corner. "Curious, -very curious," he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you hear him?" asked Marjory, in a -tragic whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he comes here I 'll punch his head," -growled Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be quiet!"—And again they both listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's attention was engaged -by Selina, and it was clear from his remarks -that the dear lady was not in her pleasantest -humour. "No, my dear, of course I did n't -mean to go.—</span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> you think her an ugly little -thing?—Matter of taste.—Oh, come! Not -jealous, my own one?—Hold your hand?—Oh, -certainly, if you wish it!" And down came -the window with a crash and what sounded very -like a fine Saxon monosyllable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine and Jack, hearing the window -close, uttered a sigh of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank goodness!" cried Marjolaine; and -then, being a daughter of Eve, "Now you see -what you 've done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pon my honour, I 've done nothing. Just -waited hours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hours, indeed!" said the girl, scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seemed hours," answered Jack, insinuatingly. -"It seemed hours—Miss—Lucy Pryor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy Pryor? Oh! you got that out of the -book! That was Maman's name before she -married. My name's Lachesnais."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"La-ches-nais. Marjolaine Lachesnais. You -don't pronounce the middle </span><em class="italics">s</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you French?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father was." She had filled the tumbler -with claret and was holding it out to Jack. -"Never mind about all that. Make haste."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack rose to his feet, tumbler in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjolaine—? That means Marjoram, -does n't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know French?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack bowed as he swallowed the claret. He -swallowed unwisely. It was a lady's claret, and -that and a lady's cigar are things to be avoided -by the judicious. Indeed Jack was shaken from -head to foot by a convulsive shudder. "Oh -Lord!" said he involuntarily. But he pulled -himself together like a man. "I beg -pardon!—Know French? Very little. -Marjoram—sweet Marjoram—how appropriate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was eyeing him with grave -suspicion. "You are not drinking. It is -Maman's claret!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack gazed stonily at his half-empty tumbler. -"Does she—does she take this for her health?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. As medicine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As medicine—I understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said you were thirsty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a wonderful wine. Quenches your -thirst at once." He put the glass away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take some cake?" said Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had forgotten to bring a knife, so Jack, -sailorlike, broke the cake in two pieces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say!" he cried, "you must have some too, -or I shall feel greedy!" And there they sat, like -two children, contentedly munching and swinging -their legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall call you Marjory," said Jack, between -two bites.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They all do," answered Marjolaine, with -her mouth full.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do they?" asked Jack ferociously. "Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine waved her cake at the Walk in -general. "Oh—the neighbours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impudence!" growled Jack. But he recovered -quickly. "I say! Isn't this delightful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very strange. Do you know, you are -the first young man I 've ever spoken to, in all -my life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's eyes expressed his joy. "No!—that's -first-rate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine stared at him with astonishment. "Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't know. I hate young men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you ought to live here. Here—everybody -is—oh!—so old!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little girl," said Jack, with deep sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must be so lonely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! One cannot feel lonely where there 's -a river. Twice every day it brings down news -from the meadows, where the flowers are, and the -cattle, standing knee-deep in its margin, and the -</span><em class="italics">demoiselles</em><span>—how do you say?—dragonflies—and -the willows, dipping their branches in it. -And then, when the tide turns, it comes back -from the great town, and sings of the ships and -the crowded bridges, and the King and Queen -taking their pleasure in great, golden barges. -And the sea-gulls come with it, and it sings of -the sea!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes were flashing; her face was transfigured; -Jack was leaning forward eagerly, and -if there had been any loophole of escape for him -before, there was certainly none now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you love the sea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I know of it?" said she, coming -to earth again. "I have only crossed from -Dunkerque to Tilbury. But that was lovely! -It was very rough; and I stood against the mast, -and my hair blew all about, and I shouted for -joy!—Oh! I should love to be a pirate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine!" cried Jack, as excited as she. "Tell -you what! We 'll charter a ship, and sweep the -seas, and bang the enemy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'We'?—Why, you're going away in a -minute, and I shall never see you again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause. Marjolaine's words had -brought them both to a sense of reality. Finally -Jack spoke, and his voice had a new ring of -earnestness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjory—do you mean that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned wonderingly innocent eyes on him. -"Why should you come again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think a moment. Let us both think. We -are very young, and I know I 'm hasty. Let -us sit quite still, and think hard whether we 'd -like to meet again. Let us look at each other -and not speak."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-377"> -<span id="let-us-sit-quite-still-and-think-hard-whether-we-d-like-to-meet-again"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""LET US SIT QUITE STILL AND THINK HARD WHETHER WE'D LIKE TO MEET AGAIN"" src="images/img-086.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"LET US SIT QUITE STILL AND THINK HARD WHETHER WE'D LIKE TO MEET AGAIN"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>She met his look quite frankly for a moment—but -only for a moment. Slowly her head sank -and her eyes half closed, and when she spoke, -she spoke very shyly. "I do not see why you -should not come again," she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see why I should! I must!—But it must -be differently."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Differently—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mustn't come on the sly. I'll get an -introduction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But none of your friends are likely to know -anybody in Pomander Walk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack leaped up. "Is this Pomander Walk?" -he almost shouted. "Why, that 's what I Ve -been looking for all the afternoon. That's -where my friend lives—the Admiral!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Marjolaine's turn to be astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not Sir Peter Antrobus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!—Do you know him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, he's the King of the Walk! He lives -at Number One. If you 're quite quiet you can -almost hear him snoring!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there we are then! I'm introduced! -I'm on a proper footing! The whole thing's -ship-shape! O Marjory, what a relief!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't understand—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you do. He 's my father's oldest friend. -I served under him as a middy on board the -</span><em class="italics">Termagant</em><span>. I 'm very fond of him. I 'll come -and see him to-morrow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine clapped her hands. "And then -he can introduce you to Maman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you see? It's grand! I'll come and -see him often—every day—twice a day. If -he 's out, I can sit under the elm and wait for -him—with you. Oh! are n't you glad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very glad you 've found your old friend," -she answered demurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quintidi. Fifth Prairial. Year Thirteen—" -she replied without thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack could only stare. "What are you talking -about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she laughed, "I had forgotten I was -in England. Saturday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's face sank. "Then to-morrow 's Sunday. -Hang. Well! I'll come on Monday. Shall you -be here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am always here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be under the elm." He thought a moment, -and then added insidiously, "Shall you -your mother about to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine hesitated. Perhaps it would be -better to wait until the proper formalities had -been observed. "On Monday; when you've -been introduced."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!" cried Jack. "And now I'll be -off." He took both her hands in his. "Good-bye. -Oh, but it's good to be alive! It's good to -be young! The river is good that brought me -here! The sun is good that made me thirsty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the claret was good?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The claret—! Nectar!—Oh, Jack!—Jack!—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine held up the glass, still half full.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Finish it, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack started back in horror, but seeing the -dawning surprise on her face, bravely seized the -tumbler and dashed it off. Thus swiftly was his -perjury avenged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, little Marjory. Till Monday!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him wistfully. "You think -you will come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think!" cried Jack; and every lover's vow -was in the one word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slip to your boat, quickly!" cried Marjolaine, -peeping round the corner of the Gazebo. But -before he could move she gave a startled cry and -motioned him back. For the Muffin-man had -entered the Walk ringing his bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dash it! What's that?" cried Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep still! It's the Muffin-man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait!" Now she was peeping through an -opening in the box-wood hedge. "Jack! The -whole Walk's awake! Look!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's head was very close to hers. "I can't -see; your hair's in the way. Don't move!" For -a moment they stood watching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed the Walk was awake. The Muffin-man's -bell had acted like magic. The Admiral -and Jim were already bargaining with him. -Mrs. Poskett was on her doorstep with a plate in her -hand. So was Ruth Pennymint. Barbara was -in the garden, and Basil was telling her just how -many muffins he wanted from the upstairs -window; Jane, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's maid, was -waiting impatiently; and Dr. Sternroyd had come -out of his house book in hand, and was making -frantic signals so as not to be overlooked. And -they were all talking, and gesticulating, and -calling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove!" cried Jack excitedly, "there's old -Antrobus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All of them! All of them!" wailed Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're all buying muffins—greedy pigs!—They -won't see me." He made as if to dash out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine held him back. "Yes, they will. -Let me go first. I'll get them talking, and then -you can slip away." But she started back with a -suppressed scream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What now?" cried Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman and Nanette!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes. As ill-luck would have it Madame -Lachesnais and her old servant turned the corner -at this moment, and with a friendly word to -each of her neighbours Madame was coming -slowly towards the Gazebo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They must not come here!" cried Marjolaine -in distress. "I cannot explain you before -the whole Walk!—Is my hair straight?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lovely!—Monday?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't know. I'm frightened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monday?" insisted Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes! Yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But meanwhile Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had come -out of his house, and taking advantage of the -hubbub in the Walk had crossed—shall I say -like a sleuth-hound?—more like a sleuth-cat, -if there be such an animal—to the Gazebo. -So that when Marjolaine came forward to -intercept her mother, she ran straight into his -arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Miss Marjory," he whispered, with -something very like a wink, "I'll fetch the things -for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" cried Marjolaine, in agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother caught sight of her and called her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Marjolaine stood irresolute. Then, -with an almost hysterical laugh, she ran to -her mother. "Me voilà, Maman chèrie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack was peering through the hole in the hedge, -looking for a chance of escape. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -put his head slily round the corner of -the Gazebo—and, sure enough, just as he had -suspected—there was a young man!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What with the Muffin-man, and Madame, -and Marjolaine running to and fro and button-holing -everybody who seemed to be inclined to -drift towards the summer-house, the Walk's -attention was fully occupied. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -lifted his fat hand and brought it down -with a sounding thwack on Jack's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the devil—?" cried Jack, turning -fiercely on his assailant. And then in -amazement, "Hoskyn! By all that's improbable, old -Hoskyn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If it were possible for a large man to shrivel, -the great Mr. Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn seemed to -shrivel as he recognised Jack. He could only -stammer, "You, sir—you!—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoskyn!" repeated Jack. And then, suspiciously, -"What the devil are you doing here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hate to have to write the words, but -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had all the obsequious manner -of a well-trained servant. "I beg pardon, sir," -he muttered, and turned to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Jack caught him by the lapel of his coat. -"No, no, Hoskyn; you don't get off so easily. -What are you doing here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn turned sulky. "I'm -living here, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The doose you are!—Well, you're in the -nick of time. Be a good fellow and fetch my -hat out of the boat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, sir," said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -But as he started to do so, he caught sight of -the Admiral. He turned to Jack and said -respectfully but firmly, "I'm very sorry, Master -Jack; but I can't do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm looked up to here, sir. I should lose -prestige."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack eyed him half with suspicion and half -with mockery. "I say, Hoskyn, what's your -little game?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was getting angry. -"What's yours, sir?" he asked defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the devil do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn pointed an accusing finger -at the wine and the crumbs of cake. "I mean—this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of it? What do you insinuate?" cried -Jack fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's blood was up, and -he was not to be intimidated. "It ain't right, -sir. It ain't right for you to come here like a -snake in the grass drinking claret and making -love to our little Miss Marjory. I won't help -you! I'll be damned if I do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean I'm doing something underhand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn looked at him sternly. -"Well—ain't you, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll devilish soon show you!" shouted Jack, -trying to pass him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn fell into a -sudden panic. "Don't betray me, sir! Don't, -sir!" he entreated, trying to stop him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack thrust him roughly aside with an angry, -"Out of my way!" and poor Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -sank on the seat in the summer-house, gasping, -"Good Lord! He'll tell the whole Walk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack had acted on the spur of the moment; -but now that he was face to face with all the -inhabitants of the Walk a sudden shyness took -hold of him and he stood irresolute. Marjolaine -had sat down exhausted on the seat under -the elm, and Madame Lachesnais was coming -towards her. Little Barbara Pennymint was -the first to see Jack. She gave a demure little -scream and ran to the Admiral. "Look! A -stranger!" Sir Peter was on his dignity at once. -He came straight at Jack. "Now, sir—may I -ask—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Admiral," cried Jack, saluting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh," said the Admiral, fixing his one eye on -the young man, "Gobblessmysoul! what a -coincidence!" He seized Jack's hand and nearly -wrung it off, while the whole Walk watched with -amazed curiosity, and Marjolaine looked on -with delight. "I'm delighted to see you, my -lad!—De-lighted!" He turned to Madame -Lachesnais as the social leader of the Walk. -"Madame Lachesnais!" he cried, holding Jack -by the hand, "Let me have the honour of -presenting my gallant young friend, the Honourable -Jack Sayle, son of my old friend, Lord—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He never got any further. At the words, -"Jack Sayle," Madame, who had been standing -smilingly to welcome the young man, gave a -sharp cry, swayed, and sank swooning in -Nanette's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then what a commotion there was, to be sure! -Marjolaine ran to her mother, Mrs. Poskett, -Ruth and Barbara crowded round her or rushed -about vaguely, crying, "Salts! Quick!" The -Admiral stood petrified a moment. Then he -hurried Jack towards the boat. "Get away, -Jack!" Jack resisted. "But—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Away with you!" insisted the Admiral in a -raucous whisper. "Discretion!—They'll have -to unhook her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Eyesore went on fishing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-pomander-walk-is-not-quite-itself"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH POMANDER WALK IS NOT QUITE ITSELF</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 45%" id="figure-378"> -<span id="chapter-vi-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter VI headpiece" src="images/img-095.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter VI headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Admiral was much troubled. A week -had elapsed since Madame fainted, and -although the mysterious process of -unhooking her, together with a dash of water on her -face, and the salts, had brought her to very -rapidly, a cloud had seemed to hang over the Walk -since that moment. It was certainly not itself, -and it had grown less like itself as the days passed. -Madame was apparently quite well, yet she stayed -within doors, or, if she came out, her face was -more than usually sad, and she walked with slow -steps, like one who bears a heavy burden of -sorrow. She was not seen in church on Sunday. -Marjolaine was there, bright and happy. She -had assured everybody there was nothing really -serious the matter with her mother: only a -headache. On Monday morning Marjolaine -was still her usual merry self, but as the morning -wore into the afternoon and the afternoon into -the evening she grew restless. The Admiral -noticed that she kept on going to the river-bank -and looking up and down stream as if she were -expecting someone. On Tuesday she was out -very early, still apparently watching. On -Wednesday she grew silent, and refused to have her -usual singing-lesson on the plea that she was not -feeling very well. On Thursday she turned -unnaturally gay, but there was a hard note in -her laughter, and Sir Peter had caught her -sobbing in the Gazebo. Fortunately she had not -noticed him, and he was able to retire without -disturbing her. But he himself was greatly -disturbed. The more so as he had seen that Madame -was watching her daughter intently, and that -every change in Marjolaine was reflected on the -elder lady's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Friday found Marjolaine pale and dejected; -and here was midday on Saturday, and she had -not yet appeared!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could she be sickening for a serious illness? -Sir Peter was nervous and anxious. He was also -put out by the fact that although Jack Sayle had -promised as he hurriedly rowed away, that he -would come to see him on the Monday, the whole -week had passed without a sign of the young -lieutenant, and without any word of explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the entire Walk was nervous and anxious. -It had grown so accustomed to Marjolaine's -songs and merry laughter, that as she grew silent -and grave, the Walk grew silent and grave with -her. Mrs. Poskett's temper underwent a change -for the worse, and she and Ruth Pennymint -very nearly had words over a milk-can which -the dairy-man had carelessly hung on the wrong -railing. Ruth's ill-humour was aggravated by -the behaviour of Barbara and Basil. They went -about sighing and turning up the whites of their -eyes; Barbara shut herself up two and three -hours every day with the parrot, and Basil -ground at the slow movement of the Kreutzer -Sonata, repeating one particularly heart-rending -passage so persistently that Ruth wanted to -scream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man who behaved most strangely of -all was Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. That magnificent -creature showed all the symptoms of a guilty -conscience. It is true he strutted about the -Walk, dressed as faultlessly as ever, swung his -tassled cane with much of his old elegance, and -took snuff with all the airy grace imaginable. -And yet—and yet—! Somehow, his clothes -seemed to hang loosely on him. Somehow, his -hat, though poised at a rakish angle, no longer -conveyed the old devil-may-care impression. -His face no longer beamed with unassailable -self-satisfaction. There was a furtive look in his -eyes, as though he were constantly on the watch. -It is a low comparison to apply, but if you have -ever seen a dog who knows he has just stolen a -piece of meat, you have seen Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -Once, when the Admiral, who was stubbornly -resisting the universal depression, came up -behind him unobserved and suddenly slapped -him on the back, he screamed—he positively -screamed. "Thought the Bow-street runners was -after you?" roared the Admiral heartily. But -the tone of fury with which he replied -"Certainly not, sir! How dare you?" was so sincere -that Sir Peter did not pursue the joke. -Evidently he had indeed thought the runners were -after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Walk was like a drooping flower, and -even the Eyesore felt the depressing influence; -he fished less hopefully than ever, and it was -noticed that he interrupted his fishing more -frequently for excursions outside the bounds of -Pomander Walk: excursions from which he -returned wiping his mouth with the back of his -hand, and returned each time perhaps a trifle -less steadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, all these good people had lost their usual -good spirits and their cheery outlook on life -merely because one little girl had left off laughing; -and she had left off laughing because one very -young man had not kept his word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The servants of the Walk were very busy this -Saturday morning. Jane, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -nurse, was explaining to Abigail, Mrs. Poskett's -little maid, that nothing should persuade her to -continue wearing the Charity-School costume -after she had risen to the dignity of domestic -service. Jim was feverishly polishing the -Admiral's little brass cannon. That brass cannon was -the apple of the Admiral's remaining eye; and -at the same time the plague of his life. On -every state occasion, such as the King's -birthday, or the anniversary of the Battle of -Copenhagen, he would, to the great terror of the Walk, -have it out, plant it pointing truculently to the -opposite side of the river and, standing well -away from it, apply a match. This was always -an agonised moment of suspense for the Walk. -But invariably the gun refused to go off. The -Admiral's expletives, however, supplied an -efficient substitute. I am sorry to say the failure -to explode was always due to an act of treachery -on Jim's part. The Walk subscribed five shillings -towards that ancient mariner's liquid refreshment, -and the ancient mariner withdrew the -charge in the dead of night. To-day he was -polishing the gun well in view of all the houses. -The King's birthday was approaching, and the -Walk needed a gentle reminder that unless it -wished to be stunned and to have all its windows -broken, now was the time to start the usual -collection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nanette came out of Number Four, carrying -a rug and a bamboo cane, evidently bent on -beating the former on the lawn. Jane drew -Jim's attention to her. Then began a battle of -tongues. Jim tried to explain that this was -not allowed. If she wanted to beat the rug, she -must do so in the back garden. Words, none of -which either could understand, grew high; Abigail -and Jane joined in, and the place became a -veritable Babel of screaming voices and of wildly -waving arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn opened his window violently. -"What's all this?" he cried; and he was -such an amazing apparition that the voices -sank to sudden silence and the servants rushed, -helter-skelter, into their respective houses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was finishing his toilet. -He was brushing his hair. It stood out on each -side of his head like a sort of double mane, and -his face looked exactly like the representations -of a flaming sun on the cover of an almanac. -He was carrying on a conversation with Selina, -and both he and his wife were evidently in a -bad humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my own Selina," said he, "what was I -to do? Be reasonable. I only wrote and told -his lordship the boy was carrying on a -clandestine love-affair.—No, of course I did n't sign -the letter.—None of my business?—Now, -Selina, if I had n't wrote he 'd have come again, -and all would have been disclosed. We should -have been obleeged to leave the Walk.—Drat -the Walk?—Oh! fie! That is not how my -ring-dove customarily coos.—What? soft words -butter no parsnips?—Selina, Selina—! Does -my Selina think she is in her kitchen?—Yes; -I know I 've made Miss Marjory very unhappy; -but we must make other people unhappy, if -we 're to be happy ourselves. I 'm sorry for her, -very sorry. She's a sweet creature." There -was a sound of a broken tea-cup. "There you -go again!—You scold me for making her -unhappy, and you scold me for being sorry. -There 's no pleasing you anyhow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his perplexity he had brushed his hair over -the top of his head, and now he looked like an -angry cockatoo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came slowly and dejectedly out -of her house. She heard Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -voice and glanced up at him, but even his wild -and wonderful appearance failed to draw a smile -from her. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn could not retire, -much as he would have liked to. He waved a -conciliatory hair-brush at her, and cried with -assumed cheerfulness, "Ah, Miss Marjory—! -How do you do?" then in response to some -remark from his wife, he turned and whispered -peevishly, "I must speak to her; it's only polite. -Don't snivel." He addressed Marjolaine again, -deprecatorily, "You are looking a little pale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine drew herself up. It was intolerable -that anybody should see she was in trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never felt better in my life," she said -defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But more like the lily than the rose?" -exclaimed Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn with a fine touch -of lyricism; and then to Selina, "No; I am not -talking nonsense! It was a quotation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn this morning?" -asked Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the highest spirits!" cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"My dear Selina," he explained, -turning towards the room, "Miss Marjory is -kind enough to ask after your health, and I am -telling her you are in the highest spirits. -Do—not—snivel—she 'll hear you!" To -Marjolaine, with a ghastly smile, "Her gaiety is -infectious; positively infectious!" Some hard -object, thrown with unerring aim, caught him in -the small of the back. "Oh, Lord!" he cried. -"Excuse me, Miss Marjory; Selina has just -remembered a joke she wishes to tell me. Thus -the hours pass in innocent mirth and badinage. -Excuse me!" He turned away. "You really -</span><em class="italics">are</em><span>—!" he cried, almost viciously; and slammed -the window, and disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine never smiled. She moved -as one who had no particular object in life. -She drifted instinctively towards the river-bank -although she knew that strain her eyes as she -might the little boat she had looked for all the -week was now less likely than ever to appear. -At one moment she seemed almost inclined to -speak to the Eyesore; to ask him whether he -had seen what she had so long been vainly looking -for. But the Eyesore was at that instant -impaling a worm, and was altogether too revolting. -She stood a moment looking up and down the -stream, and then turned away with a great sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett's great yellow cat, Sempronius, -was curled up in the sun just behind the Gazebo. -Marjolaine looked at him. She and he were -fast friends, and in happier times she would -have had a friendly word for him and an -affectionate caress. To-day, even that was too much -of an effort. Fortunately Sempronius was -asleep and did not notice her inattention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter Antrobus opened his upstair window -and hung the osier cage with the thrush in it -on its nail. He caught sight of the disconsolate -little figure. "Missie, ahoy!" he roared, as -though he were hailing a friendly craft in the -offing. Marjolaine started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Sir Peter! You made me jump!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sent a shot across your bows—what?" -roared the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's the thrush?" asked Marjolaine with -an interest she did not feel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peaky. Peaky. That confounded cat next -door's been watching him. Seen him about -anywhere?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine pointed to where Sempronius was -lying wrapped in innocent slumber. "He's -quite safe," she said. "There."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Eyesore was between him and Sir -Peter, and the latter had to twist himself into -what was for so portly a gentleman a very -unnatural position in order to see him. "Eh? -Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," she answered, "there, behind the—" she -was just going to say "Eyesore," but -stopped herself in time. "Behind the Gazebo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there! Well, if he moves I'll kill him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine wondered. Could Sir Peter tell -her what she so much wanted to know? Could -he, at least, be brought to talk about what her -heart was full of?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Peter," she said, with as much of her -old cheerfulness as she could summon, and with -that pretty way of hers which no one could -resist, "Are you very busy? Could you spare -time for a little chat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With you?" cried the Admiral, gallantly. -"Hours!" He vanished from the window and -was heard tumbling down his stairs two at a -time. I believe if he had been only a few years -younger he would have slid down the balustrade. -Jim told Jane later in the day he had never seen -anything like it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine waited for him under the elm, -and pondered how she was to lead the -conversation round to what she wanted to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral burst out of his house. For -once he took no notice of the Eyesore. The -cat, however, did arrest his attention. -Sempronius, scenting an enemy, was blinking at -him out of one eye. Sempronius' attitude -towards the Admiral was one of armed neutrality. -He knew Sir Peter bore him no good-will, but he -also knew Sir Peter dare not touch him. Wherefore, -although he kept a wary look-out, even the -Admiral's threatening gesture was not enough -to make him stir from his sunny corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter came to Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's sitting there, watching the Eyesore -like a tiger. Shows cats have no sense. 'Pears -to think the Eyesore's going to catch a fish! -Ha! Never caught a fish in his born days!" He -took both Marjolaine's hands in his. "Well, -Missie; what can I do for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Talk to me," said Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was flattered and delighted. Their -little Missie was coming to life again. "Ah!—tell -ye what," he said, swinging her hands, "If -we had that fiddler here, we might practise the -hornpipe!" He whistled gaily and tried to -force her into the step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" she cried, breaking away from him; -and then, more gently, "No: not to-day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral looked at her anxiously out of -his one eye. "Oh?" said he, sympathetically, -"In the doldrums?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Peter," she cried, impulsively, "was you -ever broken-hearted?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord bless your pretty eyes, yes! Every -time I left port."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! but did the world seem like an empty -husk? and did you want to sit down and cry -your eyes out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was much worse than the Admiral had -anticipated. He must try to make her laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, ye see, I could only have cried one out, -was it ever-so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what did you do? How did you cure -yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, with a jorum of rum, to be sure!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was disappointed. "Oh!—I can't -do that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter came closer. "What? Are you -broken-hearted?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Good heavens! What had she been saying? -Had she given away her precious secret?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not!" she answered, with flaming -cheeks. "Of course not. It's nothing. Only -somebody—somebody has broken their word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look-a-that, now!" cried the Admiral, puzzled. -"But I'll cure you! I'll tell you a story. -Something funny. How I lost my eye—what?" He -drew her down beside him on the seat under -the elm. "Ye see, it was on board o' the -</span><em class="italics">Termagant</em><span>—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you was with Nelson?" asked Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay. Battle o' Copenhagen; year Eighteen-one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was a possible opening. At any rate -Marjolaine would try.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you had many officers under you?" -she insinuated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hundreds!" cried Sir Peter, enthusiastically; -and then, feeling he had conveyed an exaggerated -impression, "well—when I say hundreds—!" -his memory awoke. "Ah! I was somebody, -then!—But this infernal government—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine laid her hand soothingly on his -arm. "I suppose some of them were quite -young?" she said, with splendidly assumed -indifference. Every woman is a born actress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Middies?" cried the Admiral, with -magnificent contempt. "Lord love ye, I took no -notice o' them! Passel o' powder-monkeys!" Then -he added with a touch of tender recollection, -"Not but what Jack Sayle—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack what?" said Marjolaine quickly, as -if she had not heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sayle. Jack Sayle. You know. Young -feller I presented to your lady-mother a week -ago. Time she swooned—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul! I was startled! I thought—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral must not be allowed to wander -from the only topic that mattered. Marjolaine -interrupted him. "Was he on your ship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, Jack Sayle? Ay, was he. And a fine -young feller, too. Of course you was much too -agitated to notice him last Saturday. Gad! I -wonder he has n't been to see me all the week. -Promised he would. Said he 'd come last -Monday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he?" cried Marjory. So he had broken -his word in two places!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He did. There! He's only on leave, and -he has heavy social duties. Only son of Lord -Otford, y' know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Otford!" Marjolaine repeated, amazed. -The name and the title somehow impressed her -with a sense of vague fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay," the unconscious Admiral proceeded -garrulously. "My old friend. Otford's selfish -about him. Ye see, the boy 'll come into a -great estate. Half a county. And the old man's -anxious about his marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose marriage?" asked Marjory, almost voicelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Jack's, to be sure!—Lord!—they -marry 'em now before they 're out of their -swaddling clothes. Otford's in a hurry to -secure the succession—" He stopped abruptly. -This was really not a subject to discuss with a -young girl. "Hum!—what I was about to -say—er—the Honourable Caroline Thring—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Caroline Thring"—Marjolaine repeated the -name to herself. It was a name to remember.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay—daughter and sole heiress of Lord -Wendover. Not my sort. Goes about doing -good—like the party last Saturday. But the -two estates 'll cover the county. It's an -undoubted match—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had heard all she wanted—and -more. She felt she would break down if the -Admiral went on. She looked all around the -Walk for help; for some excuse to break -off the conversation. There was only -Sempronius. "I think—" she just gave herself -time to make up her mind as to what she -could think—"I think I saw Sempronius -stirring!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter jumped up. "Damn that cat!" -he cried—"Beg pardon!—I'll—" But the -golden-haired Sempronius was sound asleep -with his bushy tail over his nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether the Eyesore was shocked by the -Admiral's bad language—which seems -unlikely—or whether he was moved by his usual -thirst, he dropped his fishing-rod, and vanished -round the corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral hurried back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. He 's quiet enough." He saw Marjolaine's -sad face and added, "Gobblessmysoul! -Here I 've been boring you about a young -feller you don't know—" To his amazement -Marjolaine turned her face away abruptly. The -Admiral stopped short. Why did she turn away? -Was it possible that—? How long had Jack -been in the Walk when he met him a week ago? -"</span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> you know him?" said he. Marjolaine was -silent. Sir Peter gave a low whistle. He took -her gently by the shoulder and turned her -towards him. "Here, I say, young woman—You -just look me in the eye." He pointed to his -good one. "This eye." Marjolaine stood before -him in confusion. It made her angry to feel -confused. Why should she feel confused? "I—I -have seen him once," she answered bravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you, begad!—So that's what he was -cruising about here for, was it?—But I'll -teach him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was very angry indeed. "Sir -Peter!" she flashed at him, "If you breathe it, -I 'll never speak to you again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D' ye think I 'll have him coming here—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's not coming here!" cried Marjolaine; -and with a meaning of her own: "Oh, -don't you see he's not coming?—Swear you -won't breathe a word to a living soul! Swear! -Swear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damme!" cried the Admiral. "I must -think that over. And as for you," he added, -with humorous sternness, "you come and sit -under the tree and I 'll talk to you like a Dutch -uncle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine saw Mrs. Poskett at her window. -It would not do for Sir Peter to talk to her like -an uncle—Dutch or otherwise. "Sir Peter!" -she cried, "Sempronius is going to jump!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter rushed to the cat again, and again -found him sound asleep. He turned furiously -towards Marjolaine, but Mrs. Poskett -intercepted him. "Good morning, Sir Peter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter looked up, where the widow was -shaking the ribbons of her cap at him. -"Morning, ma'am," he said, sulkily. "Your cat—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Poskett, craning -forward to see her pet. "Dear Sempronius!—Don't -disturb him! He's so happy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm sure it's going to rain," the widow -explained. "He always sits there when he feels -rain coming; because the fish rise, and he loves -watching them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confounded nonsense," growled Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett closed her window, and Sir -Peter was on the point of returning to Marjolaine -and having it out with her, when Madame -Lachesnais came out of her house. Of course -that made all conversation with the girl -impossible, and as he did not feel he could meet -the mother, knowing what he now knew, there -was nothing left for him but to salute her and -beat a hasty retreat into his own house and -think things over.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="showing-how-history-repeats-itself"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SHOWING HOW HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-379"> -<span id="chapter-vii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter VII headpiece" src="images/img-113.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter VII headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Engrossed in her own gentle melancholy -Madame crossed slowly towards -the river. She was sincerely distressed -about Marjolaine. What could be the matter -with the child? This question had haunted -her all the week; but whenever she had -tried to speak to her daughter, the latter -had evaded her on one pretext or another. In -vain Madame racked her brains. Marjolaine -was not ill; yet she had no appetite; the colour -had faded from her cheeks; the spring had gone -out of her step; and the laughter had died from -her lips. Madame remembered the time—long -ago: twenty years ago and more—when she -herself had looked and spoken and moved, just as -Marjolaine did now; but there had been a very -good reason for that. In Marjolaine's case there -could be no reason. No one had crossed her -young life—or, was she mistaken? That young -man who had so suddenly appeared: who had -so suddenly revived the most poignant memories -of her own youth!—Was it conceivable that -he and Marjolaine had met? had perhaps met -frequently? It was not conceivable. Marjolaine -was the soul of truth. Marjolaine had been -perfectly happy until a few days ago. -Marjolaine had not shown any signs of recognition -when the young man stood there. And yet? -Was it wise to be too sure? In her own case -there had been secrecy, and, now she -remembered, she had borne the secrecy unflinchingly; -had shown a perfectly calm and happy exterior. -The secrets of the young seem to them quite -innocent: merely possessions of their own which -they keep to themselves, which they cannot -understand they are in duty bound to disclose -to their elders. And, to be sure, her own -father—she had lost her mother in early youth—had -never tried to win her confidence. A great -entomologist cannot be expected to allow his -attention to be distracted by a girl's sentimental -nonsense. But she—had she paid enough -attention to her daughter? Had she not -allowed herself to be lulled into false security by -the remoteness of Pomander Walk? But if the -young man—Jack Sayle, of all people in the -world!—had won Marjolaine's heart, why, here -were the beginnings of a bitter tragedy: her -own tragedy all over again. It must be nipped -in the bud. Mercilessly. She must be cruel -to be kind. Could she be cruel to Marjolaine? -Motherhood had its duties, however, and, now -that this great fear was on her, she saw her duty -plainly, and would do it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was interrupted in her meditations by the -sound of weeping, and for the first time, she -saw poor Marjolaine sitting under the tree, -bending low, with her face in her hands, shaken -with great sobs. She hurried across to the -weeping girl, placed her arm very tenderly over -her shoulders and gently called her by her name.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 59%" id="figure-380"> -<span id="she-placed-her-arm-very-tenderly-over-her-shoulders-and-gently-called-her-by-name"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""SHE PLACED HER ARM VERY TENDERLY OVER HER SHOULDERS AND GENTLY CALLED HER BY NAME"" src="images/img-114.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"SHE PLACED HER ARM VERY TENDERLY OVER HER SHOULDERS AND GENTLY CALLED HER BY NAME"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The touch of her mother's arm, the sound of -her mother's voice let loose the floodgates. -With a cry of "Oh, Maman!" Marjolaine -threw her arms round her mother's waist and -buried her face against her. Madame sat down -beside her and drew her very close. "Chérie—my -darling! What is the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine tried to master herself; tried to put -on a brave face; dashed the tears from her eyes, -as she answered—"Nothing, Maman. I think—it -is so beautiful here!—So peaceful! It made -me cry. Let me cry a little on your heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sad smile on Madame's face. As -if you cried because the sun was shining and the -Walk was quiet! "Cry, Marjolaine," she -murmured soothingly. "Do you think I have not -been watching you all this week? Cry, my -darling, and tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing to tell, Maman," said the -girl between her sobs. "Realty and truly there -is nothing." She looked wistfully towards the -river. "There was something; but—" and -down went her head on her mother's breast—"there -is nothing now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame stroked the fair head lying on her -bosom. "My dear, my dear!—I tried every -day to speak to you, but you would not. For -the first time in our lives you and I, who should -be everything to each other, were parted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Maman!" cried Marjolaine, looking up -into her mother's face, "that was because I -was waiting to tell you a great secret. But the -secret no longer exists. It has"—she made one -of her quaint little gestures—"it -has—evaporated!" And with a new outburst of tears she -again hid her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked at her lovingly, and kept -silence a moment. So, then, there was a secret? -What secret? What but one secret is ever in a -young girl's heart? "Ah, chérie," she murmured, -"you see? The secret exists: it is gnawing at -your heart. It will hurt you and hurt you, till -you tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine looked up. Her mother was right. -Speaking might bring her some relief. She would -tell her. She tried to speak; but a look of -puzzled amazement came into her eyes. Now that -she was willing and anxious to speak, she had -nothing to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," repeated Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't, Maman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot begin alone: I don't know how."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I help you, Marjolaine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame could only guess; but even if the -guess were mistaken, it might lead to the truth. -So she spoke tentatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us say, you were sitting here, under the -elm? And that stranger, that young man—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no need to go on. Marjolaine had -already risen to her feet. Her thoughts were let -loose: all the thoughts she had locked in her -breast during the past week, the memories that -had been tormenting her, the problems she had -been struggling with. She saw Jack Sayle as if -he were standing before her. "He stood over -there, in the sun"—she spoke quietly but -intensely—"and he looked at me, and I looked at -him; and—" her voice was hushed, and although -she addressed her mother she did not turn to her, -but kept her eyes on the spot where Jack had -stood—"Mother! what happened to me? I -felt as if he and I had always known each other, -and as if we were alone in the world. No! As -if he were alone, and I were a part of him. And -we spoke. Nothings. Things that didn't matter. -Silly things; about his being thirsty, and what -I could give him. But it was only our voices -speaking. I know it was only my voice: it was -not I. I was thinking of sunshine and music -and flowers. And then we went into the Gazebo; -and the foolish talk ran on! And all the time -my heart was singing!—He told me his name; -and my heart took it and wove music around it, -and sang it! and sang it!" Her voice sank to an -awed whisper. "And—Mother!—I seemed -to step out of childhood suddenly, into—into -what, Mother?—What was it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas!" sighed Madame. The child's words -had carried her back, so far, so far! Back to her -own early youth. Just so had the day been -transfigured for her. Just so the sunshine had -taken on a new glamour. Just so her own heart -had sung its hymns of rapture. Just so she had -stepped across the threshold of childhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine continued. "When he went, -I felt as if he had taken me with him: my heart -and my mind. He said he was coming again—but -he never came; and every day I have wandered -about; looking for what he had taken; -looking for my life!" she sank on her knees at her -mother's feet. "He will never come again! -He will never bring back what he has carried -away!—Oh, mother, what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tears flowed freely now, but silently: -tears of relief at having unburdened her heart. -Madame looked down at her with such pity as -only a mother can feel. "My darling! Is it so -serious as that? God help us, poor blind -things!" She remembered what she must have been doing -while this fateful meeting took place. "While -my child was going through the fire, I was -matching silks for my embroidery!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine looked up at her with great, innocent -eyes. "But it would have been the same if -you had been there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose so," said Madame, sadly. "There -is no barrier against it: not even a mother's arms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what is it?" asked Marjolaine, wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother looked at her searchingly, and -Marjolaine met her gaze steadfastly, with her -clear, truthful eyes. It was patent she did not -indeed know what caused this new pain at her -heart. Madame looked long. Her daughter -seemed, in a way, suddenly to have become a -stranger to her. This child was a child no longer, -and her mother no longer held the first place in -her heart. Yes! and if Marjolaine had suddenly -leapt out of childhood, then she, the mother, must -begin to face old age: she was the mother of a -marriageable girl. She would fight against this -while she could; not for unworthy or small -motives, but to keep her daughter's companionship. -Who was this Jack Sayle that he should -come like a thief in the night and steal -Marjolaine's youth, her happiness and her peace of -mind, and tear the girl out of her mother's arms? -"No," she said, at last, "I will not tell you. If -I told you it would grow stronger; and it must -not. It shall not. You must win yourself back, -as I did. Oh! but sooner, and more completely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was amazed. Had her mother -gone through what she was going through now? -"As you did—?" she cried, in a voice which -betrayed her astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame smiled sadly. "My dearest dear, -the young never realise they are not beginning -the world. Your story is mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a cry of "Oh, mother!" Marjolaine nestled closer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but mine was longer and therefore left -more pain in its track. Chérie, chérie, I am not -telling you this to make light of your sorrow, -but to show you I know what your pain is: to -show you how to fight now, now, with all your -might, to win yourself back." She paused a -moment, to gather her thoughts and to gather -strength. Then she continued very softly, -almost as if she were speaking to herself, "It was -years and years ago, in my father's garden—in -the old vicarage garden—that I felt the sun and -the song enter my heart. He and I were very -young and very happy." Madame paused. -"And then he rode away; and I never saw him again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman!" whispered Marjolaine, stroking her -mother's cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had lived in our dream a whole year; so -my love—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine started at the word. "Love!" Was -this love?—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her mother did not notice her, and went -on; "So my love had time to grow. Its roots -were twined round my heart; and when he left -me, and tore the roots out of me, I thought he -had torn my heart out with them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like me," said Marjolaine, below her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame drew her closer, and whispered, -"Would you like to know his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in her mother's voice -which told Marjolaine her mother had some -special reason for asking her. "Yes; what was -it?" she asked, hushed, and very tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother looked straight into her eyes and -answered slowly, "Jack—Sayle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine recoiled in amazement. "Mother!—I -don't understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The father of the boy you have seen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How wonderful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much more wonderful things happen every -day. It's much more wonderful that I can tell -you this now: that I ever grew out of my love. -For I loved him—ah, how deeply!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was a curious thing. If any profane eye -had lighted on the group—the young girl kneeling -at Madame's feet in the green coolness of -the elm; that profane eye would have got the -impression that here were a mother and daughter -closely linked in some common sorrow, and -clinging to each other for mutual consolation. -In one sense that impression would have been -the right one; but in one sense only. Their -thoughts were worlds apart. Madame was -remembering the days when she was Lucy -Pryor, the daughter of the vicar of Otford. The -great Lord Otford was Lord of the Manor, and -his son, the Honourable John Sayle, being a -delicate lad, was studying desultorily with the -Vicar. The Vicar was more interested in butterflies -than in Greek roots, and the boy and girl -spent most of their time in the great vicarage -garden. Thus the lad had grown strong and -well set up. He was gazetted into the Army, and -sent to America, where the war had just broken -out. There he stayed five years. Lucy treasured -the dearest memories of her playfellow, and -when he came back, a splendid lieutenant, it is -hardly necessary to say that they fell seriously -in love. Their love was patent to everyone -except the vicar and the old Lord. When the -latter discovered it, his fury was indescribable. -He drove the vicar out of his living, and had him -transferred to a miserable parish in the -East-end of London, where there was n't a single -butterfly; and he sent his son, who had retired -from the army, on the Grand Tour. The lovers -parted, vowing to be faithful; but young Sayle -very soon forgot his vows in the excitement of -travel. At Rome he met the Honourable Mabel -Scott, daughter of Lord Polhousie, and, to cut -a long story short, he married her, without a -thought for poor Lucy, whom the shock nearly -killed. Nor did he ever know the blow he had -inflicted, nor ever hear from her, or of her, again. -She was lost in the wilderness of London. A few -years later he had succeeded his father, and was -sent as Ambassador to Vienna. In the same year -his son John—our Jack—was born, and his -birth was closely followed by the mother's death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine, too, was thinking hard. All -sorts of new ideas, new conceptions, were -looming on her horizon. They came as angels, -certainly, but angels with flaming swords. It -seemed that great happiness could be inextricably -interwoven with great misery, so that a -simple human being could not tell where the one -began and the other ended. It seemed that a -man could say one thing and mean another: -that he could look like the Archangel Michael -and yet not mean what he said. It seemed that -you could be wounded in all your finest and most -sensitive nerves just for looking at a man. It -seemed also, that your pride was of no use to -you whatever, but deserted you when it was most -needed, or, rather, turned against you, and helped -to hurt you. This must be enquired into.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mère, chérie," she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, my darling?" asked Madame, coming -out of her dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine pressed her hand to her heart. -There was an actual physical pain there, as if an -iron band were crushing it. "Is this—is what -I feel—love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" cried Madame, "I have betrayed myself. -I did not mean you to know. I am afraid -it was going to be—love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to be! But it is! Or else, this ache? -What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Crush it now!" Madame was distressed. -She would not allow Marjolaine's young life to -be blighted as her own had been. "Crush it -now! Fiercely! ruthlessly! and it will be -nothing. You have only seen him once—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does that make any difference?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could one answer to such a question? -One could only ignore it. "You must be very -brave; very determined; and put the thought -of him away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine shook her head sadly. How could -she put the thought of him away? It was in her. -It filled her. It was she herself. And did she -want to put it away? Would she put it away if -she could? It seemed to her that if the thought -were withdrawn now, she would be left a hollow -husk of a thing, with no thought at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame saw she had gone too far too quickly. -"Dear, I know. It took me a long time, because -I had been happy so long; but at last, when your -father came, I was able to put my hand in his, -and look straight into his eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was a new mystery for Marjolaine. So -good and beautiful a woman as her mother could -love twice, then?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother," said she, with grave enquiry, "did -you love my father as much as you had loved Jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However good and blameless we may be, it is -a very uncomfortable experience to be -cross-examined by utter, single-minded innocence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," said Madame, "life is long, and -nature merciful. I recovered very slowly; but -I tried to be brave; I tried to take an interest -in the life around me: the sordid, sunless life -of the very poor, so much sadder than my own. -Then Jules Lachesnais came to live with us—with -my father and me—in order to study the -English language and our political institutions. -A great friendship sprang up between us. When -my father died, Jules urged me to marry him. -I was utterly alone in the world; I felt a deep -affection for him; and I consented."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She waited for Marjolaine to say something; -but Marjolaine was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He took me to France, where you were born. -We went through the horrors of the Revolution -side by side. He played an active part in those -horrible days; always on the side of justice and -moderation. The aim of his life was to see his -country under a constitutional government, -such as he had learnt to admire during his stay -in England. The excesses he was forced to -witness disgusted him, and he resisted them with all -his might." Madame was lost in her reminiscences. -"Ah, yes! You were too young to know; -but we all ran grave risks of falling victims to -the guillotine. Your father hailed Napoleon as -a deliverer; but when Napoleon began to usurp -power, he foresaw the dawning tyranny; still -more when Napoleon was made consul for life. -He retired more and more from public affairs, -thereby incurring the tyrant's anger and again -endangering his life. When Napoleon was -proclaimed Emperor your father protested -publicly—think of the courage! He was expelled, and -he died disappointed and heartbroken. He -was a brave, true man, faithful to his ideals. I -was very proud of him; very happy and -contented. And I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> very happy and contented -now," she added defiantly,—"or I shall be, -when I see you have won the victory!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine was merciless. This was all -very well, as far as her mother was concerned. -"But what became of poor Jack?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Jack!" Madame laughed bitterly. -"Poor Jack had married some great lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At once poor Jack had lost all Marjolaine's -sympathy. She muttered between her teeth, -"Caroline Thring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you," protested Madame—and perhaps -she protested just a shade too strongly—"I -ceased to think of him. I forgot him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine's brow was puckered in thought. -Could one forget? "But, mother," she said, -very simply, "if you had forgotten him, why did -you swoon when you heard his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down went the cloak of self-deception -Madame had so carefully wrapped round herself. -She took her daughter's face in both her -hands and looked at her sadly. "Ah! my -little girl is become a woman indeed! The -innocence of the dove, and the guile of the -serpent!—Well! Think over what I have told you. -Come, now, chérie, you promise to fight?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marjolaine, without conviction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You promise to conquer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise to try."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least you see there can be nothing -between Lord Otford's son and my daughter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." Oh, what a hesitating yes!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame folded her in her arms. "Try to -lighten someone else's sorrow," she said, kissing -her tenderly, "then you will forget your own, -and the roses will bloom in your cheeks again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Walk was beginning to show signs of -life. The Eyesore came slouching back, and -resumed his fishing with a lack-lustre eye. The -early housekeeping having got itself done, the -ladies of the Walk were showing themselves at -their windows, tending their flowers or dusting -their ornaments. Miss Ruth Pennymint came -bustling out of her door, with needlework. She -looked up at the overcast sky and held up the -back of her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said Madame, catching sight of her. -"Coming into the fresh air to work, Miss Ruth?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth was evidently not in the best of -tempers. "Of course it's going to rain," she -snapped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not yet," said Madame, conciliatorily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind if I sew here?" said Miss -Ruth. "It's so lonesome in the house, when -Barbara's locked up with that precious bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could be the matter? The word "precious" -was uttered in a manner which conveyed -an exactly opposite meaning. Madame said -soothingly, "That is so touching!" And Ruth -snorted. There is no other word. She snorted. -Madame and Marjolaine glanced at each other, -and both moved towards the house. But Miss -Ruth had no intention of being left alone. -"Marjory!" she called. Marjolaine came back; -and Madame went into Number Four alone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="concerning-a-great-conspiracy"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONCERNING A GREAT CONSPIRACY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-381"> -<span id="chapter-viii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter VIII headpiece" src="images/img-129.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter VIII headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now Marjolaine did not want to talk to -Miss Ruth just at that moment, and it -says much for her sweetness of character -that she came back docilely. "Marjory," -said Miss Ruth, looking at her searchingly, -"you haven't had a singing-lesson this week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was confused, and a little angry. -She had just exhausted the subject with her -mother, and it was too bad to be thrust into -the midst of it again by this comparative -stranger. So she answered rather coldly, "I -have n't been quite myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I saw," said Miss Ruth, examining her -over her spectacles. A hot flush rose to -Marjolaine's cheeks. Had she really been wearing -her heart on her sleeve, and showing the whole -Walk the state of her feelings? She must be -more careful in future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything the matter?" asked Miss Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine answered hastily, "Oh, nothing. -Nothing to speak of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm," said Miss Ruth, violently biting -off a cotton-end. Then she added, "Barbara -was quite upset."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How sweet of her!" cried Marjolaine.—Dear, -sympathetic little Barbara!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Not so much about you," said Miss -Ruth rather acidly. "But she looks forward -to sitting with you and Mr. Pringle, when you -are singing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she so fond of music?" asked Marjolaine, -glad to turn the conversation into a less personal -channel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless your dear heart, no!" exclaimed Miss -Ruth sharply. "Now, would she sit and listen -to you if she were? She does n't know one note -from another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to Marjolaine that the conversation -was becoming rather personal, so she held her -tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Ruth evidently had something on -her mind of which she was anxious to relieve -herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it is n't that," she said with a world of -meaning which challenged enquiry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine obliged her, although she felt no -interest. "What is it, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having succeeded in getting the question -she wanted, Miss Ruth made a feint of retreating. -"Pfft!" she said, with the action of blowing -some annoying insect away, and then, cryptically, -"Oh! grant me patience!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruth!" exclaimed Marjolaine, astonished -at her violence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well!" cried Ruth, still more sharply. "It -seems to me the whole house is bewitched—that -ever I should say such a thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine grew more and more surprised. -"Oh! I thought you were so happy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm happy enough," snapped Ruth, "because -I 'm not a fool. But what with that -feller upstairs, and Barbara down, a body has -no peace of her life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, what could she mean? Of course Mr. Pringle -was upstairs, and of course Barbara was -downstairs. How could that perfectly natural -state of things affect the peace of Miss Ruth's life?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," said Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha' n't you noticed anything? No. I -s'pose you 're too young. Don't know sheeps' -eyes when you see 'em!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What on earth had sheeps' eyes come into -the story for?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sheeps' eyes?" Marjolaine asked, utterly -puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'T is n't for me to say anything," Miss Ruth -continued, "but with him mooning about the -house, like"—words failed her—"like I don't -know what; and her moping, like a hen with -the pip, it's enough to give a body the -fantoddles—as my poor, dear mother used to say."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 92%" id="figure-382"> -<span id="it-s-enough-to-give-a-body-the-fantoddlesas-my-poor-dear-mother-used-to-say"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""IT'S ENOUGH TO GIVE A BODY THE FANTODDLES, AS MY POOR DEAR MOTHER USED TO SAY"" src="images/img-132.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"IT'S ENOUGH TO GIVE A BODY THE FANTODDLES, AS MY POOR DEAR MOTHER USED TO SAY"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine suddenly saw light. Here, under -her very eyes, was another romance, like her -own—only, of course, on an infinitely lower -plane, because it held no thread of tragedy—and -she had been blind to it. This was -lovely! But she must make sure. She turned -to Miss Ruth and asked eagerly—"Are they—are -they fond of each other?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth quite unnecessarily bit off another -cotton-end. "I don't know!" she cried crossly; -but at once added, "Yes, of course they are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was more puzzled than ever. -"Then, why don't they say so?" she asked, -quite simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I want to know," said Miss Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lovers who might be perfectly happy, kept -apart for want of a word, thought Marjolaine. -How wicked, and how silly! "You should speak -to Mr. Basil," she said, with all the gravity of -her nineteen years and of her bitter experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me!" cried Miss Ruth. "Bless your dear -heart, he 'd up and run away. He 's that shy -a body can't look at him but he wants to -hide in a cupboard. He 's got it into his silly -head he is n't good enough. As if anybody'd -notice his shoulder!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," said Marjolaine, pensively, "if -Barbara showed him she liked him—Why -don't you speak to her? Sympathetically."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I did, just now. Told her she was an -idiot. What did she do? She burst out crying, -and went and shut herself up with that parrot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" sighed Marjolaine, with a pathetic -look at the Gazebo, where she had been so -happy so short a time, so long ago, "Ah, yes! -The old love!" How well she understood!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old frying-pan!" cried Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruth!" exclaimed Marjolaine, deeply -shocked. "The poor parrot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that bird!—Marjory!" said Ruth, -firmly, as if the time had come to utter a bitter -but necessary truth at all costs, "Marjory, -there are times when I 'd give anybody a -two-penny bit to wring that bird's neck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine had not been listening to her. -The mention of the parrot had set her thoughts -working; her face suddenly lighted up with the -inspired look of one who has just conceived an -epoch-making idea. "Ruth!" she cried, running -up to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth naturally thought she was shocked. -"Well, I don't care! I mean it. If it was n't -for that bird—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine had snatched Ruth's needlework -away and was trying to drag her from -the seat by both hands. "I was n't thinking of -the bird! Yes, I was thinking of the bird, but -I was n't thinking what you thought I was -thinking. Oh! what nonsense you make me talk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whatever's got into the child's head?" -cried Miss Ruth, swept off her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come!" insisted Marjolaine. "Quick! -Come, and tell Barbara I want her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want her for?" asked Miss -Ruth, struggling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must n't tell you yet, she may refuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless us and save us!" cried Miss Ruth, now -on her feet, and struck by the change in -Marjolaine's appearance, "now your cheeks are -glowing again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman said they would!" laughed Marjolaine. -Positively, for the moment she had -forgotten her sorrows. "Come along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait! My mouth 's full of pins!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing the two ladies under the tree, Sir Peter -Antrobus had come out, anxious for a little -conversation. He was much disappointed when -he observed they were leaving the lawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going in, just as I'm coming out?" said -he, reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," laughed Marjolaine on the top step, -and looking up at the threatening sky, "like -the little people in the weather cottages: you -come out for the rain; and I go in for the -sunshine." Which, of course was extremely -inaccurate, but the correct statement would have -spoiled her meaning entirely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are the peas coming on, Admiral?" -asked Miss Ruth, for the sake of politeness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter's temper was already ruffled by the -disappointment of his sociable intentions. Now -he burst out, "How the doose can they come -on, Ma'am, when that everlasting cat roots 'em -up every night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I am sorry to say, Miss Ruth laughed as he -disappeared into the house. The Admiral came -towards Sempronius, who was now wide awake -and watching the Eyesore's float with lively -interest; he shook his fist at him—I mean the -Admiral shook his fist at the cat—with comic -fury, and found himself shaking his fist at Lord -Otford, who had just turned the corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shaking your fist at me, Peter?" asked Lord -Otford, with a grim laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hulloa, Otford!" cried the Admiral, feeling -rather foolish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, he was not particularly pleased -to see Otford at that precise moment. Only -half-an-hour ago he had surprised Marjolaine's -confidence. He had not had time to think the -matter over and make up his mind, and now that -he found himself without warning face to face -with Jack's father, he was torn between two -conflicting emotions. On the one hand he felt -he ought to tell Otford about Jack and Marjolaine. -That was his plain duty; but it was one -of those forms of duty which everybody tries -to find some plausible excuse for evading. He -had surprised Marjolaine's confidence: she had -not given it voluntarily. On the other hand he -suspected that Jack's breach of faith in not -coming near the Walk for a whole week was -due to some interference on the part of his father, -and he was so fond of Marjolaine, and so jealous -of the status of the Walk, that he resented such -interference even before he knew whether Otford -had interfered. His keen eye saw, even while -they were shaking hands, that there was -something on his friend's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are you?" asked Lord Otford, perfunctorily. -"Have you a moment to spare?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All day; thanks to this confounded -government," growled the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford plunged into the thick of his -business at once. "I am in great trouble," he -blurted out, in the tone of a man who expects -sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He didn't get it. "Damme! you're in -trouble once a week!" said the Admiral. "Here! -Come into the Gazebo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford started at the word. "The -Gazebo?—Ha! Very appropriate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh? Why?" asked Sir Peter, sitting on the -seat in the summer-house and making room for his -friend beside him. Lord Otford produced a -crumpled letter from his pocket. "Here! Read this!" -said he, thrusting it under Sir Peter's nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't," said the latter, curtly, "haven't -my spy-glass on me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, listen." Lord Otford read the letter -aloud, with ill-suppressed fury.—"'My lord—It -is my painful duty to inform your Lordship -that your Lordship's son, the Hon. John Sayle, -is carrying on a clandestine love-affair with -Mademoiselle Marjolaine Lachesnais, of -Pomander Walk—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral had grown purple in the face. -"Belay, there!" he roared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford took no notice, but went on -reading: "'Yesterday they were together for -an hour in the Gazebo—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral would have no more of it. -"When did you get that, and who sent it?" -he roared. The fact that the information was -true was quite outweighed by the implication -that an inhabitant of the Walk could have been -guilty of the lowest form of treachery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's signed, 'Your true Friend and Well-wisher,'" -said Lord Otford, "and I had it on Sunday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral could hardly speak. "Do you -mean to say that damned, anonymous, -Sabbath-breaking rag came from Pomander Walk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who sent it?" cried the Admiral, jumping -up and walking to and fro in a towering rage. -"Show me the white-livered scoundrel, and by -Jehoshaphat! I 'll break every bone in his -body!" He turned sharply towards Otford. "Is it a -man's writing, or a woman's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's vague: might be anybody's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was passing the houses of the -Walk in review. "Can't be -Sternroyd—Brooke-Hoskyn—Pringle—We 're none of us -anonymous slanderers." His eye fell on the Eyesore -with momentary suspicion. "Was it the Eyesore?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Eyesore?" repeated Lord Otford, not -understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That scare-crow, fishing. No; of course not. -He does n't know you, and I don't believe he -can write.—But, what of it, Jack? You're -not worried by that rubbish! Why, it's a pack -o' lies!" (Oh, Admiral, Admiral!) Lord Otford -tried to speak. "Don't interrupt!—I'm here -all the time. Nothing happens in Pomander -Walk that I don't know. Don't interrupt!—I -was here when Jack came last Saturday. He -went back in his boat before you could say -'Jack Robinson,' because Madame swooned!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wiped his brow, and had the grace to add -"Lord, forgive me!" as a silent prayer. After -all, he had told no lie. He had only omitted to -say how long Jack had been there before he -saw him. And as he did n't know, what could -he have said?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otford found his opportunity of speaking at -last. "Now, perhaps you 'll allow me to say -it's all true," he shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral shouted louder. "Do you take -this blackguard's word rather than mine?" he -roared, pointing to the letter. It was intolerable -he should be doubted, even if he were not telling -the whole truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You confounded old porcupine," Lord Otford -roared back at him, "Jack 's owned up to the -whole thing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" yelled the Admiral. "Don't shout -like that! D' ye want the whole Walk to -hear?—Sit down. Tell me again: quietly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I 'd read this letter, I taxed him with -it," said Lord Otford, "and he owned up. He -came here last Saturday: met the damned little -French gel—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack!" roared the Admiral, flaring up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll withdraw 'damned.' Sat an hour in -this infernal what-d'-ye-call-it, and thinks he 's -in love with her." Sir Peter was about to speak. -"Don't interrupt!—You know the Sayles when -their blood 's up. My blood was up. Jack's -confounded blood was up. You can imagine -the scene we had. He's as pig-headed and -obstinate as—as—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As his father," put in Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't interrupt!" roared Lord Otford. -"He's thrown over Caroline Thring—won't -hear of her." Sir Peter chuckled. "The -utmost I could get out of him was that he 'd wait -a week to make sure of what he calls his mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aha!" said Sir Peter, delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind! Puppy! All the week he's gone -about like a bear with a sore head! Had the -impudence to refuse to speak to me! This -morning he had the impudence to speak! And -what d' ye think he said?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serves ye right, whatever it was!" cried -Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford didn't hear him. "He said, -'The week 's up, and I 'm going to Pomander -Walk!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good lad!" roared Sir Peter, slapping his -thigh, and breaking into a loud guffaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" shouted Lord Otford, jumping up. -"You're mad! Think of what's at stake! -Ninety-thousand acres!—For the daughter of -a Frenchwoman from the Lord knows where. -Who was the gel's father?—Or, rather, who -was n't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack!" roared the Admiral, in a burst of -fury, jumping up in his turn and facing Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I withdraw!" cried Otford. "But think of -it!" He was looking at the Walk. In the -grey light of the coming shower the houses -were certainly not seen at their best. "Think -of it!" he said with a sweep of his cane -condemning the whole Walk to instant -annihilation. "An Otford taking his wife from -these—these—Almshouses!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was livid—apoplectic—hysterical. -Words failed him. His voice failed -him. He could only gasp, "Almshouses!—Pomander -Walk!—Almshouses!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford was alarmed at the effect his -words had produced. "There! there!" he cried, -almost conciliatorily, "I withdraw 'Almshouses!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Withdraw more, sir!" said the Admiral, -and for all his almost grotesque rage, there was -a ring in his voice which compelled respect. -"How dare you come here, abusing the sweetest, -brightest, most winsome—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you 're in love with her yourself!" -cried Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, damme, why not?—Take care how -you talk about innocent ladies you 've never -set eyes on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!" cried Otford, glad to get on -safer ground. "That's why I 'm here. You -are to present me to this Madame—whatever -her confounded name is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In your present temper?" roared Sir Peter, -whose own temper was at boiling point. "I'll -walk the plank first!" He pointed to Madame's -house. "There's her house: the white paint. -Go and pay your respects." He came close up -to Otford, and spoke straight into his face. -"Your respects, Jack! You 'll find you have to!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't force my way into the house, -unaccompanied, and you know it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then stay away, and be hanged!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford was nonplussed. He caught -sight of the Gazebo. "I 'll stay here," he said -doggedly, sitting down like a man who means -never to move again, "and if Jack shows his -nose—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral had begun to stride towards his -house. He came back and put his red face -round the side of the Gazebo. "I shall be -watching, sir!" this with blood-curdling calmness. -"And if you dare raise a disturbance, I 'll—" -he could not think of anything bad enough. -"I 'll—damme! I 'll set the Eyesore at you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stumped off towards his home again, -while Lord Otford sank back in his seat, folded -his arms, and said, "Ha!" with grim determination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment Jack came hurrying round -the corner and ran straight into the Admiral's -arms. At that fateful moment also Madame -must needs come out of her house. Fortunately -she was preoccupied and did not see the frantic -pantomime with which Sir Peter tried to explain -to Jack that his father was hidden in the Gazebo. -Madame called, "Marjolaine! Marjolaine!" As -we know, Marjolaine was with the Misses -Pennymint, and Madame received no answer. Lord -Otford heard her from his hiding-place. "Aha!" -he said to himself, "the mother!" and he sat up -at attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul!" whispered the Admiral, -hoarsely. "The father here, and the mother -there! Jack! Get away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame had turned to her house and was -calling her old servant. "Nanette!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack refused to budge. What he said I do not -know; but Sir Peter grew still more frantic. -Nanette appeared at the upstairs window. -"Quoi, Madame?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll be hanged if I stir!" said Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Où est donc Mademoiselle?" said Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Je ne sais pas, Madame." Madame went -back into her little garden, and looked into the -ground-floor window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come inside, then!" said Sir Peter to Jack. -But Jack saw the Eyesore, who was placidly -fishing, and a broad grin spread all over his face. -"No! Better idea!" he chuckled. He imparted -the idea to the horrified Admiral in a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame spoke to Nanette again. "Vite! -Allez voir si son chapeau est dans sa chambre!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nanette disappeared from the window, and -Madame stood impatiently looking up at it -awaiting her return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever Jack had said to the Admiral was -of such a nature as to fill that ancient salt with -horror. He threw up his arms, cried, "I wash -my hands of it!" and dashed into his house. Jack -quickly said something to the Eyesore which -caused the latter to fling his rod down with -alacrity, and, amazing to relate, he and Jack -hurried round the corner and out of sight -together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nanette reappeared with a huge Leghorn -straw hat. "Oui, Madame, voilà le chapeau de -Mademoiselle." Then, pointing to the Gazebo, -"Mademoiselle doit être au pavillon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Non," said Madame, "je viens de l'appeler." But -a sudden suspicion flashed across her mind. -Could Marjolaine be there with Jack, and afraid -to show herself? "Serait-il possible?"—she -cried, and came hurriedly towards the summer-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford had heard her conversation with -Nanette, and had risen; so that Madame found -herself abruptly face to face with her faithless -lover.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-old-lovers-meet-and-the-conspiracy-comes-to-a-head"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH OLD LOVERS MEET, AND THE -<br />CONSPIRACY COMES TO A HEAD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 42%" id="figure-383"> -<span id="chapter-ix-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter IX headpiece" src="images/img-145.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter IX headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Madame knew him at a glance. To -some extent she had been prepared -for his coming by Jack's previous visit. -As Jack was acquainted with Sir Peter, it was -quite likely Lord Otford was also, and nothing -was more probable than that he should come -to look up his old friend. Nevertheless this -sudden confrontation startled her, and she could -not suppress a little "Oh!" of surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford, on his part, was too much -occupied with his own anger, his outraged dignity, -to pay more than very superficial attention to -her. Moreover she had changed a great deal -more than he. He had left her, a mere strip of a -girl, and now she was a dignified and very -beautiful woman. He was not thinking of Lucy Pryor -at all at the moment, while her thoughts, if the -truth must be told, were full of the Jack Sayle -of old days. So they began their little duel with -unequal weapons. Madame was absolutely -self-possessed: Otford could not suppress a -certain amount of nervousness in the presence of -this calm and stately lady who was so utterly -different from anything he had expected. -However, he pulled himself together and put on his -grandest and most overwhelming manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am the trespasser," he said, with a -condescending bow, in answer to her startled cry. -She inclined her head very slightly, and turned -to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I detain you a moment?" said he, quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and half turned towards him. -"I am at a loss—" she said coldly, with raised -eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He explained. "I heard you calling your -daughter." Then, very stiffly, "I presume you -are Madame—ah—" he made pretence to -consult the anonymous letter; this haughty -person should know she was not of sufficient -importance for him even to remember her name, -"Madame Lachesnais."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame bowed almost imperceptibly and -something very like a mischievous smile lurked -in the corners of her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Lord Otford—" he gave his name quite -simply, as a gentleman should, yet he managed -to convey that it was a great name and that -he expected the announcement of it to make its -effect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame made a slight movement with her -hand as if she were brushing away something of -no moment whatever; as if she declined to -receive a name which could have no importance -for her; as if she did n't care whether his name were -Otford or Snooks. This disconcerted him. It -was a new experience, and it was unpleasant. -For the sake of something to say he pointed to -the seat under the tree. "Ah—pray be -seated." Madame saw the advantage she had already -gained. She spoke as she might have addressed -a poor beetle: "What you have to say can be of -so little consequence—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford flushed angrily. Here was he, -a great nobleman with a grievance, and this -totally insignificant woman was treating him -like a child! He spoke with some warmth. "I -beg your pardon! What I have to say is of the -utmost consequence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be surprised," said Madame—"and -I am waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford was still fuming. Her manner -was really most disconcerting. "You—you -make it somewhat difficult, ma'am," he blustered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing could stir her calmness. "Then why -give yourself the trouble?" she said; and again -moved as if to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray wait!" cried he, hastily. All the fine -outworks of sarcasm and irony which he had -elaborately prepared against this meeting had -vanished before the icy blast of her imperturbable -coolness. He was hot; he was uncomfortable. -He could only stammer, "The fact is—my foolish son—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame held up a delicate hand and stopped -him. "Ah!" she said, with a well-bred rebuke -of his excitement, "I can spare you any further -discomfort. Your son forced his acquaintance -on my daughter in my absence a week ago. Be -assured we are willing to overlook his lack of -manners. The circumstance need not be further -alluded to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was a nice thing! In those few words -she had turned the tables on him. Instead of -metaphorically grovelling in the dust at his feet -and entreating his pardon, she had become the -accuser, and he now found himself forced to -speak on the defensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be alluded to! I must explain!" he -cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No explanation or apology is required," she -went on implacably, "since under no circumstances -shall we allow the acquaintance to continue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was he on his head or his heels? These were -practically the very words he had meant to use. -This was the shell he had meant to hurl into the -enemy's camp, and here it was, exploding under -his own feet!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But my son has pledged his word to come -again, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she interrupted him. "Make yourself -easy on that score," she said; and now there -was even a note of contempt in her voice. "He -has broken his word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was my doing!" cried Lord Otford, -almost apologetically. "I persuaded him to -wait a week. I regret to say he means to come -to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," answered Madame, with the utmost -indifference, "Pomander Walk is public, and -we cannot prevent him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he 'll see your daughter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think not. Unless he breaks into the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon my soul, I believe he 'll go that -length!" What Lord Otford had intended should be a -menace, turned to an appeal. "That is where I -ask for your co-operation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked him up and down with -indignant protest. Really, he might have been -poor Snooks. "Pardon me," she said, "not -co-operation." She drew herself up and her eyes -flashed. "But I shall defend my own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid a peculiar stress on the word "defend," -which arrested his attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Defend'?" said he, with amazement. "What -do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked him straight in the face, and spoke -with intense feeling. "I mean, that no member -of your family is likely to cross my threshold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something so threatening, so avenging -in her voice, that he fell back a pace and said, -hushed, "You speak as though you nursed a -grudge against my family!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame smiled scornfully. "Oh! no grudge -whatever." Then she added slowly and very -quietly, "But I remember!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember what?" cried he, more and more -bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she did not answer. Then she -turned to him and spoke. "Am I so -changed—Jack Sayle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stared. "Indeed, ma'am—" then suddenly -he saw and remembered. He could only -exclaim, "Good God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you still puzzled?" she asked, with that -mysterious smile of hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy Pryor," she assented. She bowed and -turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford was stunned. "No—no," he -stammered. "Stop!—this alters the case entirely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned on him with raised eyebrows. "How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was entirely at a loss. He had spoken on -the spur of the moment. All the past had -suddenly risen up before him, all his youth had come -flooding back. The birds sang in the old vicarage -garden; his experiences, his worldly honours, -sank from him, and he was a lad again, deeply in -love; and here stood his first sweetheart—his -only sweetheart—the woman who meant youth -and spring-time and all the ideals of boyhood. -He bowed his head. "I—I don't know. I am -stunned!—After all these years!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was merciless. Also she was on her guard. -She must not let herself be defeated by -sentimentality. As she looked at him and saw him -standing humbled before her, a still small voice -in her heart cried out in pity. That would never -do. He had blighted her youth; his son had -hurt Marjolaine. She must remember. She -must be firm. So she silenced the appealing -voice and spoke with an admirable assumption -of lightness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what does it all amount to? After all -these years Lord Otford meets Madame Lachesnais. -These are not the Jack Sayle and the Lucy -Pryor who loved, years ago. He does not meet -a broken-hearted woman pining for her lost -girlhood, but," she drew herself up and her -voice grew firmer, "but one who has been a -happy wife, and a happy mother—and a mother -who will defend her daughter's happiness." Then -the mockery returned, intensified. "So -there is no cause for such a tragic countenance, -my lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otford winced. He was humbled; he was -angry with himself, and angry with her. -"Madam," said he, "I am well rebuked. I -wish you a very good day!" He made her a -very low bow, and turned on his heel. Inwardly -he was raging, and when, at the corner of the -Walk, he ran right into the Eyesore who was -innocently returning to his fishing, that -unfortunate creature received the full force of his -anger in a muttered but none the less hearty -curse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame stood where he had left her. Now -that he was gone, she realised how the meeting -had shaken her. Twenty years, and more, and -he was scarcely changed! The same lithe figure; -the same handsome face, with the bold eyes; -the same appeal which had drawn her heart to -him in the old days. The long interval which -had elapsed, with all its varied adventures; her -marriage, the Revolution, her husband's death, -seemed merely an episode. She and Jack had -parted yesterday, so it seemed, and to-day they -had met again. She was dismayed at realising -the sway he still held. The same sway as ever. -It took the strength out of her limbs. She leaned -against the summer-house in distress. This -was unbearable. She must fight. The old pain -must not be allowed to seize her in its grip. Jack -Sayle was dead, buried and forgotten, and she -would not let him come to life again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Mrs. Poskett had opened her -upstairs window and was leaning out. The sky -was very threatening; there was going to be a -thunder-storm; and there crouched that -foolish cat of hers, oblivious of the weather, -watching the Eyesore. "Sempronius!" she called. -"Puss! Puss! Puss!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sempronius had more urgent business -than attending to his mistress's voice. A miracle -had happened: the Eyesore had caught a fish! -Sempronius looked on with eager interest as the -Eyesore disengaged his prey from the hook and -laid it on the grass. Yes; he would go in, said -Sempronius to himself, making sure that the -downstairs window of his mistress's house was -open; he would go in presently, when he had -safely stalked that fish. Not before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral also had seen the skies darken. -It was time to take in the thrush. So he leant -out of his upstairs window to unhook the osier -cage. His window and Mrs. Poskett's were so -close together that—well—the Admiral and -the widow could, at a pinch, have kissed if they -had been so minded. But nothing was further -from, the Admiral's thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sempronius!" screamed Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" chuckled the Admiral, "it's no use -calling him, ma'am. He 's got his eye on the fish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say the Eyesore's caught -one!" cried Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral laughed as he looked at the -Eyesore. Laughed more than the occasion seemed -to justify. "Ay, ay! he's wonderfully patient -and persistent!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The widow's face, as he leant out to see the -fish, was very near the Admiral's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Astonishing what patience and persistence 'll -do, Admiral," said she, coquettishly. She -withdrew quickly and closed her window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was puzzled. What did she mean? -But he shook off his forebodings. He turned to -where the Eyesore, buried more than usual in -his horrible old hat, was putting on new bait, -and gave a low whistle. The Eyesore signalled -to him to be quiet and at that moment he -became aware of Madame, who was moving away -from the Gazebo. "Gobblessmysoul! Madame!" -he muttered to himself with inexplicable -confusion, and hastily withdrew out of sight with -his thrush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Barbara Pennymint came hopping down -her steps, followed by Marjolaine. Madame had -recovered her self-possession. "Ah!" she cried, -seeing Marjolaine, "I was a little alarmed about -you. Did you not hear me call?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Maman chérie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame turned to Barbara. "Don't let her -stay out if it rains." And with a pleasant nod -to the two girls she moved into her house. She -had need to be alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine and Barbara locked their arms -round each others' waists and came across the -lawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara turned up her pretty nose. "The -Eyesore looks more revolting than ever!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dreadful," assented Marjolaine, with a -shudder. At this instant the Eyesore caught -another fish! and Marjolaine gave a cry of -surprise. Sempronius sat and watched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's he doing now?" asked Barbara, in -a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine looked. Then she covered Barbara's -eyes with her hand. "Don't look!" and -in a tragic whisper, "He's putting on a worm!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" cried Barbara, with a shiver of disgust. -They came down to the elm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was impossible," said Marjolaine, "to -talk in Ruth's presence, with Doctor Johnson -screaming in the next room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest," answered Barbara confidentially, -"shall I confess that sometimes that bird—" -she broke off—"but no! it were disloyal. Only, -if Charles had given me a lock of his hair, -perhaps it would have made less noise. Yet, now -I think of it, that is a selfish wish, for he had been -scalped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dreadful!" cried Marjolaine. But she -was full of her great idea, and went on at once. -"Barbara, were you very much in love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara's face grew very serious. "Dearest," -she said reproachfully, "is that quite a delicate -question?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Marjolaine, "I mean, are you -still as much in love as ever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara avoided her eyes. But she spoke -with almost exaggerated feeling. "Dearest! -Do you think love can change?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine thought a moment. I suppose -she was consulting her own heart. Then she -spoke very firmly. "No! I don't think so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do I not hear the sound of my darling's -voice every time Doctor Johnson yells? Is not -that enough to keep the flame of love alive even -in the ashes of a heart however dead? Oh! if -only that innocent fowl had been present when -Charles used different language!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But did he?" asked Marjolaine innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sometimes wonder," answered Barbara, -deep in thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine felt she had said a tactless thing. -She must try to soften it. "Perhaps the loss of -his hair—" she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," assented Barbara. "But he concealed -the honourable scar under a lovely wig." She -turned her eyes fondly to Basil's window from -which the familiar passage from the slow -movement of the Kreutzer Sonata came throbbing. -"And—oh, dearest!—can any physical infirmity -affect true love?" she cried rapturously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she was coming to the point Marjolaine -had been insidiously leading up to. Marjolaine -watched her closely. "I suppose not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am quite sure it cannot!" cried Barbara -with a burst of enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine took both Barbara's hands in hers -and forced her to face her. She spoke very -earnestly. "Barbara, why are you quite sure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara instantly fell into a pretty state -of confusion. "Dearest!—how searching you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me!" insisted Marjolaine, "why are you -quite sure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara looked this way and that; toyed -with the lace on Marjolaine's sleeve; and said -quite irrelevantly, "Dearest—did your mother -match those lovely silks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was not to be put off. "Mr. Basil -plays the violin beautifully," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara fluttered exactly like a sparrow -taking a sand-bath. She hopped all round -Marjolaine. "Oh, dearest!" she chirped. "Oh, you -wicked dearest! You have guessed my secret!" -Then, if I may put it that way, she perched on -Marjolaine's finger and pecked her on each cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was sure before I guessed!" laughed Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore caught another fish; and, what -was equally astonishing, for the first time in -his life, he moved from his accustomed place -and came nearer the girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara put on as solemn a face as she could -contrive. "Promise you will never tell a living -soul?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look!" cried Marjolaine, "the Eyesore's -caught another fish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor darling!" exclaimed Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine gave her a horrified look. "You -are not in love with the Eyesore, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I meant the fish!" explained Barbara, "to -be drawn out of the watery element."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said Marjolaine, wisely, "that comes -of a fondness for worms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Worms!" repeated Barbara, lugubriously. -"Ah, worms!—I shall let the worm i' the bud -feed on my damaged cheek."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two were now sitting on the bench under -the elm, and twittering together like little -love-birds. The Eyesore came nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barbara," said Marjolaine, with meaning, -"suppose Mr. Basil's cheek is being fed on, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest, that is impossible," said Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine sat nearer and spoke more -confidentially. "Suppose I know it is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara pushed her away and looked at her. -"You wonderful child!" Then she added, -shortly, "Then why does n't he speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose he 's too shy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara appealed to the universe. "Oh! are -n't men silly?"—She luxuriated in her sense -of tragedy. "Then we must look and long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine breathed into her ear, "But -suppose a third person spoke!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" exclaimed Barbara, with delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" said Marjolaine, rather shocked. -"That would not do at all. I could n't." The -Eyesore was very near them. Marjolaine saw -him. "Hush!" she whispered, and drew -Barbara away. "Hush! The Eyesore!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara looked from her to the Eyesore and -back again with bewilderment. "You don't -mean he 's to be Cupid's messenger!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine laughed. "No, no. Listen." She -sank her voice to a mysterious whisper. In -spite of her own sorrow she was enjoying -herself immensely. "Listen, and try not to -scream." Barbara quivered with excitement. Marjolaine -went on, "Doctor Johnson talks, does n't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara looked at her in amazement. "Doctor -John—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he learns easily?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let Basil hear it from him!" said Marjolaine, -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear what?" almost screamed Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine laughingly took her by the -shoulders and shook her. "Oh, you little goose!" -she cried. Then she added, very deliberately and -clearly, "Teach the parrot to say—'Barbara -loves you!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara did, I assure you, leap into the air, -and Marjolaine had her hand over her mouth -only just in time to stifle a scream which would -have brought the entire Walk to its doors and -windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Barbara was seized with instant remorse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put Marjolaine away from her with a -gesture which would have done credit to -Mrs. Siddons. She spoke in a tone of mingled -heroism and reproach: "Charles's only gift, turned -to such uses! Oh, Marjory!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was quite unabashed. "Would n't -Charles be pleased to know his gift had been -the means of making you happy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From what I can remember of him, I should -say decidedly not," said Barbara, rather snappishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore was now close to the Gazebo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look!" cried Marjolaine. "The Eyesore's -invading the whole Walk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But little Barbara cared. Also her momentary -remorse had entirely vanished. If she had been -on a tree she would have hopped from branch -to branch. As it was she hopped all across the -lawn, clapping her hands and twittering. "Oh! -I can't bother about him!" she said. "Let him -invade! Oh! it's such a splendid idea! -Oh! you 're such a clever girl! Oh! my goodness, -what shall I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was anxious on the Eyesore's -account. Were the Admiral to see him, there -would be a terrible outburst of anger. "I'll -speak to him," she said, summoning all her -courage, "I 'll save him from Sir Peter's wrath!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! no!" cried Barbara; "stick to business! -Tell me more about the bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand by me!" entreated Marjolaine. "Hold -my hand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daren't! I'm frightened!" cried -Barbara, "and—and—and I want to begin -teaching the bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Treacherous Barbara!" cried Marjolaine. -But before the words were out of her mouth -Barbara had scuttled into the house and slammed -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And before Marjolaine had recovered from -that shock the Eyesore had hurled his hat and -smock into the Gazebo, and she was in Jack's arms.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-the-mysterious-lady-reappears-and-helps-jack-to-vanish"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH THE MYSTERIOUS LADY REAPPEARS -<br />AND HELPS JACK TO VANISH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-384"> -<span id="chapter-x-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter X headpiece" src="images/img-162.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter X headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Marjolaine was bewildered, overjoyed, -indignant, and too breathless -even to cry out. Jack swept her off -her feet. "Come into the Gazebo!" he cried, -and before she could remember where she was, -she was on the seat in the summer-house and -Jack had hold of both her hands and was saying -impetuously, "Marjory, I love you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sank into his arms, utterly overwhelmed. -It was as if a cyclone had whirled her away. -"I love you, I love you, little Marjory," he was -murmuring into her ear. "I loved you the first -moment I saw you under the elm!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under the elm! Her memory came rushing -back. She broke away from him and her eyes -flashed indignantly. "How dare you!" she -cried. "Oh! how dare you! I didn't know -what I was doing. Go away! You broke your -word! You never came!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I come now!" he answered, with a fine air -of injured innocence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a horrible disguise!" said she, looking -with disgust at the Eyesore's hat and smock -lying disconsolately where Jack had thrown -them, "and too late!" She broke into sobs. -"I have promised not to love you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom have you promised?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, dear Mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had stood up and was trying to look like -a dutiful daughter. But he made that very -difficult by seizing her hand and drawing her -down to his side again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you love me?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I did, I 've promised not to!" she replied -firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What 's the use of that, if you do?" Jack -did n't know it, but he had put a question which -undermined all first principles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> keep my word!" she replied, with great -dignity. It was no answer to his question, but -it saved her for the moment. The implied -reproach turned his position and forced him to be -on the defensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So do I!" he said, quite boldly and unabashed: -so unabashed that she could only stare at him -in amazement and cry "Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Differently," he explained. "I told my -father; and I promised I 'd stay away a week, -to make sure. I 've made sure, and I 've come. -Is n't that keeping my word?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was shaken, and he had stated -his case so cunningly that she could not, on the -spur of the moment, put her finger on the weak -point—the truth being, that she did not want -to. "It seems so, when you tell it, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do they want you to marry somebody -else?" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they want me to!" and he added with -modest but conscious virtue, "but I refused."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!" cried Marjolaine, remembering -all the Admiral had innocently let drop. "You 're -a great man; by-and-by you 'll live in marble -halls; and you never said a word about it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang it all!" cried Jack, protesting with -all his might, "I told you my name! I can't -go about shouting I 'm a lord's son!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine had not done. "And you 're -going to marry a great lady who owns half a -county and goes about doing good. The Hon—Hon—" -what a nuisance it was that she -could not keep her sobs down!—"the Honourable -Caroline Thring!—Oh, does n't it sound -horrid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm not going to marry her!" Jack almost -shouted. "And she does n't want to marry me; -and there 's only one girl in the world for me, -and that's you—you—you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to draw her down again, but she -resisted. Caroline Thring was not the only -obstacle. "Jack," she said, with tragic solemnity, -"I 'm the one girl in the world you can never -marry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her manner was so intense, that even Jack -was, for the moment, awed. "You speak as -if you meant it!" he said, staring at her in -astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do!" Her manner grew more and more -solemn. She looked like the Tragic Muse, and -I am not sure she did not rather enjoy the -impression she was creating. Her voice rang deep -and hollow. "We are fated to part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why on earth—?" cried Jack, almost frightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a terrible secret," she answered. Then -she suddenly sat down beside him. "Sit close! -Oh, closer!" Now she was a child again, -revelling in a good story. "Listen. Your father -loved my mother when they were both very -young—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" cried Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'M. And he went on loving her for years -and years and years! And then he left her for -ever, just as you left me last Saturday; and went -and married the Honourable Caroline Thring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried Jack, utterly bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well—same thing—some other great lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack gave a low whistle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Maman 's never forgotten it, just as I -never should. And that's why she fainted when -she heard your name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack whistled again. Then a new idea occurred -to him. "That accounts for my father's -temper just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was puzzled. "Just now?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I landed, he was here with your mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" cried Marjolaine, astonished and -frightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Peter told me," Jack went on. "It was -a close shave. I had just time to borrow the -fisherman's coat and hat. When my father -came away he was perfectly furious. He did n't -know me, but he swore at me horribly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine nodded wisely. "You see! -Maman had been telling him exactly what she -thought about him. Oh, Jack, they are enemies -and we must part forever." She stood up and -resumed her finest tragedy-queen manner. "It -is what they call a blood-feud!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack sprang to his feet. "Then we must -marry to wipe it out!" he cried. "Marjory, -we must fly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fly—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fly!—run away!—elope!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave Maman—!" cried Marjolaine, very -properly shocked. "I could n't do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'd have to if we were married," he argued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afterwards, perhaps," answered the ever-ready -Marjolaine, "but not before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack thought he would clinch the matter. -"We'll be married at once. Then it'll be -afterwards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, no!!" cried Marjory. "It's no -use." She turned to him with pretty appeal. -"Don't ask me, will you?" Then she went on -in a tone of middle-aged common-sense: -"Besides, we can't be married at once. In your -stupid England, the parson has to ask the -congregation three times whether they have any -objection. As if they could n't make up their -minds the first time! and as if it was any of -their business at all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Banns—! Hang!" said Jack, scratching -his head. That helped him. "I know!" he -cried, "Licence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't ask me!" She caressed his coat-collar -coaxingly. "You won't ask me, will you? -What is a licence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Jack, with an air of profound -knowledge and experience, "You go to a Bishop, and he -gives you a document, and then you go to the -nearest church—and—and—there you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe you're there at all," she -said, pouting. She turned away in despair. -"Oh, it's no use!" But she turned back with -new hope. "Do you know any Bishops?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not one," said Jack, ruefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her head rested on his shoulder, and made a -prop for his. "It's discouraging!" they both -sighed, sinking on the seat in the Gazebo, and -looking as woe-begone as the Babes in the Wood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down came the rain, pattering on the leaves -of the elm. The Eyesore had come back, -hatless and in his shirt sleeves, and had -executed a brief dance of delight over the three -fish Jack had caught for him. He had only -got back just in time to avert disaster, for -Sempronius, seeing the Walk deserted, had been on -the very point of raiding the fish. The Eyesore -sat on his box and resumed his melancholy sport, -resigned to the loss of his outer garment, -oblivious of the rain, but keeping a wary eye on -the cat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Reverend Doctor Sternroyd emerged -from his house. I say emerged, because it was -a slow and difficult manoeuvre. He was loaded -as usual. His green umbrella occupied his right -arm, while his left encircled a number of ancient -tomes; so he had to come through his door -sideways and down his steps backwards, and -the gate presented a new and complicated -problem. Then he discovered it was raining, -and, of course, he tried to open his umbrella -while he was still under the arch of his gate. -At the best of times the opening of that -umbrella was a matter of diplomacy and patience. -You did not open it just when you wanted to, -but only when it was willing. In a wind it would -open itself and turn itself inside out; but in a -shower it needed coaxing. Its ribs all went in -different directions and it required the greatest -skill to induce anything approaching unanimity. -The chances were that by the time you had got -the umbrella open, the shower had ceased and -the sun was shining; and as it was just as -difficult to close it, you probably gave up, and -resigned yourself to looking eccentric.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Reverend Doctor got inextricably mixed -up with his books, his half-open umbrella, and -the gate. He felt he must use strong language. -"Tut, tut!" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine heard him. "Hush!" she whispered, -warningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She peeped round the edge of the Gazebo. -"The Reverend Doctor Sternroyd coming out -of his gate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A parson?" Jack almost shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George!" exclaimed Jack; and while -she was gasping, "What are you going to do?" -he had rushed across the lawn and slapped the -Doctor on the back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me!" cried the startled Doctor, as his -books slid from under his arm and the umbrella -opened with a report like a gun's. "Dear me! -Tut, tut!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, Doctor," Jack apologised, -picking up the books and helping the -parson through the gate. Then he seized him by -the sleeve and dragged him bewildered and -protesting to the Gazebo.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-385"> -<span id="he-seized-him-by-the-sleeve-and-dragged-him-bewildered-and-protesting-to-the-gazebo"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="HE SEIZED HIM BY THE SLEEVE, AND DRAGGED HIM, BEWILDERED AND PROTESTING, TO THE GAZEBO" src="images/img-170.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">HE SEIZED HIM BY THE SLEEVE, AND DRAGGED HIM, BEWILDERED AND PROTESTING, TO THE GAZEBO</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sempronius! Sempronius!" cried Mrs. Poskett, -appearing at her window. "Come in, you -bad cat, you 'll get wet through!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sempronius was deeply engrossed, and -Mrs. Poskett closed her window in despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Jack had forced the outraged -Doctor down on to the seat, Marjolaine had -relieved him of the umbrella, and Jack had -tossed his books into a corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Doctor," said Jack, "here, -between us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my dear young friends—" began the -Doctor, protestingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd get your feet wet, Sir, and catch -cold. My name's Jack Sayle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine interrupted him. "His name is -the Honourable John Sayle," she explained with -great importance, "and he's the only son of -Lord Otford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had touched a spring. If there was one -thing the Doctor was more familiar with than -another, it was heraldry. He started off like -an alarm clock, and all the exclamations and -gesticulations of the impatient lovers were incapable -of stopping him.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 60%" id="figure-386"> -<span id="he-started-off-like-an-alarm-clock"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="HE STARTED OFF LIKE AN ALARM CLOCK" src="images/img-150.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">HE STARTED OFF LIKE AN ALARM CLOCK</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otford: or, on a fesse azure between in chief, -a sinister arm embowed and couped at the -shoulder fessewise vested of the second, holding -in the hand proper a martel gules, and in base a -cerf regardant passant vert, three martlets of -the first. Crest: out of a crest-coronet a blasted -oak—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" cried Marjory, stopping her ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—motto: Sayle and Return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doctor!" shouted Jack, shaking him, "when -you 've quite done, we want to get married; and -you 've got to get a licence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy and girl were leaning excitedly -across him. They spoke alternately and -breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," said Marjolaine, "we 're in a -dreadful hurry and Maman won't hear of it—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my father wants me to marry Caroline -Thring, which is wicked—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And of course I'll never do it, and it's no -use asking me, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're going to be married anyhow, and if -you don't help we shall run away—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you would n't like to be the cause of -our doing that, would you?" She had slipped -to her knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we love each other—" Jack also was -on his knees, facing her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very, very dearly!" they both concluded. -And to the horror of the learned Doctor, their -lips met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, indignant. "I am deeply shocked. -Profoundly surprised. I shall make a point of -informing Madame Lachesnais and his lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack leapt to his feet. "Oh, I say, you can't, -you know!" he protested, "because we took you -into our confidence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The antiquary was as nearly angry as he had -ever been in his life. "I did not ask for your -confidence!" he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—you've got it!" said Jack, conclusively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine laid her hand on the Doctor's arm -and looked up at him with great pathetic -eyes—the stricken deer. "And, Doctor, dear—think -of when you were young!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh?" said the Doctor, startled. "How did -you know?—And if I did run away with my -blessed Araminta—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!—there, you see!" cried Jack, delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—I had every excuse," protested the Doctor. -"My blessed Araminta was deeply interested in -flint arrowheads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I 'm sure you were very, very happy," -said Marjolaine, laying her hand on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor looked at her. The Doctor dug -his snuff-box out of a remote waistcoat-pocket. -The Doctor took snuff. The Doctor drew out a -great, brown handkerchief. The Doctor blew -his nose. His snuff was very strong, and had -made his eyes water. Finally he said, "Ah, -my child, she has been dead thirty years!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Doctor Sternroyd!" murmured Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled himself together. "But this is so -harebrained! A special licence is not so easily -had. His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my goodness! an </span><em class="italics">Arch</em><span>bishop!"—cried -Marjolaine, deeply impressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Archbishop of Canterbury requires -excellent reasons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've told you," cried Jack impatiently, "we -love each other!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The antiquary could not help smiling. "I -fear that would hardly satisfy his Grace!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wicked old gentleman!" pouted Marjolaine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll find a reason," said Jack, confidently; -and after a moment's thought: "Here you are! -My leave 's up in a month: only just time for the -honeymoon!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm!" said the Antiquary. "Even that -does not seem to me sufficiently convincing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had risen, and now turned and looked at -them as they sat watching him eagerly and -hopefully. They looked so charming, so young, so -innocent, and so deeply in love with each other, -that the Doctor was touched. For years he -had been buried in his musty old books, and -suddenly he was confronted with life, with youth -starting out on its career. It would be good to -make these children happy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have an idea," he said, with a humorous -twinkle. "The Archbishop, who is a very good -friend of mine, is forming a collection of -antiquities. Now—" he searched in all his -pockets—"I found a rare Elizabethan tobacco-pipe -here the other day." He produced it and -polished it carefully on his sleeve. Marjolaine, I am -sorry to say, hid her face in her handkerchief, -and was attacked by a fit of coughing which -shook her from head to foot. "Perhaps," -continued the Doctor, eyeing the pipe with fond -regret, "perhaps if I were to offer that to his -Grace, it might oil the wheels." He sighed deeply. -"Yes!—It will be a wrench, but I 'll take it to -Lambeth to-morrow—Ah, no! To-morrow -is Sunday!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dash it!" cried Jack, petulantly. "What a -way Sunday has of coming in the wrong part of -the week!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" said Doctor Sternroyd, reprovingly, -"Monday, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you'll marry us the same day?" asked Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" replied the Doctor. "The day -after, perhaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine ticked the days off on her fingers. -"Saturday—Sunday—Monday—Tuesday—! -Four whole days!—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lovers looked at each other disconsolately, -and together sighed, "Oh, dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what am I to do till then?" cried Jack. -"I daren't go home. My father 's quite capable -of having me kidnapped and sent to my ship!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine clung to him with a little cry. "Oh, -Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to Doctor Sternroyd with sudden -decision. "Doctor! You must give me a bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor failed to understand. "Give you—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doctor Sternroyd threw up his hands in -protest. "And incur your noble father's -displeasure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary. He'd be deeply grateful -to you for showing me hospitality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," sighed the Antiquary, shaking his -head, "you'll find me poor company, young -gentleman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's only for two days," said Jack lightly. -"We can play chess." He turned to Marjolaine. -"And every evening we'll meet in the Gazebo. -I 'll whistle so:—" he executed a fragment which -Marjolaine repeated, more or less—"and you 'll -come out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doctor Sternroyd was troubled; but this young -man had a way with him. "Ah, well!" he sighed, -sitting down and motioning them to sit beside -him. "Now you must give me full particulars: -your names, ages, professions, if any—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How exciting!" cried Marjolaine, clapping -her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Antiquary picked up one of the books. -"'</span><em class="italics">Epicteti quæ supersunt Dissertationes</em><span>,'" he -read, affectionately. "A pencil! Now, -Mr. Sayle—" So they bent their heads together, and -were very busy, giving the dates of birthdays, -and all their histories, which Doctor Sternroyd -meticulously entered on the fly-leaf of the tome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rain had ceased. The sun was again -shining brightly, turning the rain-drops on the -foliage of the elm into diamonds. The air -sparkled, newly washed. The Eyesore in his corner -had, for some time, been showing symptoms of -discomfort. With appetites refreshed by the -shower, the fish were displaying a lively interest -in his bait. To be sure, they refused to swallow -his hook; but they nibbled at his worm with -great zest, and kept his float bobbing up and -down in a manner which made it impossible for -him to attend to anything else. Yet out of the -corner of his eye he could see Sempronius, -stretched at full length, creeping slowly, almost -imperceptibly, but with deadly determination, -towards the fish Jack had caught.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore said "Hoo!" but Sempronius -took no notice. The Eyesore kicked; but -Sempronius was out of reach. The Eyesore shook -his disengaged fist; but Sempronius only smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the sun came out, out came Mr. Jerome -Brooke-Hoskyn, as resplendent as the sun. He -was truly wonderful to behold: his magnificent -beaver hat poised at an improbable angle, his -buckles glittering, and his vast person imposing -under the countless capes of his driving-coat. -Just as he had swaggered to his gate he was -evidently arrested by a voice from the upper -chamber.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 52%" id="figure-387"> -<span id="as-the-sun-came-out-out-came-mr-jerome-brooke-hoskyn-as-resplendent-as-the-sun"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="AS THE SUN CAME OUT, OUT CAME MR. JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, AS RESPLENDENT AS THE SUN" src="images/img-176.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">AS THE SUN CAME OUT, OUT CAME MR. JEROME BROOKE-HOSKYN, AS RESPLENDENT AS THE SUN</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh? What?" he asked peevishly, making an -ear-trumpet of his hand. "Late home?—Yes; I -told you I should be. Pitt is to speak, and when -once he's on his legs the Lord only knows when -he'll stop. But I have the doorkey. What? -Yes, I did! I found the keyhole easily enough, -but the key was twisted. What?" He grew -purple with indignation. "Sober!—Reely, -Selina!—" The Walk was astir, as he observed to his -confusion. "Dammit, Ma'am, they'll hear you -howling all round the Walk!" He turned just -in time to face Miss Ruth, who had come sailing -up to him. Everybody was either at their -open windows, or had come out to taste the fresh -air. The Admiral was fussing with his sweet -peas; Jim was helping him; Mrs. Poskett was -watching the Admiral; Basil Pringle was -struggling with the Kreutzer Sonata; Barbara had -left Doctor Johnson and was leaning out of the -lower window; listening to Basil. Even the -servants were out and about; only Madame was -missing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth addressed Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"Off to the whirl of fashion so early?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brooke-Hoskyn did his best to edge her away -from the house while he nervously pulled on his -buckskin gloves. "H'm, it is a long way to the -City," he explained, "my good friends, the -Goldsmiths' Company—a banquet to the -Chinese Ambassador—my shay is waiting round the -corner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth tried to pass him. "I'll go and -sit with your wife," she said, with the kindest -intention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On no account!" he answered, not too politely, -interposing his solid bulk between her and the -gate. Seeing her bridle, he corrected himself. -"Most kind of you, to be sure; but—ah—not -just now. I left the dear soul asleep, and -dreaming of the angels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth turned away disappointed, and her -attention was at once diverted by the Eyesore's -extraordinary antics. Sempronius, that intelligent -cat, clearly comprehending that the fisherman -could not leave his rod, was preparing to -spring at the fish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! look at the Eyesore!" cried Miss Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haha!" laughed Brooke-Hoskyn. "Sempronius -is about to snatch his fish! Observe -his antics! Reely, most amusing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Gazebo the lovers and Doctor Sternroyd -had finished, and the Doctor closed the -book with a sigh of satisfaction. "There! I -think that's all!" They prepared to leave their -shelter, unconscious of the excitement in the -Walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment the Eyesore, driven to -desperation by the threatened loss of his fish, -sprang at Sempronius with uncontrollable fury, -seized the animal by the scruff of his neck, -and—</span><em class="italics">horresco referens</em><span>—hurled him into the river. -Then he picked up his fish, and bolted.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 98%" id="figure-388"> -<span id="the-eyesore-seized-the-animal-by-the-scruff-of-his-neck-and-hurled-him-into-the-river"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="THE EYESORE SEIZED THE ANIMAL BY THE SCRUFF OF HIS NECK, AND HURLED HIM INTO THE RIVER" src="images/img-182.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">THE EYESORE SEIZED THE ANIMAL BY THE SCRUFF OF HIS NECK, AND HURLED HIM INTO THE RIVER</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth screamed; Barbara screamed; Nanette -and Jane screamed; while Mrs. Poskett waved -her arms and screamed louder than any of them: -"Sempronius!—Save him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth turned wildly to Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"Save him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In these clothes!" cried he, much offended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had all forgotten the hero of the Battle -of Copenhagen. To fling his coat to Jim; to -seize the Eyesore's landing-net; to stumble -down the steps to the river; and to capture the -squirming cat, was the work of a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett had rushed out of her house -just in time to meet the Admiral bringing the -drenched cat up the steps again. In his open -window Basil struck up "See the Conquering -Hero Comes," and, while Marjolaine, Jack and -Doctor Sternroyd stood petrified in the Gazebo, -all the rest of the Walk formed an admiring -circle round the Admiral and Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your cat, Ma'am," said Sir Peter with the -simple dignity becoming to the doer of a great -deed, as he handed her the struggling and yelling -animal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what do you think she did? She -tossed—tossed!—the cat to Jim, and, exclaiming, "My -hero! My preserver!" flung her arms round the -Admiral's neck and kissed him on both cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at that precise moment, while the whole -Walk had gone frenzied with excitement, while -the Admiral was standing stupefied, only able -to ejaculate "Gobblessmysoul!" a great many -times in succession; at that precise moment -the gaunt Mysterious Lady entered the Walk, -followed by her gigantic footman. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -fled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ware pirate, Admiral!" shouted Jim. All -the women, except Mrs. Poskett, who was lying -half unconscious in the Admiral's arms, rushed -to their doors, where they stood, watching -further developments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Mysterious Lady had her </span><em class="italics">face-à-main</em><span> up, -and her disgusted stare wandered from the -excited women to the dishevelled group formed by -Mrs. Poskett and the Admiral. "What horrible -people!" she exclaimed. She bore down on Sir -Peter, who had managed to shake off his fair -burden, and stood panting with suppressed fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dreadful old man—" she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh?" cried the Admiral. "You, again! -Don't you speak to me! I'm dangerous!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three conspirators in the Gazebo were -listening with all their ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know whom you're addressing!" -said the Lady, haughtily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't, and I don't want to," answered the -Admiral, mopping his brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lady drew herself up to her full height. -"I am Caroline Thring!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Caroline—!" ejaculated the Admiral, who -had caught sight of Marjolaine and Jack. But -the situation was too much for him, and he sank -speechless on the seat under the elm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Caroline! Oh, my stars!" cried Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortunately the Honourable Caroline Thring -turned away from the Gazebo and examined -the houses, where all the women were standing -on guard, prepared to defend the doors with -their lives. Marjolaine had time to gather her -wits. She saw the Eyesore's smock and hat -lying where Jack had thrown them. "Put those -on! Quick!" she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the girl with the curls?" asked -Caroline, turning fiercely on Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I—I—don't know," he stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the summer-house, no doubt," said she, -beginning to advance towards it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She 's coming!" whispered Jack, who was not -nearly ready. Then, to Doctor Sternroyd, who -was standing first on one leg and then on the -other and alternately opening and shutting his -umbrella in his helpless bewilderment, "Doctor! -Lie! Lie, as you never lied before in your life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sir Peter had jumped up, and was barring -Caroline's way. "You mustn't go there!—You -can't go there!—You shan't go there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Caroline gave him a look and brushed him -away with a contemptuous motion of her -</span><em class="italics">face-à-main</em><span>. "Stand aside, intoxicated person!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Intoxicated!—Me!" screamed the Admiral, -sinking back on the seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Caroline found herself face to face with Doctor -Sternroyd, whom Marjolaine had thrust forward, -just as you throw your wife or your child to the -wolves when you are sleighing in Siberia. "A -clergyman!" she cried, examining him with -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A humble clerk in holy orders, Ma'am," -stammered the Antiquary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Caroline saw Marjolaine with difficulty -supporting a decrepit old man in a very bad hat -and a very dirty smock. Really quite a touching -picture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this?" she asked, almost mollified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A poor man, your Ladyship," said Marjolaine, -with a pretty curtsey. "I'm teaching him his -letters, your Ladyship." Another curtsey. Then -she had an inspiration. She pointed to Doctor -Sternroyd. "And this kind clergyman is going -to give him some soup, your ladyship." When -she had completed her third curtsey, she turned -to Jack. "Come, good man. Lean on me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Caroline was much moved. "I'm glad my -first visit bore such good fruit," she said -patronisingly. Then seeing with what extreme difficulty -the poor old man walked, and not to be outdone -by a mere chit of a girl, she said to Jack, "Give -me your other arm." And so Jack was slowly -escorted towards Doctor Sternroyd's house, while -the Walk looked on and admired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Walk was puzzled. Here was the Eyesore, -suddenly grown very old, being led into one of -their houses, and the Admiral uttered no protest! -As a matter of fact the Admiral was too much -occupied in mastering his desire to laugh, to -move from his seat. The rest of the Walk -felt that Caroline was the common enemy, -and even the Eyesore sank into secondary -importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For all but Basil. Basil, who had watched the -entire adventure from his window, nearly spoilt -the whole thing. He had seen the Eyesore run -away—yet here was the Eyesore—!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the Eyesore ran away! Who's—?" -he shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter recovered breath enough to gasp, -"Hold your tongue!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but, Doctor Sternroyd—" protested Basil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your silly tongue, sir!" cried the Doctor -to Basil's infinite amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack disappeared into the Antiquary's house -and the Antiquary himself stood at the door -waving his umbrella like a sword. Caroline -turned to Marjolaine. "You're a good little -girl," she said, kindly. "Here's a six-penny -bit." Marjolaine, quite equal to the occasion, -received it with a fourth curtsey, and a modest -"Thank you, my Lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I think Caroline had some idea of following into -Doctor Sternroyd's house to see that her ancient -</span><em class="italics">protégé</em><span> was well bestowed, but just as she got to -the gate the Doctor slammed the door violently -in her face; and the whole Walk took its cue -from him, so that as Caroline passed along the -Walk haughtily tossing her head, every window -was closed with a bang, and every door was -slammed with a bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Marjolaine and the Admiral sat under the -tree and shouted with laughter!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="pomander-walk-takes-a-dish-of-tea"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">POMANDER WALK TAKES A DISH OF TEA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 40%" id="figure-389"> -<span id="chapter-xi-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XI headpiece" src="images/img-185.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XI headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Walk had got through Sunday as best it -could. It had gone to church; it had read -good books; the Admiral had carefully -laid "Hervey's Meditations among the Tombs" -open on his knees, and his bandana over his head, -and had tried to sleep his Sunday sleep. But it -was only a fitful slumber. Too many things had -happened and were happening in the Walk. There -was Jack, concealed in Doctor Sternroyd's house, -for one. What did that mean? Sir Peter had -called on Doctor Sternroyd, but the latter stood -in his doorway with the door only ajar, and -would not allow him to cross the threshold. He -had kept a wary eye on the Walk and he was -sure Jack and Marjolaine had not met. He -himself had sat under the elm to an unconscionable -hour, and had made it impossible for the -lovers to meet. He would not betray them, but -on the other hand there should be no underhand -goings on. He had tried to intercept Marjolaine -and talk to her like the Dutch uncle he had -alluded to, but she laughed in his face, and ran -away. But that was not all that troubled him. -He had undoubtedly been embraced, in the -presence of the whole Walk, by Mrs. Poskett. There -was no blinking that fact; and he felt that his -neighbours, with gross unfairness, put the blame -on him. After the morning service, Miss Ruth -Pennymint, who had gone to church alone, -refused to walk home with him for the first time -in his experience, and only gave a very lame -excuse. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn looked at him with -a disapproving eye. Mrs. Poskett had not shown -herself since the awful scene with the cat. He -had instructed Jim to reconnoitre; I don't -know how Jim carried out that delicate task, -but he came back to his master with the report -that Mrs. Poskett was mortal bad, to be sure. -Even Basil Pringle had been very distant with -him when they met after church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral turned and twisted in his chair. -Surely the flies were more troublesome than -usual so early in the summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was so put about that, contrary to his usual -custom, he went to church again in the evening. -Madame Lachesnais was there, and to his -confusion asked him to escort her home. Marjolaine -walked on in front with Mr. Pringle and Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame had noticed the curious discomfort -that pervaded the Walk. She had seen and -heard nothing of yesterday's occurrences, as she -had been shut in her own little room at the back -of the house, busy with her own troubles. She -took the Admiral into her confidence. Did he -know what was the matter with the Walk? It -seemed as if some imp of mischief had set -everybody by the ears. She had ventured to address -Doctor Sternroyd that morning, and he had -turned even paler than usual—positively green—and -had run away from her. What was the matter -with Mrs. Poskett? Why had not Barbara been -to church all day? And he, himself, why was he -so silent? Why did he seem to wish to avoid her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was greatly troubled. He could -only stammer that he supposed it was the change -in the weather. "Well," said Madame, "I -cannot let our good friends go on like this. Why, -we should be unable to live together in the Walk, -if we were not all on excellent terms with each -other." And so the next morning all the -inhabitants of the Walk received a pretty little -three-cornered note, asking them to an </span><em class="italics">al fresco</em><span> -tea-party that evening, under the elm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack had never spent such a Sunday, and -privately registered a vow he would never -spend such another. Doctor Sternroyd did all -his own housekeeping; he said he would rather -spend his money on a book than on a cook. He -invariably rose at six. He routed Jack out at -that hour. At half-past six he was at work in -his study, even on Sundays. At nine he made -his breakfast, a thin cup of tea and a very thin -rasher of bacon. What Jack did between six -and nine, I do not know. After breakfast the -Doctor went back to his study and he gave Jack -his great manuscript work on "Prehistoric -Remains found in the Alluvial Deposit of the -Estuary of the Thames, together with Observations -on the Cave-dwellers of Ethiopia," to while -away the time. When the Doctor went to church -he locked Jack in his room. After church he -went for a long walk and forgot all about Jack. -And he had forgotten all about him when he -came back, so that Jack was forced to raise a -perfect riot before he could get released. By -midday on Monday Jack had worked his way -through every edible thing in the house, and on -Monday afternoon the Doctor not only had to -go and see the Archbishop of Canterbury on the -subject of the licence, but had been strictly -enjoined by Jack to bring home food.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Fortunately for Madame's tea-party, that -Monday evening was an ideal one. June had -come and the roses in the little gardens had -taken the opportunity to burst into bloom. The -elm was in its fresh summer garb. The setting -sun shone level through its leaves and turned -them all to burnished gold. It gilded the entire -Walk, and set the panes in the windows flashing -and flaming; even the dirty little oil lamps were -glorified as they reflected the golden blaze. The -river shimmered with opal and amethyst; and a -great barge, drifting down with the tide, might -have borne Cleopatra and all her retinue, so -gorgeously was it transfigured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not all the Walk was present. The Doctor, as -we have just seen, was engaged with the -Archbishop, and with his own marketing. Miss -Barbara had sent a polite excuse. Her actual -words were "Miss Barbara Pennymint presents -her Compliments to Madame Lachesnais and is -much obliged for her kind invitation to tea. -Miss Barbara Pennymint much regrets she cannot -avail herself of Madame Lachesnais' proffered -hospitality as I am engaged in an educational -experiment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Brooke-Hoskyn, of course, was absent, as -usual, for purely personal and private reasons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the others were there. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -was resplendent in a plum-coloured -suit, of which the breeches fitted so tightly, and -of which the waist was so narrow, that he scarcely -dared breathe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett and Ruth had put on their best -gowns; the Admiral wore his gala uniform -with all his medals, and his three-cornered hat. -Madame herself was a vision of loveliness. She -had discarded her half-mourning for the occasion; -but what she wore I cannot tell you, except -that it was a soft blue, and that there was -graceful lace about her neck and wrists. If you wish -to see what she looked like, you have only to -examine a Book of the Modes of 1805, and -you will find her there. Even Mr. Basil Pringle -was brushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nanette and Jim—Jim in his best clothes—waited -on Madame's guests. The latter were -all on their best behaviour. You never saw -anything more elegant than the way Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -stuck out his little finger as he raised -his cup to his lips; you never heard prettier -protests than when Marjolaine offered Mrs. Poskett -a third helping of cake. "I couldn't! -I reely and truly couldn't!—Well, since you -insist!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But do what Madame would she could not -put her guests quite at their ease. A sort of -blight brooded over their spirits. This was -particularly noticeable in their attitude towards -Sir Peter. They treated him with unaccustomed -aloofness; they kept him at arm's length; -they did not respond to his sallies; with the -result that his sallies became more forced as -the evening wore on. As a contrast to this -gentle gloom, Marjolaine's high spirits amazed -her mother. This child, who only last Saturday -was broken-hearted, to-day was laughing and -blithe, rallying her guests, prettily playing the -hostess, the only life in the party. Madame -watched her with puzzled anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, with the calf of his leg -well displayed, and his little finger well at right -angles to his cup, bowed elegantly. "Ah, Ladies, -there is nothing so comforting as a dish of tea -after dinner. It is prodigiously soothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There seemed no appropriate rejoinder, but -Mrs. Poskett exploded with "Nothing can -soothe the broken heart." She spoke into -her cup, but her eyes wandered towards the -Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter tried to change the conversation. -Also he felt it was time to assert himself. -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had been monopolising the -notice of the ladies far too long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hah!" he cried, "I 've always said Pomander -Walk was a Haven of Content. Look at it!" You -remember that the last time he made a -similar remark everybody obediently turned at -his command. Imagine his feelings, then, when -on this occasion nobody paid the slightest -attention. On the contrary, they ostentatiously -turned to each other and began spirited conversations -about nothing in particular. He repeated, -"I say, look at it!" but only drew a glare from -Brooke-Hoskyn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came to the rescue. She tripped -up to him and put her arm through his. "There 's -something the matter with the Walk this evening, -Sir Peter. I 'm the only merry one among you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame could not help exclaiming with grave -remonstrance, "Marjolaine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came close to her mother. "Oh, -let me laugh, Maman!" She proceeded in a -whisper, "They are so droll! Sir Peter is afraid -of Mrs. Poskett; Mrs. Poskett is almost in -tears; Mr. Basil is gloomy; Ruth is in a bad -temper; and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn has n't got -over Saturday's banquet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you, Marjolaine—!" exclaimed Madame -with quiet reproof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You told me to fight it, Maman," said Marjolaine, -with a shy laugh. Then she ran across to -Basil, who was watching the door through which -Barbara might still come. He was wondering -what demon had persuaded him to accept this -invitation, which had brought him out of doors, -when he might have stayed indoors where he -would at least have been under the same roof as -Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral had bravely recovered from his -rebuff. He came up to Brooke-Hoskyn. "Well, -Brooke, my boy! Did n't see you in church -yesterday. Too much turtle on Saturday—what?" -and down came the flat of his hand with -a round thwack on Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's broad -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To be accused of having overeaten yourself -when you are suffering from a bad headache is -extremely annoying; to be slapped on the back -when you are swallowing hot tea is infuriating. -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn turned on Sir Peter. -"Nothing of the sort, sir!—I deprecate these -unseemly familiarities. I was detained from -divine service because I chose to sit at home and -hold my dear Selina's hand!" And he turned -his back on Sir Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Um," said the latter. His playful banter -was certainly not being well received.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett looked up at Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -with melancholy eyes. "How is your wife?" -she said, "that dear, innocent lamb."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gambolling, Ma'am," he answered, airily. -"Figuratively speaking, Selina is gambolling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Poskett, -sympathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil Pringle felt that something drastic -must be done if they were to live through the -evening. He addressed Marjolaine. "Miss -Marjory, won't you cheer us with a song?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame Lachesnais interposed quickly: this -was putting her poor child's courage to too severe -a test. "I am sure she would prefer not to sing -this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine exclaimed merrily, "Oh, yes, -Maman, if they would like it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame could only admire her indomitable -pluck. "Brave child!" she murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sing that pretty little thing about the blue -ribbon," cried the Admiral, and hummed the -first bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!" mockingly cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral faced him angrily: "Well, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him calmly through -his quizzing glass, and said coldly, "What, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame interposed with her most amiable -smile. "Sir Peter, Mrs. Poskett's cup is empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it?" growled Sir Peter, without moving. -But Madame's hand was stretched out to receive -it, and he had to yield.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh hang!—Your cup, Ma'am." He almost -snatched it from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How kind and gentle you are," almost sobbed -Mrs. Poskett, with an adoring glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral answered her with a glare. -"Kind be—" he was silenced by a stern "Hush!" -from Basil, and had to relieve his feelings by -inarticulate splutterings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine stood in the centre of the circle, -with her hands folded in front of her, and sang -very simply and unaffectedly:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dear, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Johnny 's so long at the fair.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>He promised he 'd buy me a fairing should please me,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He promised he 'd buy me a bunch of blue ribbons</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>To tie up my bonny brown hair."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn applauded in the grand -manner with the tips of his fingers, as if he had -been at the Opera. "Brava! Brava!" he cried, -with the discrimination of a connoisseur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brava be hanged!" roared the Admiral. -"Capital!" He turned to Miss Ruth. "Where's -little Miss Barbara?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To his consternation Miss Ruth hissed a -fierce "Hsssh!" at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I 'm—!" he muttered to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine sang the second verse. You are to -understand that she made a very pleasant picture -as she stood warbling the quaint old ballad with -unaffected simplicity. Jack evidently thought -so, for, braving the danger of discovery, he stood, -gaunt and hungry, watching her from behind the -curtains in Doctor Sternroyd's window. Indeed, -all the Walk was affected by her charm. Heads -nodded to the tune; feet kept time to the rhythm; -hearts melted—Mrs. Poskett's heart, especially. -She gazed reproachfully at the Admiral. What, -indeed, could the matter be? and why, indeed, -was her Johnnie, whose name was Peter, so long -at the fair? Jim and Nanette had come into the -circle, fascinated by the song. Jim was trying -to insinuate an arm round Nanette's ample -waist, but only got pinched for his pains.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"He promised he'd buy me a basket of posies,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A garland of lilies, a garland of roses,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A little straw hat to set off the blue ribbons</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>That tie up my bonny brown hair.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And it's oh, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dear, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, dear! What can the matter be?</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Johnny 's so long at the fair!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Almost unconsciously the whole Walk drifted -into the song, so that the last lines were being -sung by everybody. The Admiral, indeed, who -never knew when a song was over, went on long -after everybody else had finished. In his -enthusiasm he added weird shouts to the -words:—"Oh! Damme! Ahoy! What can the matter be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett burst into loud sobs. "Oh, -don't!—I can't bear it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth turned fiercely on the Admiral. "Brute!" -she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was stopping both ears -with his hands. "Mong doo! Mong doo!" he -drawled. And then in that curiously official -manner he sometimes dropped into, "Pray -silence for the Admiral's song!" It was a very -irritating manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter made furiously towards him. "By -Jehoshaphat—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Madame, ever alert, stopped him. She -held out a full cup. "Sir Peter," she said, with -her sweetest smile, indicating Mrs. Poskett, -"take her another dish of tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me, Ma'am!" protested the outraged Admiral; -but there was no resisting that smile, and -he took it like a lamb—an angry lamb. "It's -a confounded conspiracy," he growled. He -thrust the tea under Mrs. Poskett's nose. "Your -tea, Ma'am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How sweet of you!" sobbed Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral danced with rage. "Dash it -and hang it, Ma'am, you're crying into it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had taken Miss Ruth aside. -"Where is Barbara?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's enough to make a saint swear," answered -Ruth, snappishly. "She's been locked in with -Doctor Johnson since Saturday. Locked in! -Only comes out for meals." Marjolaine laughed -quietly to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter had been moving restlessly round -the Walk. He now found himself face to face -with Basil. "Pringle," he said, "can you tell -me what's come over the Walk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil drew himself up. "The Walk has -lofty ideals, sir," he said sternly. "Perhaps you -have fallen short of them." He turned away -and stalked towards Barbara's house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was left speechless. He—he! -Admiral Sir Peter Antrobus—had been snubbed -by Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, by Ruth, and now -by this—this fiddler-fellow! He could only -mutter, "Well!—blister my paint—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was aroused by the booming of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Ladies," that great man was saying, -"Sherry was in fine condition on Saturday!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was not going to hoist the white -flag. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn must be put in his -proper place. "And port, too, eh, Brooke, my boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him sternly and -haughtily. "My name is Brooke-Hoskyn, sir, -and I was referring to my Right Honourable -friend, Richard Brinsley Sheridan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why couldn't you say so?" grumbled Sir -Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued. "As I was -about to say when—" he looked contemptuously -at the Admiral—"when I was interrupted—What -wit! What brilliance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do tell us!" cried Ruth. The ladies all -hung on his lips. He tasted the full flavour -of popularity. He let it linger on his palate. -He was in no hurry. "In order to appreciate -the point, you must remember how sultry the -weather was on Saturday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gave you a headache, what?" put in the -irrepressible Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn did his best to wither -him with a look. Then he resumed. "Brooke, -says he—Brooke, my boy"—just like that—all -craned forward: they must not miss the -point—"it's a very warm night." His audience -waited. Yes? The rest of the story? He -looked from one to the other a little -uncomfortably. When they found nothing more was -coming they turned to each other, puzzled. -Could this be all? Was their perspicacity at -fault? or where was the joke? The Admiral, -bolder than the rest, gave voice to the general -feeling. "H'm. I don't see much in that."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 56%" id="figure-390"> -<span id="then-he-resumed-brooke-says-he-brooke-my-boy-just-like-that"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="THEN HE RESUMED. "BROOKE," SAYS HE,—"BROOKE, MY BOY,"—JUST LIKE THAT" src="images/img-198.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">THEN HE RESUMED. "BROOKE," SAYS HE,—"BROOKE, MY BOY,"—JUST LIKE THAT</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody ever suspected you of having a -sense of humour," said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -severely. However, he felt that his first effort -had not been the success he had hoped for, and -he tried again. "Ah!"—said he, brightening -up, "and my friend, H.R.H. the P. of W.!" He -uttered the cabalistic letters with a mixture -of mystery and airy familiarity. There was an -awed "Oh-h!" from all his hearers except Sir -Peter. The latter exclaimed impatiently, "Your -friend who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reply came with crushing weight. "His -Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, sir!" The -Admiral reeled under the shock of this broadside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett leant forward eagerly. "What -did the dear Prince say? My poor husband knew -him well," she explained. "When Mr. Alderman -Poskett was Sheriff, the dear Prince frequently -dined with the Corporation, and many 's the time -he said to Poskett, 'Mr. Sheriff, you must be -knighted,' but Poskett went and died—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was annoyed. He was -being interrupted, which is a thing intolerable, -and his own anecdote was being supplanted. He -held up a deprecatory hand. "It was not so much -what he said," he explained, "as his manner of -saying it. Just:—'Ah, Brooke!'—but oh! the -elegance! Oh, the condescension!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter broke out with, "Well, of all the—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Madame stopped him with a touch on -his arm. "Do you ever make speeches, -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn?" she asked sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great man looked at her with something -like suspicion. For a moment he was undeniably -flustered. But he mastered himself with an effort -and replied with a fair assumption of carelessness, -"Short ones, Ma'am. Frequent, but short. -I have proposed the health of many gentlemen -of distinction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How clever you must be!" cried Ruth, -admiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—!" protested Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, with -exquisite modesty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame pointed to the river, now gleaming -in the afterglow. "How strangely empty the -Walk looks without our fisherman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was wondering what I missed," said Basil, -"of course! The Eyesore!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He leaves a blank," added Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine laughed. "He was a sort of statue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett confided tearfully to her tea-cup. -"The Walk is not the Walk without him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was genuinely astonished. "Why, -he tried to drown your cat, Ma'am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame playfully shook her finger at him, -"Oh, Sir Peter! have you driven the poor man away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Walk eyed him severely, and all cried as -with one voice, "For shame, Sir -Peter!" Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn went on booming, "Shame! -Shame!" all by himself, long after the others -were silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral's patience was nearly exhausted. -Here was Madame turning against him now. -The injustice of it infuriated him. He stamped -with rage. "But, hang it and dash it, I haven't -seen him!" he roared. But nobody believed -him. All shook their heads gloomily, and said "Ah!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-the-old-conspiracy-is-triumphant-and-a-new-conspiracy-is-hatched"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH THE OLD CONSPIRACY IS TRIUMPHANT -<br />AND A NEW CONSPIRACY IS HATCHED</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-391"> -<span id="chapter-xii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XII headpiece" src="images/img-202.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XII headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Little Miss Barbara Pennymint came -flying out of her house: a little more -and she would have flown over the railings. -Her cheeks were glowing with joy, her eyes -glittering with excitement. She saw nothing of -the tea-party, but dashed headlong into the -midst of it as a sea-mew dashes at a lighthouse. -"Marjory! Marjory!" she cried. Then she -saw all the people staring at her, and stopped, -abashed. "Oh! I had forgotten!" she exclaimed, -and spread her wings to fly back again, but -Madame stopped her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dish of tea, Miss Barbara?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" cried Barbara, violently, but remembering -her manners she corrected herself. "Oh, -no, thank you!" She hopped and skipped to -Marjolaine, who had come half-way to meet her. -"Marjory," she said, overflowing with -excitement, "can I speak to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Marjolaine could answer, Sir Peter had -borne down on them. Here, at last, was -somebody who had not snubbed him yet. "Ah, Miss -Barbara," he bellowed, with clumsy playfulness, -"I didn't see you in church yesterday!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As if Barbara wanted to be reminded of that!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wasn't I there?" she stammered, utterly -taken aback. "I don't remember." She tried -to get away, but the Admiral was inexorable. -"Come, now! Come, now! What was the text?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unhappy little Barbara saw all the eyes of -the Walk fixed on her. She had to say something. -"Oh! I know!" she cried at last, and proceeded -volubly, "'If any of you know of any cause or -just impediment—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barbara!" screamed Miss Ruth, indignantly, -while the others laughed at her confusion. -Basil heaved a great sigh. Still thinking of the -lost one! Marjolaine came to the rescue and -drew Barbara away from her tormentor. "Come -away, Babs!" She turned severely on poor Sir -Peter, "Don't worry her, Sir Peter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try to put some sense in her, Miss Marjory," -said Ruth, as the two girls ran away, with their -arms, as usual, round each others' waists.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was crushed. "Even Missie!" -he groaned. But he saw Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -preparing to tell another anecdote. This gave -him new courage. Putting on his courtliest -manner, he exclaimed, "Well, Ladies! To-morrow -is the Fourth of June!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As this is the Third," interrupted -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, with fine sarcasm, "you might -safely have left us to infer that, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was standing close to Mrs. Poskett, who -had not moved from her seat under the elm. -Sir Peter came and faced him, so that the poor -lady found herself, as she afterwards described it, -between the upper and the nether millstone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn could wield sarcasm, -so could Sir Peter when he was put to it. He -spoke with dangerous politeness. "But it seems -necessary to remind the bosom friend of H.R.H. the -P. of W. that it is the birthday of His Most -Gracious Majesty King George the Third!—" The -shot told. For a moment Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -was silenced. Sir Peter went on, conscious -of victory, "Ladies, I warn you not to be -alarmed when you hear me fire the salute as -usual!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn leaped—positively leaped -at his opportunity. "As usual!—Ha! That -brass popgun of yours—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Popgun!—" roared the Admiral, leaning -across Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said popgun, sir!—has never gone off, yet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett was in a dreadful flutter. She -held up her cup and saucer deprecatingly to -each of the infuriated gentlemen in turn, and -each automatically seized them and rattled them -in the other's face. Jim—moved by his guilty -conscience—was signalling frantically to -Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn not to betray him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was purple in the face. "Because -some infernal scoundrel has always tampered -with the charge!" The accumulated -grievances of the evening welled up within him. -"But to-night," he went on, thrusting the cup -and saucer roughly on Mrs. Poskett and spilling -the tea over her beautiful silk gown, "to-night, -I'll load it myself! and, damme! I'll take it to -bed with me!" And with that he stumped off -in a rage into his house, thrusting the innocent -Basil and the terrified Jim out of his way with -horrible objurgations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Ladies!" said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -triumphantly, "you see the man's real nature!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Mrs. Poskett's nerves were completely -shattered, and she was trying to drink tea out -of her empty cup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth came and sat beside her. "We shall -break the Admiral down, yet, my dear. His -temper is all due to conscience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alderman Poskett was just like that whenever -he had sanded the sugar," said Mrs. Poskett, -tearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was devoting himself to -Madame. Jim and Nanette were removing the -tea-things into Madame's house, and that -rascally Jim, who was old enough to know -better—but is anybody ever old enough to know -better?—was making the most of his chances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine and Barbara had retired into the -Gazebo. "Yes!" twittered Barbara, continuing -their conversation, "he's learnt it! He does -surround it with flowers of speech, but he says -it quite clearly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Doctor Johnson!" cried Marjolaine, -laughing, and clapping her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara shuddered reminiscently. "But I -cannot bear his eye on me! It's like Charles's. -And he is moulting—which more than ever -increases the resemblance. Oh, Marjory, he -looked at me so coldly all the time I was teaching -him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind how he looked, if he'll only talk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara embraced her frantically. "How -can I ever thank you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil was standing by the chains that separated -the Walk from the river. The melancholy of -the evening had entered his soul. Ruth came -up to him. He was an idiot, to be sure, yet her -heart went out to him in sympathy. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -and Mrs. Poskett were thanking Madame -for her hospitality. Jack could be seen peeping -impatiently out of Doctor Sternroyd's window, -or striding to and fro in the room like a caged -tiger at feeding time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine whispered to Barbara. "If you -are really and truly grateful, you may be able -to help me! I'll tell you a great secret." She -drew Barbara close to her. "I am to be married -to-morrow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara screamed aloud, and all the people -in the Walk turned in alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is anything the matter?" enquired Miss -Ruth, anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" said Marjolaine, laughing. "Yes," -she went on, when the others had resumed their -conversation, "married secretly to-morrow. -Swear you won't tell anybody if you live to be -ninety!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes! oh, yes!" cried Barbara, hopping from -twig to twig. (I cannot help it: she really was -exactly like a bird!) "I mean, No! oh, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you must be bridesmaid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara's face expressed rapture. "Marjory!" And -then with eager curiosity, "Who is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh!" whispered Marjolaine. She pointed to -Doctor Sternroyd's house. "There!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara was genuinely amazed. She had -heard of May and December, but this was May -of this year and December of the year-before-last. -"Not Doctor Sternroyd?" she asked aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine burst out laughing. "No, no!" She -pointed again where Jack was standing -behind the curtain, the picture of misery. "There! -At the window!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara gazed and understood. "Oh, how -lovely!" she cried, alluding to the romance and -secrecy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, of course Marjolaine accepted the epithet -for Jack. "Yes, is n't he?" She drew Barbara -to the elm. "We are to be married by special -licence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" asked Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. Doctor Sternroyd's getting -it. It lets you go and be married anywhere, -whenever you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavenly!" cried Barbara. "If Doctor -Johnson teaches Basil what I 've taught Doctor -Johnson, Doctor Sternroyd shall get me a licence, -too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Marjolaine, "we'll keep him -busy." Then she turned to where Basil was -gloomily watching them, and called, "Mr. Basil!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil hurried forward eagerly, "Yes, Miss -Marjory?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barbara is not feeling very well," said -Marjolaine, sympathetically; and immediately -Barbara looked languishing and pathetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens!" cried Basil in genuine alarm, -"Shall I play to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!" cried Marjolaine, innocently, "it's -not so bad as that. But it's her evening hour -with Doctor Johnson, and she does n't feel quite -equal to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth had overheard this last statement. -"Why, bless her heart!" she interrupted tartly, -"she 's been sitting with that bird all day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara lifted great reproachful eyes at her. -"Unkind Ruth! The lonely bird!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine went on rapidly, addressing Basil, -"So she wondered whether you would take her -place for once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course!" cried Basil. "With the -greatest pleasure in life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara glanced at him out of the corner of -her eye, and said very demurely, "Oh, but you -don't know what you may hear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," exclaimed Ruth, sharply, "he swears -horribly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll soothe his savage breast!" cried Basil, -enthusiastically. "I 'll be Orpheus with his -Lute! I 'll play the Kreutzer Sonata to him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara turned anxiously to Marjolaine: this -wouldn't do at all!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! no!" cried the latter, "just let him -talk! Just let him talk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Basil was already inside the house. -Marjolaine and Barbara retired, giggling, into the -Gazebo, where they sat and twittered mutual -confidences. Ruth joined the other ladies, who -were listening to Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. The -Admiral was leaning out of his upstair window -to take in his thrush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, yes," continued Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -"I have collected the witty sayings of my -distinguished friends. I shall make a book of them. -A small quarto. I shall call it, 'Pearls'"—he -caught sight of the Admiral—"'Pearls before -Swine.'" The Admiral disappeared. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -proceeded, "Did I tell you my friend -Sherry's bonn mott about the weather?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes! Oh, yes!" cried all three ladies, with -alacrity, and fled from him, leaving him abashed -and rather offended. He saw Barbara in the -Gazebo, and brightened up. "Ah! but Miss -Barbara was not there!" He crossed on tip-toe, -and, much to her alarm, seized her by the arm -and dragged her to the elm. "Imagine, then," -he boomed, condescendingly, while Barbara -signalled in vain to Marjolaine for help, -"Imagine, then, that you are standing—ah—just -where you are standing; and I am Sheridan." Barbara -had no idea of what he was talking -about. Had he suddenly gone mad? If so, was -he harmless? "You remember how we perspired -on Saturday evening?" "Oh!" cried -Barbara, with disgust. "I come up to -you—so." He suited the action to the word. "I -place my hand familiarly on your shoulder—so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really!" cried Barbara, indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn explained. "You understand: -you are Sheridan—no; I am Sheridan -and you are me. And I—that is Sheridan—say -to you—I mean, me—'Brooke, my boy—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jane, Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's pretty maid, came -rushing out of the house. She was in a flutter -of excitement; also she was in a dreadful -hurry—and here was her master, talking to a lady!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Brooke, my boy'"—repeated Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -leading up to his point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Master—! Master—!" whispered Jane, hoarsely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn waved her away impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Brooke, my boy—'" he repeated for the -third time. But Jane was tugging at his -coat-tails.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -peevishly. "What the devil is it? Go away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jane clung to him like a limpet. "Master!" -she cried again; and then, putting her lips close -to his ear and covering them with one hand, while -with the other she pointed frantically to the -upstairs window, she whispered a piece of news -which petrified him and made his eyes start out -of his head. Then she ran back into the house -as quickly as she had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh? What?" he cried, in great perturbation. -"There, now!—So like Selina! Spoilt the -point of my story!" He turned to the utterly -bewildered Barbara, with half a mind to -continue his anecdote, but thought better of it, -and with a brusque, "Excuse me!" dashed -headlong into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame, who had been quietly conversing -with Mrs. Poskett and Ruth, came to Marjolaine. -"I think I shall go in. Will you come, Marjolaine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Maman," pleaded Marjolaine, "I have -so much to say to Barbara!" She accompanied -her mother to their gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are so feverish—so unlike yourself—! -You are not going to be indisposed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine caught sight of Jack in the Doctor's -study. "Oh, Maman!" she cried, throwing her -arms round her mother's neck and kissing her -with quite unusual ardour, "I am so well, so -well!—I never was so well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked at her searchingly. Could -her daughter be heartless? To be sure, she -herself had besought her to forget her girlish -love, but Marjolaine had forgotten it too quickly. -Madame went into her house with an uneasy -mind and a troubled countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Ruth had been arguing with Mrs. Poskett. -"Well," she said, evidently alluding to -the Admiral, "That's what I should do! Bring -him to his knees."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a dangerous glitter in Mrs. Poskett's -eyes as she replied, "I brought Poskett to his: -why should n't I bring Peter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strike while the iron's hot. He knows we're -all disappointed with him, and he's ashamed of -himself. Now's the time, when he ain't sure of -himself. Come along in. Put on your prettiest -cap. I'll help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as they were at Mrs. Poskett's gate they -saw Doctor Sternroyd come shuffling round the -corner. His manner was furtive, and he was -burdened with a variety of small parcels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, Doctor! How you are loaded!" -cried Miss Ruth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The antiquary had evidently hoped to get -home unnoticed. "Good evening, Ladies!" he -stammered, in confusion. "Pray excuse me if -I cannot remove my hat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And not books, this time?" said Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, no!" cried the antiquary, looking -as guilty as if he had been caught carrying stolen -goods. "Not books. Not what you might call -books. Just parcels. Simple necessaries, I -assure you." He made a wide curve in order not -to come into closer contact with Ruth and -Mrs. Poskett, and they went laughing into the latter's -house. But the wide curve brought him up -against Marjolaine and Barbara, who had come -out of the Gazebo. "More women!" groaned -the Doctor; and before either of them had -spoken he had added hastily, "Simple -necessaries, I do assure you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara hopped up to him eagerly. She -touched all the parcels, which he vainly tried -to keep out of her reach. "Doctor," she said, -eagerly, "which is the licence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor was utterly taken aback. "Eh? -Oh, dear! dear! Miss Marjory, you told her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Marjory. "She's my dearest -friend!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut!—Dear, dear!—What says the -Swan of Avon? 'Who was't betrayed the -Capitol?—A woman!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack had opened the window and now leant -out and said in a ghastly whisper, "Doctor!—For -Heaven's sake look sharp with the victuals!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there!" cried the flustered Doctor, -as he shuffled on into the house, "the cuckoo -in the nest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the same instant Mr. Basil Pringle came -bounding out of the Misses Pennymint's house, -shouting, "Miss Barbara!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara leant half-swooning against -Marjolaine. "Oh!—he's coming!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Barbara!" repeated Basil, breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has Doctor Johnson bitten you?" asked -Marjolaine, mischievously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that gifted bird!" exclaimed Basil, -rapturously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he speak?" asked Marjolaine, while -Barbara panted expectant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak!—Ah!—" Basil had no words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doctor Sternroyd's window was violently -thrown open by Jack. It was nearly dark in the -Walk, and Jack was reckless. "Marjory!" he -called. Marjory was very much startled. -Anybody might come out at any moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! take care!" she cried, as she ran up to -within whispering distance of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara, with bent head and blushing cheeks -was trying to keep Basil to the point. "What -did he say, Mr. Basil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come closer!" whispered Jack to Marjolaine, -and after assuring herself that no one was looking, -she crept inside the little garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil came impulsively towards Barbara. -"Shall I tell you? Dare I tell you?" he asked -passionately, yet shyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know best," said Barbara, making an -invisible pattern on the grass with her dainty -foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil took his courage in both hands. "He -said—it was all in one breath—He said, -'O-burn-your-lungs-and-liver-you-lubberly-son-of-a- -lop-eared-weevil-tell-Barbara-you-love-her!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mr. Basil!" sighed Barbara, and threw -herself headlong into his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's true!—It's true!" he cried -enthusiastically. "Come! let me tell you my own -way!" And without more ado, he picked her up -and carried her bodily into the Gazebo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's perfectly monstrous!" Jack was explaining -angrily to Marjolaine, who was now under -his window. "The old fossil's brought two eggs, -a red herring, and a pot of currant jelly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Jack!" exclaimed Marjolaine sympathetically, -yet with a note of laughter in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that rations for a grown man?" asked -Jack pathetically. "Says he'll make an -omelette! Two eggs! An omelette! Ho!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the Eyesore crept cautiously back to his -post. He had not dared come in broad daylight, -but now that it was nearly dark he hoped -he would be unobserved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the Gazebo came the voices of the other -lovers in long-drawn notes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My own!" said Basil, in a stupendous bass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Basil!" echoed Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rapture. Oblivion. An endless embrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you send that object for food?" said -Jack, pointing to the Eyesore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daren't speak to him," answered -Marjolaine, with a little shiver of dislike. "He -always turns out to be somebody else. Jack! if -you 'll be good, I 'll get it myself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Angel! But make haste! I'm starving!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you hear me singing, look out of the -window," whispered Marjolaine, kissing her -hand to him. And with that she ran lightly into -her own house, and Jack retired to wait with -what patience he could muster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, what is the next thing to do?" -asked Basil, rising and leading Barbara towards -the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must tell Ruth," said Barbara, with a -sound practical idea of clinching the matter. -There should be no mistake this time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes! at once!" cried Basil, nobly. "Oh!" -he exclaimed, with a burst of grateful sentiment, -"I 'll buy Doctor Johnson a golden chain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Barbara's pretty head was reposing affectionately -on his shoulder. "And I 'll wear it for -him. The dear bird."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dear, dear bird!" they repeated in -melodious unison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not otherwise did Romeo and Juliet breathe -soft nothings in the gardens of Verona. Not -otherwise did Paolo and Francesca talk -exquisite nonsense when they had very injudiciously -left off reading. Not otherwise—but why -pursue the subject? You and I have been just -as happy, and just as foolish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth brought Mrs. Poskett, resplendent in a -new cap and various other seductive devices, -out of the house. Barbara fluttered to her sister. -"Dear Ruth! Come in quickly! Basil and I -have such news for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth saw it at a glance. At last they had -shed one form of idiocy to take on another. -Now, perhaps, she would enjoy a little peace. -"Very well," she said. Then she made a low -curtsey to Mrs. Poskett, and said, meaningly, -"Courage—Lady Antrobus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas, poor Admiral! The knell of thy freedom -has sounded. Shut thyself in thy house as thou -wilt: close thy shutters; make fast thy doors; -yea, train the little brass cannon on the Walk: -nothing will help. Thy fair enemy is cruising -at the harbour's mouth, with pennons flaunting -to the breeze, and all her deadly armoury of -sighs, tears, threats, reproaches and languishing -glances made ready for action; and nothing -thou canst do will serve. Through long years -thou hast sailed light-heartedly from many ports, -leaving broken, or, at any rate, damaged hearts -behind thee. Now the Hour of Retribution has -struck, and the Avenger is here. Thy day of -conquests is past, and it is thou who wilt be led -captive in chains of roses. There is none to -sympathise with thee. On the contrary, it is my firm -conviction that the whole Walk will hang out -banners to celebrate thy defeat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-admiral-sir-peter-antrobus-is-more-determined-than-ever-to-fire-the-little-brass-gun"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH ADMIRAL SIR PETER ANTROBUS IS MORE THAN -<br />EVER DETERMINED TO FIRE THE LITTLE BRASS GUN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-392"> -<span id="chapter-xiii-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XIII headpiece" src="images/img-219.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XIII headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Poskett found herself—if you -did not count the Eyesore: and -nobody ever had counted him, yet—alone -in the Walk. The sun had set, and the -evening twilight itself had almost merged into -night. The river gleamed a pale green, as if -it were loath to surrender the last remnant of -day. It was a propitious hour for amorous -dalliance, but Mrs. Poskett felt she had much -to do ere she could hope to be engaged in any -such pleasant pastime. She sat some moments -under the elm considering her position. She -was face to face with a difficult problem. Here -she was, under the elm, and there was Sir Peter, -safely barricaded in his own house. That he -was not in a good humour she knew. The house -looked forbidding. The door was tightly closed. -The windows were shut, and the blinds drawn. -Somewhere behind those drawn blinds the -Admiral was fuming. She yearned to hold his hand -and comfort him and soothe his feelings, wounded, -as well she knew, by the sneers and open mutiny -of the Walk. But how to get at him? She could -not go to his house. She could not call him. All -the conventions and proprieties rose up like an -impregnable wall against either of those courses. -And even if she called him, he would not come. -On the contrary, he would retire like Hamlet to -some more remote part of his ramparts, and -pretend he had n't heard her. She must employ some -stratagem. But what stratagem? Pomander -Walk was not a good nursery for stratagems, -she thought, little knowing how many plots and -schemes and conspiracies had been concocted -and were still seething all around her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was on the point of giving up in despair -when she caught sight of the Eyesore. She -looked at his back—which was all she could see -of him—and brooded a long time. At last she -rose and stole over to him on tip-toe. She felt -for a coin in the little bead-embroidered bag -that hung from her wrist. Two or three times -she opened her mouth as if about to speak, but -each time she closed it again upon the unspoken -word. Finally, however, she made up her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My good man," she said, rather condescendingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore never stirred. She might as well -have addressed one of the chain-posts. She -tried again: this time a trifle more urbanely. -"Mister!—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sort of wave of acknowledgment ran down -the back of the Eyesore's coat, just as a horse -shivers at the touch of a fly; but that was all. -She made one more effort: now with a courteous -appeal. "Sir!—You threw Sempronius into -the river on Saturday—here's a crown for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cannot explain what connection there was in -her mind between the crime and the reward, -except that in some confused way she considered -the former as a sort of introduction entitling her -to address him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore only put his hand behind his -back with the open palm upward. When -Mrs. Poskett had dropped the huge coin into it, he -brought it slowly round, bit it, spat on it, and -pocketed it. But he said no word. Mrs. Poskett -proceeded hastily, indicating the Admiral's -house. "Now I want you to knock at -that door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Eyesore followed the direction of her finger -with a bleary eye. What! He knock at the door -of his enemy and persecutor! and be captured -by him! That was her little game, was it? And -she thought to lure him to his doom with a -miserable bait of five shillings. But he'd show her! -To Mrs. Poskett's amazement, alarm, and -admiration, he picked up a stone, hurled it with -unerring aim at the door, and incontinently -bolted round the corner. Mrs. Poskett fled -behind the elm and awaited the upshot with a -beating heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim appeared, red-faced, at the door. He -looked up and down the Walk, but seeing it -empty, muttered, "Cuss them boys!" and was -turning to go in again, when Mrs. Poskett called him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good evening, Mr. Jim," she said, in her -blandest tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Evening, mum!" answered Jim, touching -his forelock. "Them boys ought to be drownded, -is what I says; and I wish I had the doing -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have a responsible post, Mr. Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, mum. Bosun o' the Admiral's gig."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, more than that, Mr. Jim. Chief officer, -and cook, and gardener—what lovely peas!" It -was much too dark to see the peas, but she -knew they grew all around Jim's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," he assented, and added with meaning, -"takes a oncommon lot o' moistenin', though."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is thirsty weather, Mr. Jim." Mrs. Poskett -was searching in her bag again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim's eyes gleamed. "And a truer word you -never spoke, Lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Bosun," said Mrs. Poskett, insidiously, -"I want to see the Admiral."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim shook his head gloomily. "Ah! 'tis dirty -weather he's makin' of it, sure 'nough. He've -a-locked hisself in by hisself if you'll believe me; -an' he's a-swearin' somethin' 'orrible for to 'ear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Bosun," said Mrs. Poskett, holding up a -beautiful, bright new crown-piece between her -finger and thumb, "would five shillings quench -your thirst?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. -"Well, Lady, I can't say but 'twould take the -edge off it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To his disgust, Mrs. Poskett retreated a step. -"But I must see Sir Peter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim scratched his head—which was his way -of expressing deep reflection. He caught sight -of the Admiral's flag hanging motionless. "I've -got it!" he cried. "Sheer off a cable's length, -Lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett retired to the extreme end of the -Walk. Jim made a speaking-trumpet of both -hands and bellowed, "Admiral, ahoy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral's window went up so suddenly, -the Admiral's head shot out so abruptly, and his -voice was so fierce, that Mrs. Poskett could not -suppress a little scream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D'ye want to wake the dead?" roared the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Axing your pardon, Admiral—sunset."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of it, you lubber?" The Admiral -was quite unaware of Mrs. Poskett's presence, -or I am sure he would not have used such -an expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I haul the flag down, Admiral?" asked -Jim, with well-feigned astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You may judge of what the Admiral had gone -through from the fact that this was the first -time in recorded history he had neglected to -perform this ritual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On your life!" he cried, in great agitation. -"I've hoisted it and struck it with my own -hands, morning and night, any time these five -years. D' ye think I'll have a lubberly son of a -sea-cook like you do it now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He vanished from his window as abruptly as -he had appeared. Jim hobbled towards -Mrs. Poskett. "Got him, Lady!" he chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett handed him the coin. "Here, -and thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, mum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter appeared at the door. Unfortunately -he caught sight of Mrs. Poskett. He retreated, -half-closed the door, and only showed his head -through the opening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, ay, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haul it down yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett gave a cry of disappointment. -Had she spent ten shillings in vain?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Jim was equal to the occasion. His -voice was a beautiful blend of pathos and -wounded dignity. "No, Admiral. Not after -what passed your lips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damme! I can't leave it hoisted all night!" -roared the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's as mebbe," said Jim, beginning to -stump off. "Even the lubberly son of a sea-cook -'as 'is feelin's, same as them wot's 'igher -placed." And he stumped round the corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here! Jim!" roared the Admiral, in distress -and fury. "Come back! you mutinous -scoundrel!" But Jim was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was the Admiral to do? Was he to -leave the flag up, contrary to all precedent? -That was unthinkable. On the other hand was -he to offer himself as a target for Mrs. Poskett's -sarcasms? Yet again, was he to show the white -feather in the presence of the enemy? No! -He'd be hanged if he would. He slapped -himself on the chest to give himself courage, and -came down the steps. "Cheer up, my hearty!" -he cried; and then he hummed what he -thought was the tune of "Oh! dear! what can -the matter be?" and began hauling down the flag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Mrs. Poskett had sidled casually -along the railings, as if she were going nowhere -in particular and didn't mind when she got there. -But she timed herself carefully, so that she was -close to Sir Peter just as he was entangled in the -lines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Admiral!" she said, very gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma'am?" growled he, continuing to extricate himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you force me to address you?" she -asked reproachfully, and with great dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was taken aback. "Me! Force -you! Gobblessmysoul!" he exclaimed, "Well, I'm—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For your own good," said Mrs. Poskett, -solemnly. "Oh, Sir Peter, you was King of the -Walk on Friday. Now Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn -will usurp that title."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This fetched him. He left the flag lying at -the foot of the mast, and came out into the -open. "Will he so, Ma'am!" he said, fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So he will!" Having enticed him from -behind the security of his railings, Mrs. Poskett -knew he would follow wherever she led him. -She led him at once towards the elm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Walk says you have lowered the prestige -of His Majesty's Navy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral had indeed turned to go back; -but this brought him to her side. "Dash it -and hang it, Ma'am! what do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know what I mean," said Mrs. Poskett, -with pretty confusion. "The entire -Walk saw you press me to your heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was helpless. His own recollections -of what had happened on Saturday were -extremely vague. What with the rescue of the -cat and the sudden appearance of Caroline -Thring, together with the subsequent escape -of Jack, he had lost all sense of actualities. -Moreover, it was impossible for him to accuse -Mrs. Poskett of having embraced him. A -gentleman does not do such things. So he could -only stammer weakly, "I didn't, did I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett flashed at him indignantly. -"The entire Walk witnessed the outrage, and -the entire Walk is indignant that nothing has -come of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul!" muttered the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett followed up her advantage. -"'Oh, how unsailor-like!'"—that is what the -Walk says: "'How unsailor-like!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Imagine the stab. He, Admiral Sir Peter -Antrobus, with more than forty years of service -in His Majesty's Navy to his credit; the hero of -Copenhagen; the friend of Nelson; he, who had -given an eye for his country—unsailor-like!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pushed his wig back and mopped his -brow. "It doesn't say that!" he murmured, -horrified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Poskett was mercilessly emphatic. -"It says that." Then she steered on another -tack. "I 'm only a lone widow," she said, with -an air of martyrdom. "If Alderman Poskett -were alive, he 'd see you did the right thing by -his wife. But I!—I must leave my once happy -home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—dash it and hang it—!" protested -Sir Peter, struggling in the web that was being -woven around him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot alter facts by swearing," said -the widow. "Can I bear the sneers of a -Pennymint? the arched eyebrows of a Brooke-Hoskyn? -I cannot. I must let my beautiful house," -with a side glance at him and considerable stress, -"my freehold house. Let it to an undesirable -tenant: a person with a mangle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A mangle in Pomander Walk! "Gobblessmysoul!" -said the Admiral. Also he had been -set thinking. Freehold, eh?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be sure, the expense of moving is nothing," -proceeded Mrs. Poskett, airily, "when one -has Four-hundred a year in the Funds. But -oh! my lovely furniture will be chipped! and, -oh! how shall I part from my friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was moved. He was undeniably -moved. A freehold house, Four-hundred a year -in the Funds, and lovely furniture.—And, -mind you, the widow was buxom; he himself had -described her as a "Dam fine woman." As she -stood there in tearful confusion, she looked -distinctly agreeable; plump and comfortable. To -be sure, the sun had gone down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's not so bad as that?" said the -Admiral, with something approaching sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's worse!" cried Mrs. Poskett. "And -that innocent cat, Sempronius!—What will he -say? He took a chill on Saturday and he's -lying before the kitchen fire wrapped up in a piece -of flannel. When I move, the change will kill -him. Oh, why did n't you leave him to drown?" -she sobbed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was much stirred. A woman's -tears always bowled him over. He could stand -anything but that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dash it and hang it, Ma'am, don't cry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is n't as if I was older," sobbed -Mrs. Poskett. "I could be much older! But I'm -young enough to have a tender heart!" She -mastered herself with an heroic effort; swallowed -her sobs; drove back her tears; and stood before -him, the picture of stoic calm, of noble resignation. -"But never mind! I will be brave! -You—you—shall—not—see—me—weep!" Then -she howled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was indescribably distressed. -"But—Gobblessmysoul!—" he stammered—"what -am I to do with Jim, and the flagstaff, and the -brass gun, and the thrush, and the sweet peas?" -and, pointing to his house, "What am I to do -with Number One?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett raised one tear-bedewed eye -from her handkerchief. "Knock a door through -and make one house of them!" she exclaimed, -as if sweeping away an absurdity. "Oh, these -paltry details!" Then she lifted her face to his -with a smile. Thus does the sun look when it -emerges from behind a rain-cloud. "Sweet -peas? What could be more appropriate? Ain't -I Pamela Poskett? and ain't you Peter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tearful smile, so winsome, so appealing, -was irresistible. "Damme, you 're right!" -cried the Admiral, surrendering at discretion. -"You've swept me fore and aft! You've blown -me out of the sea! By George, Ma'am, I 'll -marry you if you 'll have me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more, as when he saved her cat, -Mrs. Poskett threw her comfortable arms round Sir -Peter's neck. "I 'll have you, Peter," she cried -joyfully; and she added in a tone which clinched -the matter, "I've got you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an eloquent silence. The old elm -shook its leaves with a ripple of laughter. It -had seen many things in its long life, but never -anything so epically grand as the widow's -victory and the Admiral's surrender. Troy -town was besieged in vain during ten long years, -and was then only conquered by a horse. -Five years Mrs. Poskett had besieged Sir Peter -and her victory was due to a cat. You seize -the analogy? When you remember, further, -that Basil had been inveigled by a parrot, you -will realise the danger—or utility, according -to your point of view—of keeping domestic -pets: the undoubted risk of having any commerce -with other peoples' domestic pets—especially -if they are Greeks or widows. I mean, the -people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral was conquered, and like a gentleman, -he made the best of his defeat. That is -the way to turn it into a moral victory. "I 'll -haul out the brass gun and fire it to-night!" -he cried, enthusiastically. "That'll tell the Walk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll tell the Walk!" said Mrs. Poskett, masking -her quite legitimate triumph under renewed -endearments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They say drowning men see all their past lives -in a flash. As the Admiral felt Mrs. Poskett's -arms tighten round his neck, he had a similar -experience. All the eyes he had ever looked into -seemed to be gazing reproachfully at him out -of the darkness; all the names he had ever -whispered seemed now to be whispering in his -ear. Dolores, Inez, Mariette, Suzette, Paquita, -Frederike, Jette, Karen—I know not how -many more—like a swarm of bees they buzzed -around him. Then, too, he suddenly remembered -that upstairs in his old sailor's chest; the chest -that had accompanied him all over the world, -there was a splendid and varied assortment of -locks of hair: black, brown, golden, auburn, -frankly red, straw-coloured, chestnut, and one -off which the dye had faded and shown it -uncompromisingly grey. He must remember to -destroy them before—well, before the door -was knocked through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What escapes he had had! What a mercy he -had not married that fiery Spaniard; that still -more blazing Brazilian; that fickle Portuguese; -that frivolous Mam'selle; that straw-coloured -Dane. He began to realise that Mrs. Poskett -was, like the Walk itself, a Harbour of Refuge. -Here was no rhapsodical nonsense, but safe -comfort, with a freehold house, solid furniture, -and Four-hundred a year. Almost unconsciously -his arms closed round her. She gave -a great, contented sigh, as her head sank on his -shoulder. To have drawn this response from -him was, indeed, victory! I wonder what she -would have done if she could have read his -thoughts, if she could have seen the long procession -of seductive females that was passing across -his mental vision. I am convinced that the -prospective title would have consoled her, and -that she would have accepted his past for the -sake of her future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were abruptly aroused from their -happiness, however. Unperceived by them, Lord -Otford had entered the Walk. He had come -slowly along the crescent, examining each house -in turn, evidently trying to make up his mind -to knock at one of them. He retraced his steps -and had his hand on the handle of the Admiral's -gate, when his attention was attracted by the -sound of murmuring voices. Evidently the -voices of lovers. Quickly and angrily he came -down, just in time to witness the Admiral -implant a chaste but conclusive salute on -Mrs. Poskett's ample brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter!" he cried, scandalised.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-393"> -<span id="peter-he-cried-scandalised"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""PETER!" HE CRIED, SCANDALISED" src="images/img-232.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"PETER!" HE CRIED, SCANDALISED</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-miss-barbara-pennymint-hears-the-nightingale-and-the-lamps-are-lighted"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH MISS BARBARA PENNYMINT HEARS THE -<br />NIGHTINGALE, AND THE LAMPS ARE LIGHTED</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 44%" id="figure-394"> -<span id="chapter-xiv-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XIV headpiece" src="images/img-234.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XIV headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Admiral tried to start away from -Mrs. Poskett, but though her hands slipped -from his neck they clung to his arm. -"Gobblessmysoul! Lord Otford!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett had a delicious foretaste of -future greatness. Here, at the very threshold -of her betrothal, was a real, live lord. It was -well worth all she had been through. "Present -me, Peter," she whispered, "and tell him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is not so easy to tell an old friend you are -going to be married, when you yourself are old -enough to know better. The Admiral made a -bad job of it. "Um—my neighbour—Mrs. Poskett—" -he mumbled, weakly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Widow of Alderman Poskett," she broke -in. "And if Poskett had n't died when he did—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral cut her short. He presented -his friend to her. "Um—Lord Otford—" -then he tried bravely to explain the equivocal -attitude in which they had been discovered. -"Um—I am—she is—we are—" He broke -down under Otford's eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Otford was looking at him in a confounded -quizzical way, as much as to say "Do all the -neighbours in Pomander Walk come out and -kiss in the dark?" So the Admiral turned -crestfallen to Mrs. Poskett, "No, hang it! -You tell him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett was quite equal to the occasion. -She made Lord Otford a magnificent curtsey, -just as she had curtseyed to the Lord Mayor's -Lady, years ago. "Happy to meet any friend -of my future husband," she said, with charming -condescension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford responded to her curtsey with -an equally elaborate bow. "Am I to understand—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Jack," interposed Sir Peter, impatiently, -"understand. Understand without further palaver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford bowed again. "My felicitations," -said he. Mrs. Poskett had expected more; -but Lord Otford was evidently preoccupied, -and abruptly changed the subject. "Madam, -can you spare him a little while?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett was much put out. Was she -to be thrust aside so unceremoniously in the -first flush of her triumph? She bridled, and -answered with some asperity, "I am sure no -real friend of Sir Peter's would wish to tell him -anything his future wife may not hear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford recognised he had made a tactical -mistake. He seized one of her plump hands, -kissed it, and explained with an air of the -greatest consideration, "I assure you, Ma'am, -the matter is strictly personal to myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How could any lady resist such delightful -manners? Mrs. Poskett melted at once. She -shook a playful finger at him. "Naughty Lord -Otford!"—she turned to the Admiral—"Well, -Peter; I 'll wait at the gate. But not more than -five minutes, mind!" And with a roguish shake -of all her curls and all her ribbons she tripped -up to the Admiral's gate, where she stood -planning how his house and hers were to be turned -into one, and how the sweet pea was to be -trained over both, at the same time striving -to hear as much as possible of what the two -friends were saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter!" exclaimed Lord Otford, as soon -as she was out of earshot, "Jack 's disappeared!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral's conscience smote him uneasily. -He knew the rascally Jack was in Doctor Sternroyd's -house; he himself had helped to get him -there; and here was the unfortunate father, -his own bosom friend, in distress. What was he -to do? Betray Jack? Impossible. No. He -would see the matter through. At any rate, he -would gain time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serves you right," he growled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford was deeply hurt. "Did I say, -'Serves you right,' just now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just now?" repeated Sir Peter, not grasping -his friend's meaning. Lord Otford pointed -with his gold-headed cane to where the widow -was examining the houses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otford!" cried the Admiral, angrily; but -his friend interrupted him impatiently. "Peter! -He 's run away with that gel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That he has n't!" replied Sir Peter, greatly -relieved at being able to speak the truth for -once. "The gel's here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fact?" asked Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Solemn," affirmed the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford strode up and down in deep -thought. He brought himself up in front of -the Admiral. There was evidently something -more on his mind. "Peter," he said, "do you -know who her mother is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was getting impatient. He saw all -the old, narrow-minded prejudices being trotted -out once more. "You're not going to begin -that again!" he cried, angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's Lucy Pryor," said Lord Otford quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral stared at him. For a moment -the name conveyed no meaning. "Lucy -Pryor—?" Then the meaning suddenly flashed -on him, and he gasped, "Not Lucy Pryor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy Pryor!" repeated Lord Otford. "Ha!" -he cried, with bitter self-mockery, "I was telling -her how impossible the marriage was—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she turned out to be Lucy Pryor!" The -Admiral was so hugely delighted that for -a moment he was unable to go on. "Jack, my -boy," he roared, doubled up with laughter, -"you must have felt like six-pennorth o' -ha'-pence—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did," answered Lord Otford, grimly; and -then he added shamefacedly, "But now I—I -want to see her again. I must see her again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never know when you 've had enough, eh?" -chuckled Sir Peter, wiping the tears from his -streaming eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Laugh, you brute!" cried Lord Otford. -"Laugh! Well you may. She 'll never allow -me inside her house. She was magnificent! -</span><em class="italics">Patuit dea</em><span>, Peter! She came the Goddess!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did I tell you?" laughed Sir Peter, -waving his handkerchief triumphantly. "Didn't -I say—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you coax her out here?" interrupted -his friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me!" cried the Admiral. "No!—I've told -you: I 'll have nothing to do with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Try how she might, Mrs. Poskett had only -been able to pick up fragments of the -conversation, but those had been enough to arouse -her curiosity. Also she felt she had been -standing neglected much too long. "Now, you two," -she said, coming between them, "I'm sure -you 've gossiped long enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otford turned to her. "Madam," said he, -in his most winning manner, "will you do me -a great favour?"—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure your lordship wouldn't ask me -anything unbecoming," she replied, with pretty -modesty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you persuade Madame Lachesnais to -come out and taste the evening air, not telling -her I am here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett looked at him enquiringly, and -with a woman's intuition read an affirmation -in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't do anything of the sort, Pamela!" -cried the Admiral, warningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned sharply on him. How -thick-headed men were, to be sure! "Peter, I'm -ashamed of you!" Then she addressed Lord -Otford, "With great pleasure, my Lord. Me -and Peter 's that happy, we want to see -everybody ditto."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral stared from one to the other in -amazement. What did she mean? What could -she mean, but one thing? "Gobblessmysoul, -Jack!" he cried at last, in utter amazement, -"Is that it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!" said Mrs. Poskett, with a laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!" said Lord Otford, with a -melancholy smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett tripped joyously to Madame's -house; knocked, and was admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral seized his friend by both hands -with enthusiasm. "Here! Come in! Come in -and have a glass of port-wine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if Madame—" began Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in! She won't budge from the house -if she sees you here. Pamela will warn us, -when she's got her, and," ruefully, "she'll -get her, fast enough." They turned to go -towards Sir Peter's house; but Lord Otford -stopped short, in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had opened his upstairs -window and was leaning out, fanning himself -with his handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoskyn, by all that's wonderful!" said -Lord Otford, eyeing unconscious Brooke-Hoskyn -through his lorgnette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter corrected him. "Brooke-Hoskyn; -with a hyphen. I said you must know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know him!" cried Lord Otford, laughing, -"Know my old butler! I should think so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked the Admiral, not believing -his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He married my cook, Mrs. Brooke! And -now he 's City toast master."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter gave a low whistle. "That's it, is -it?" What a triumph! "When the Walk -knows that—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's your man of fashion, is it, Peter?" -laughed Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Admiral was thinking. "No!" he cried, -suddenly, "Damme! No! he's a good fellow, -and I'm not a blackguard!—Jack, follow my -lead." He made a speaking-trumpet with his -hands and roared, as if Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had -been a mile away, "Ahoy! Brooky, my boy! -Here 's your old friend, Otford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn nearly fell out of the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see you, Hoskyn," said Lord Otford, -cheerfully, with an amiable wave of his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't!" groaned Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, -hoarsely. "Oh, my Lord!—Not at this moment! -I ain't equal to it, your Lordship! I reely ain't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry you're ill," said Lord Otford, with a -pleasant laugh. "Too much to eat, and too -little to do. What you want is a family to keep -you lively!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A family!" almost shrieked Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. -"Oh, my Lord!" He disappeared abruptly -from the window, and Lord Otford and -the Admiral went arm-in-arm and laughing -heartily into the latter's house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now quite dark in the Walk: the -translucent darkness of a perfect June night. The -stillness was so great that you could hear the -river lapping against the bank as it flowed by. -Behind the tower of Chiswick Church the sky -shone pale, but, above, it melted into purple in -which the stars seemed to hang loose. Even the -leaves of the elm had ceased to whisper together -and had gone to sleep. Here and there in the -Walk a faint light appeared behind drawn blinds -and closed curtains. Presently the bow window -of the Misses Pennymint's house was gently -opened, and Barbara and Basil appeared. Their -arms were twined round each other, and Barbara's -pretty head reposed against her lover's shoulder. -Framed in the jasmine that encircled the window, -they made as touching a picture as you could -wish to see. They stood quite still, inhaling -the fragrance of the slumbering elm, and -thinking thoughts unutterable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they opened their window Jack opened -his. He was famished, and there was no -sign of Marjolaine. Could she have forgotten him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'On such a night as this—'" began Basil, -in his richest and deepest notes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack whistled a flourish very softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark, Basil," whispered Barbara, looking -up into his eyes. "Hark! The nightingale!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack whistled a little louder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think that is the nightingale, dearest?" -ventured Basil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack whistled loud and impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least let us make believe it is," murmured -Barbara.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack's whistle rose to a screech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My own one!" boomed Basil, in a voice -like subdued but passionate thunder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack was just on the point of a despairing -effort, when Madame's door opened. He craned -forward in the hope of seeing Marjolaine emerge, -but had to withdraw swiftly, for Mrs. Poskett -came down the steps, followed by Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The air is so balmy, it's a pity to stay -indoors," Mrs. Poskett was saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We were just coming out," answered -Madame. "Marjolaine is strangely restless." She -had come down the steps and now saw -Barbara and Basil in the window. She stopped -astonished. "Ah—?—Why!—Really?—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!" cried Barbara, joyfully, clinging closer -to Basil. "We are to be married at once! We -are going to ask Doctor Sternroyd to get us a -licence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My own one!" Basil's deep diapason reverberated -through the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! I am so very glad!" said Madame, in -her most charming manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to Basil even this gentle congratulation -seemed almost like a desecration. "Come in, -my own," he throbbed, "lest the winds of heaven -visit your face too roughly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" sighed Barbara. What beautiful language -he used, to be sure, and how different from -Charles's. Closely linked they sank back into -the darkness of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Poskett, alluding -to them. "I wonder who'll be getting married -next!" She and Madame came and sat under -the elm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine crept very cautiously down the -steps. She was elaborately concealing something -in the folds of her dress. She stole along the -railings, watching her mother and Mrs. Poskett, -till she got to Doctor Sternroyd's gate. There -she swiftly deposited two packages just inside -the railing. Then she joined the others, looking -as innocent as a lamb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett said simperingly, "I wanted -you to be the first to hear of my betrothal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope he'll make you very happy," said -Madame, cordially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll see to that!" answered Mrs. Poskett; and -her manner showed she meant it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't it wonderful, Maman!" exclaimed -Marjolaine. "An angel's wing has touched -Pomander Walk, and everybody's going to be -married!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my poor child," said Madame, and held -out her hand sympathetically to draw her -daughter to her heart. But Marjolaine had turned -away, and was singing! Actually singing!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In Scarlet Town—" she had begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, you are not going to sing!" said -Madame, almost reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let her, Ma'am," said Mrs. Poskett, "'t will -keep her quiet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Marjolaine stood between her mother and -Doctor Sternroyd's house, and sang.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"In Scarlet Town, where I was born</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>There was a fair Maid dwellin'—"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Ah! these pathetic old ballads!" sighed -Madame, turning to Mrs. Poskett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first note of Marjolaine's song Jack -had appeared at the window. Marjolaine now -half turned to him, and went on:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A pigeon-pie and a loaf of bread</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Are just behind the railin'!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The lamplighter, a wizened little man with a -face like a ferret's, came running round the -corner with his short ladder over his shoulder. -He put it against the lamp-post opposite the -Admiral's house, swarmed up it like a squirrel, -lighted the lamp, slid down the ladder, and ran -quickly to the lamp at Doctor Sternroyd's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack had the door ajar, and was eagerly peeping -out; but in the darkness he could see nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lamplighter!" exclaimed Madame Lachesnais, -with some surprise. "I thought there was -a moon to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he's forgotten," answered Mrs. Poskett. -"Anyhow, he 'll come and put out -the lights as soon as the moon rises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine saw Jack's dilemma and began -singing again:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"All in the merry month of May</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>When green buds they were swellin'!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The lamplighter was on his ladder lighting -the Doctor's lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to congratulate the Admiral," -said Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll send him out to you," answered Mrs. Poskett, -eagerly. She saw her chance of obliging -Lord Otford. Madame rose with her and -accompanied her towards Sir Peter's house. -Marjolaine turned towards Jack, pointing with -violent gesticulations to where the victuals lay:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"You'll find the parcels where I say</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>By lookin' or by smellin'!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Then she ran into the summer-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack caught sight of the food, and with a -delighted "Ha!" crept down the steps. -Unfortunately, however, the lamplighter had heard -Marjolaine's words and followed the direction -in which she had pointed. His little ferret -eyes gleamed greedily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame left Mrs. Poskett to go into the house, -and turned to where she had left her daughter, -but no Marjolaine was to be seen. "Marjolaine!" -she called, anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came slowly out of the Gazebo. -Her hands were folded in front of her and her -eyes were cast down. She looked altogether as -subdued as a Saint in a stained-glass window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me voilà, Maman," she said, demurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame sat under the elm, a little to the -right of the trunk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine came and knelt at her feet and -seized both her hands so that she held the poor, -deluded lady with her back to the houses, while -she herself could watch Jack in his quest of the -pigeon-pie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame was glad of this opportunity of -saying a few well-chosen words to her daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She began very gravely:—"Marjolaine, you -are putting on this gaiety to please me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Maman," said Marjolaine; but at that -moment the lamplighter slid down his ladder, and, -creeping on all fours, began stalking the pigeon-pie. -She saw it was going to be a race between the -lamplighter and Jack for the coveted prize, and -she could not suppress a little startled "Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you cry out like that?" asked -Madame, with deep concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine had the greatest difficulty in the -world to keep from laughing. "Nothing, -Maman!" she said, volubly. "You are not to -be anxious about me. I am quite, quite happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The race was continuing. Although Jack saw -the lamplighter's manoeuvre, he could not -move quickly, for fear of making a noise and -being heard by Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw Lord Otford yesterday," Madame -continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine's entire attention was absorbed -by the rivals. "You saw—?" she repeated, -vaguely. But at that moment the lamplighter -was perceptibly gaining on Jack. "Oh! Oh!" -she cried, with a stifled laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame was shocked. "Marjolaine, you are -laughing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" cried Marjolaine, "it was—it -was surprise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was very stern, very indignant," her -mother proceeded; "but I did not flinch. I -told him you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lamplighter snatched the pigeon-pie and -fled. Jack, speechless with rage and disappointment, -was on the point of rushing after him, but, -to his horror, he caught sight of his father coming -out of the Admiral's house, and only just had -time to bolt back into the Antiquary's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine gave up. In an uncontrollable fit -of hysterical laughter she dashed into her own -house, almost knocking Lord Otford over on -her way, and leaving her poor mother utterly -dumbfounded on the seat. Had grief affected -the poor child's brain? Madame rose hurriedly -to follow her daughter—and there stood Lord Otford.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="showing-how-the-roundabout-road-leads-back-to-the-starting-point"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SHOWING HOW THE ROUNDABOUT ROAD LEADS BACK -<br />TO THE STARTING POINT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 43%" id="figure-395"> -<span id="chapter-xv-headpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XV headpiece" src="images/img-250.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XV headpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Lord Otford!" cried Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive me," he said, very gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray allow me to pass!" for he was -standing right in her road. "I am very anxious -about my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am any judge," said he, with a smile, -"that young lady is in the best of health and -spirits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame was indignant. "You are mistaken. -She is—" but this would never do; she was -just going to let out that Marjolaine was -heart-broken because of Jack Sayle's desertion: the -very last thing Lord Otford must know. "Yes, -of course," she corrected herself. "She is well -and happy, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then," said Lord Otford, "will you favour -me with a few moments?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not help noticing with some -satisfaction how different his manner was from -when they had last met. Then he had tried to -bluster and bully; now he was all deference. -But she would not yield a jot. She drew -herself up proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can see no use in renewing our painful—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He interrupted her deprecatingly. "I am -in a grave perplexity. My son has disappeared—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame took him up quickly. "And you -suspect us of harbouring him!" she cried, with -genuine anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" he protested. "On my honour, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, do be patient," he continued, almost -humbly. "I am here on an errand of conciliation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Conciliation!" echoed Madame, with a touch -of scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack," Lord Otford began explaining, "is -very dear to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjolaine is very dear to me," said Madame, -defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford bowed. "Precisely. I have been -considering. Are we justified in keeping these -two young people apart?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked at him in amazement. "Do -you say that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," he smilingly affirmed. "Marjolaine, -being her mother's daughter, must be a charming gel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame waved the compliment aside. He -went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And although Jack is my son, he is a -thoroughly good fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he is contracted to marry—" Madame -interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is all upset," said Lord Otford; and -the curious thing was that he did not seem at all -put out. "Carrie Thring has taken the bit -between her teeth and eloped with the curate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked at him sharply. "And your -hopes being dashed in that quarter, you come—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you are not fair!" protested Lord Otford. -"I think I should have come in any case. Seeing -you on Saturday has revived many memories—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It needed some such shock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford winced; but he continued bravely. "I -made up my mind not to act my own -father over again. If Jack loved your daughter, -he was to marry her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is no longer the question," said Madame -with emphasis. "My daughter refuses to marry -your son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why? Because she does not love him?" His -voice was very grave and very searching. -Madame tried to answer. She would have -given worlds to have been able to say "Yes." But -she could not say it, and she was silent. -Lord Otford was watching her keenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he said, almost severely. "No; but -only because you tell her to refuse. She simply -obeys out of habit. You are undertaking a heavy -responsibility. Ah! Why punish these children -because I behaved like a fool years ago, when I -knew no better?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame sank on the seat under the elm. Was -he right? Had she acted in mere selfishness? -Was she breaking Marjolaine's heart only to -gratify something very like spite?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford leant over her, and now there -was a ring of passion in his voice. "And why -punish me now, so late? Is it not possible for -me to atone—Lucy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Otford!" she cried, trying to rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't stop me now! Don't go away!" he -entreated, motioning her back. "Ah! we are -poor creatures at best! We go blindly past our -happiness. Let us hark back, Lucy, and try -to find the trail we missed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We!" cried Madame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame was profoundly stirred. His voice -had not changed at all in all those years: just -so had he murmured passionate words in the old -vicarage garden. She must take care, or she -would fall under the spell of it again—and that -must not be. She must take care; harden her -heart; put on a panoply of steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been quite happy," she said at last, -very defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it," he answered, "and I am glad to -know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I purchased my happiness dearly." She -turned on him with bitter resentment. "You -have never realised the suffering you inflicted -on me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can imagine it," he answered, almost -voicelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you cannot," she retorted. "Only those -who have gone through it can imagine it. Ah! think -of pride insulted; ideals smirched; faith -trampled on; tenderness turned back on itself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it all," he murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame went on, more as if she were -communing with herself. "Nature is very strong, -very merciful. I had not forgotten! Never, for -one moment! But life covered the memory." She -paused a moment, sunk in thought. When -she spoke again it was in a gentler voice. "Then -Jules came, and offered me his companionship. -I gave him all I could, and he was content. -Oh! the good, true, generous man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more Lord Otford winced; but he contrived -to say with genuine feeling, "I honour -him." After all, Jules was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I honour his memory," said Madame, gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford spoke very earnestly. "We are -quite frank, Lucy: you loved your husband; I -loved my wife—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there is no more to be said," concluded -Madame, rising, with a little sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! but there is!" he exclaimed, standing -and facing her. "Face your own soul, Lucy, -and tell me: did the thought of the old vicarage -garden at Otford never haunt you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked straight into his eyes. "Never -with any suggestion of disloyalty to Jules," -she said firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I am sure of. But it came. I know." He -dropped his voice, came closer, and spoke -with deep feeling. "Lucy, Lucy, it was always -there! It never left you, as it never left me! -It was the fragrant refuge, into which we crept -in our solitary moments—never with disloyalty -on your side or mine—but for consolation, for -rest. Is that true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was merely the echo of an old song—" -she murmured, under her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how sweet! How tender!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how sad!" Her strength was going. -Every word he said seemed to draw the strength -out of her. Her heart yearned to him; her -whole soul cried out for him; and only her will -resisted. She made one more effort. "No! -No!" she cried, "I banished the memories! -I banish them now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could not! You cannot!" he whispered, -passionately. "No one can!—Think of these -two children: Marjolaine and Jack. Suppose -we part them now: suppose they go their different -ways: do you think either of them will forget -the flowing river, the sheltering elm, or the words -they have whispered under it? Never!—Lucy, -Lucy—" he was bending over her where she -sat, and his voice had all the old thrill—"though -we go astray from first love; though -we undervalue it; yes! though we desecrate it, -it never dies!—On revient toujours à ses -premiers amours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the years that had flown! the unrelenting -years! what of them?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We cannot retrace our steps," she said, -sadly, "we cannot undo suffering; we cannot -win back innocence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can!" he cried. "We started from the -garden; we have been a long journey with all -its chances and adventures; and now we are at -the garden gate again: the flowers we loved -are beckoning to us; the birds we loved are -calling us; we have but to lift the latch—Lucy, -shall we not open the gate and enter the -garden?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We cannot recall the sunrise—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the sunset can be as beautiful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are old," she said; but her voice had -no conviction. As a matter of fact, at that -particular moment she felt she was eighteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I deny it!" he laughed. He felt assured -of victory. "Do I feel old? Do you look -old?—I can't vault a five-barred gate, but I -can open it and get on the other side just as -quickly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him with a wistful smile. -"But—but there are other things—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is, above all, happiness! If we have -no children of our own, Lucy, we shall have -our grandchildren."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" she cried, rising, and shaking her -head. "I have been too persuasive. Marjolaine's -love has been nipped in the bud. And -besides, Jack has run away from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not he, if I know the young rascal!" He -took both her hands in his. "You tell me -Marjolaine is well and happy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but hysterical. You saw for yourself, -just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she a flighty coquette?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I 'll bet you a new hat—No! a diamond -tiara!—she knows where Jack is, and there 's -an understanding between them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed Madame, as the possibility -of this idea struck her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy!" cried Lord Otford, drawing her to -him, "both couples shall be married on the -same day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You have no idea how pretty Madame looked -in her confusion and happiness. You have no -idea how young and handsome Lord Otford -looked in his victory. Love had set the clock -back for both of them—and they were young -man and young maid again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had become of Madame's resentment? -What had become of all the arguments she had -thought of when he first began to speak? His -voice had effaced them all. It was so natural -to be loved by him and to love him, that no other -thing seemed possible. She had nothing to -say. She could only breathe a great sigh of -contentment as he touched her: she felt as if -she had parted with him in the garden only -last night; and to-night he had come again; -and all was as it should be; and all was well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But suddenly she started away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack!" she cried, with horror, "we shall -have to tell them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Otford with comic dismay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't face Marjolaine!" said Madame, -with a pretty blush, which, however, was wasted -in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jack'll roast me properly!" groaned Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see it's hopeless! We've been telling -them how utterly impossible their marriage is, -and now we propose to get married ourselves! -How they 'll laugh at us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let 'em!" cried Lord Otford. "By Gad, it -shall be happy laughter!" And therewith he -drew Madame into his arms and kissed her; -and I cannot honestly say she resisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they were interrupted by Doctor Sternroyd, -who at that very moment came stumbling -out of his house. Also the Eyesore and Jim -came round the corner together, with their -arms affectionately round each other's necks -and every symptom of having spent the larger -part of Mrs. Poskett's bribes. The Eyesore -found his box with difficulty and sank on it -with relief. It was with a shaky hand he took -up his rod and fell to fishing again. Jim -meandered deviously into the Admiral's house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh!" whispered Madame, warningly, as -she saw the antiquary. She turned to him -with that preternatural calmness which ladies -know so well how to assume under such -circumstances, and said, alluding to something -he was carrying in his hand, "Why, Doctor, -are you fetching milk so late? I can give you -some."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Ma'am," said the Doctor, with suppressed -rage. "I am not seeking the lacteal -fluid. As you see me, I, the Reverend Jacob -Sternroyd, Doctor of Divinity and Fellow of -the Society of Antiquaries, am on my way to -procure Ale!—" And with a face expressive -of the utmost disgust he held out a very -diminutive white milk-jug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Madame, with a tinge of -astonishment. Then, in order to account for the presence -of a stranger, she added, "This is Lord Otford."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a cry of "Good Heavens!" the conscience-stricken -Doctor let the jug fall. Happily it fell -on the lawn and was not damaged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With native courtesy Lord Otford picked -it up and handed it to its owner. "Allow me: -your jug, I think." Then, as a sudden idea -occurred to him, "By the way, Doctor—" he -cast a meaning glance at Madame—"can you -tell me anything about a marriage-licence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Madame looked down, with another very -becoming blush: but the Doctor's behaviour was -quite extraordinary. He threw up his hands in -guilty despair. "I said so! I knew it would -come out!—" He appealed to Madame. -"Miss Barbara told you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—but—" answered Madame, puzzled -and astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor continued rapidly, while the -couple could only stare at him in mute amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wash my hands of it! Two whole days, -one of which was the blessed Sabbath, I have -been up to my neck in cabals and intrigues! -I have done!—" He fumbled in his pockets -and ultimately produced a legal-looking -document. "My Lord, it was very kind of you to -approach the subject so considerately, but here -is what you ask for. His Grace was very -reluctant, but the pipe, which I now fear was not -genuine, did it." Then, as if he had unburdened -himself of some oppressive load of guilt, he -cried, "Hah! My conscience is white again! -I will tell the young fire-brand!" And with -that he hurried back into the house, calling, -"Jack! Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what is all this?" cried Lord Otford. -He unfolded the paper and took it under the -lamp. As soon as he had read the first lines, he -gave a cry of amused surprise. "What do you -say now, Lucy?"—Then he read aloud, "John -Sayle, of Pomander Walk, in the Parish of -Chiswick, bachelor, and Marjolaine Lachesnais, -also of Pomander Walk, spinster—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Under our very noses!" exclaimed Madame, -half vexed and half amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And old Dryasdust has been harbouring -Jack! And now he 's gone to tell him!—Lucy, -let's see what desperate thing they 'll do next. -Come!" He drew her gently into the Gazebo, -and for a moment there was complete silence -in the Walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But suddenly this was shattered by a fierce -outcry in Doctor Sternroyd's passage. The -door was flung open and the Doctor appeared, -vainly trying to bar Jack's way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my dear young friend—" the Doctor -was protesting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me pass!" shouted Jack, livid, and -thrusting his host aside. "For five years I 've -been a sailor, and I can't think of the words I -want!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear, dear! Tut, tut!" said the Doctor; -but he did not wait. The conspiracy at any -rate was off his mind. He retired into his -house, and carefully locked the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack rushed to Marjolaine's house and -boldly performed a long rat-tat with the brass -knocker, muttering to himself all the time, -"The old fool! Oh, my stars! the silly old fool!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nanette appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Miss Marjory that—" began Jack, -violently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plait-il?" said Nanette, impassively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hang!—Er—deet ah Madermerzell—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine ran into the passage. "Jack!" -she cried, much alarmed. "Oh! What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come out! Come out!" cried Jack, seizing -her hand and dragging her hastily down the -steps, to Nanette's horror and indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, mais!" the latter exclaimed, "Oú est donc -Madame?" and went in to look for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jack was incoherent. "Sternroyd!" he gasped. -"He had the licence! Had it! We were to be -married to-morrow! And he 's gone and given -it—to whom do you think?—to my father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed poor Marjolaine, "then -all is over!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he cried, with magnificent determination. -"All 's to begin again! Take me to -your mother. Then I 'll take you to my father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford and Madame Lachesnais had -come out of the summer-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what you should have done at first, -sir!" said Lord Otford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father!" cried Jack, amazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a half-frightened cry of "Maman!" -Marjolaine threw herself in her mother's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Jack was not to be trifled with. He -faced his father heroically. "It's no use, sir! -You can cut me off with a shilling, but I mean -to marry Marjory!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine was not to be outdone in courage. -"Maman!" she said, with a radiant face, "he -came back; and I 'm going to marry him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Otford turned gravely to Madame. -"What do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, God bless them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman!" cried Marjolaine, hugging her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I, too, say God bless them!" cried Lord -Otford, heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjory!" shouted Jack; and in a moment -the lovers were in each other's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm," suggested Lord Otford, drily, "I -believe this is a public thoroughfare!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lovers separated abashed. "Oh, sir!" -said Jack, "please give me back that document."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no, Jack," answered his father, "I -want that." And he and Madame glanced at -each other guiltily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, sir!" protested Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Um—the fact is—" Lord Otford had -never felt so shy in his life. In vain he appealed -to Madame for support; she was much too busy -examining the very pretty point of her very -pretty shoe. "I say, the fact is—with slight -alterations—it may come in useful. Er—I, -too, am John Sayle—and—um—I, too, am -going to get married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjory," said Jack, very gravely, "my -father's trying to be funny."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjolaine's attention was divided -between her mother and Lord Otford. The clumsy -shyness of the one and the pretty confusion of -the other gave her, as she would have said in -French, furiously to think. Besides which, we -must not forget she was in her Mother's confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maman," she said, roguishly, "I believe!—Lord -Otford! I believe—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Believe, my child, believe!" cried Lord -Otford, glad not to have to enter into further -explanations. He took her pretty head between -his hands, and kissed her. "Here 's the -document, Jack; and—ah—there is a pleasant -seat under the elm; and agreeable retirement -in the—ah—Gazebo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he and Madame sat in the arbour, and -Jack and Marjolaine sat under the elm, and the -leaves of that wise old tree having been awakened -by Jack, asked each other with a pleasant -rustle which couple was the happier of the two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a great to-do at the Admiral's. -I think Mrs. Poskett had been watching the -lovers; for now the door burst open, and the -Admiral and Jim hauled out the little brass -cannon, followed by Mrs. Poskett, all in a -flutter with pleasant alarm. While they were -planting the gun close behind the unconscious -Eyesore's back, the lamplighter came running -in—he always ran—and put out the first -lamp. Barbara and Basil came slowly out of -their house, and leant over the railings in a -close embrace, while Ruth stood watching -them from the upper window. Basil, indeed, -had brought his fiddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haul her out!" roared Sir Peter, alluding -to the gun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Poskett uttered a little scream. "Oh, -Peter! I 'm frightened!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim reassured her in a hoarse grunt. "It 's -all right, Mum, I 've emptied her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lamplighter put out the lower lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you doing that for?" cried Jack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lamplighter pointing over his shoulder, -replied laconically, "Moon!" and ran off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Peter was just about to apply a lighted -candle to the touch-hole of the gun, when -Mr. Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn, much dishevelled, threw -open his window, and cried in a horrified whisper, -"Sir Peter! Sir Peter!—For Heaven's sake, -don't fire that gun!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why the devil not, sir?" roared Sir Peter, angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh!" cried Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, waving a -frantic hand. "</span><em class="italics">It's a boy!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobblessmysoul!" cried Sir Peter, "I'll -be godfather!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all the Walk was delighted, and the leaves -of the elm clapped their hands together in the -evening breeze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Basil gently disengaged his arm from -Barbara's waist and began playing the slow -movement of the Kreutzer Sonata very, very softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, behind the tower of Chiswick -Church, up leapt the great full moon, turning -the river to molten light, and flooding the Walk -with gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Admiral and Mrs. Poskett hurried to -the Gazebo—but that was full. They turned -to the seat under the elm—but that was -occupied. "Gobblessmysoul!" said the Admiral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they had to be content to stand very close -together, watching the river. And Sempronius -came and rubbed his arched back against the -Admiral's legs. Jim and Nanette looked on -from their door-steps in amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his bow-window Doctor Sternroyd was -gazing fondly at a faded miniature, while with -his other hand he raised a glass of punch on -high. "Araminta!" he sighed, and drank to her -memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Selina!" exclaimed Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Gazebo there was a very tender whisper:—"Lucy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjolaine's head sank on her lover's shoulder -with a happy, "Oh, Jack!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruth was showering blossoms of jasmine on -Barbara and Basil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a great silence, emphasized by -the yearning notes of Basil's fiddle. And -through the silence came Ruth's voice, tender -and wistful:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well!—I'm sure we all hope they'll -live happily ever after!"—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, for the first time in his life, the Eyesore -caught a fish.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 41%" id="figure-396"> -<span id="chapter-xv-tailpiece"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Chapter XV tailpiece" src="images/img-267.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Chapter XV tailpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>POMANDER WALK</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47925"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47925</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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