by Ian Hay
CHAPTER XII
A CHANGE OF ATMOSPHERE
Miss Joan Gaymer sat in a Windsor chair on the landing outside thebathroom door at Manors. It was half-past eight in the morning--an hourwhen traffic outside bathroom doors is apt to be congested.
Miss Gaymer was wrapped in a bluish-grey kimono, which, whether byaccident or design,--I fear there is very little doubt about it,really,--exactly matched the colour of her eyes. At the same time itfailed to conceal the fact--_horresco referens_--that she was stillattired in what American haberdashers call "slumber-wear." Her slim barefeet were encased in red slippers, one of which dangled precariouslyfrom her right big toe, and her hair hung down her back in two tightlyscrewed but not unbecoming pigtails. At present she was engaged in aheated altercation with two gentlemen for right of entry into thebathroom.
The only excuse that I can offer for her conduct is that, although shewas nearly twenty-one, in her present setting she looked about fourteen.
The gentlemen, who wore large hairy dressing-gowns, with towels swathedround their necks and mighty sponges in their hands, did not, it must beconfessed, show to such advantage as their opponent. They weredistinctly tousled and gummy in appearance, and their wits, as is usualwith the male sex early in the morning, were in no condition for rapierwork. They had both been patiently awaiting their turn for the bath whenJoan arrived, and they were now listening in helpless indignation to aperemptory order to return to their rooms and stay there till sent for,and not to molest an unprotected female on her way to her ablutions.
"But look here, Joey," said one,--he was a pleasant-faced youth of aboutnineteen,--"we were _both_ here before you; and you know we arrangedlast night that you were to come at twenty past--"
"Binks," commanded the offender in the Windsor chair, "go straight backto your bedroom and don't argue with me. If you are good I'll give yourdoor a tap on my way back."
But Binks was in no mood for compromise, and furthermore wanted hisbreakfast.
"It's not playing the game," he grumbled; "I was here first, Cherub wassecond--"
"_Who_ isn't playing the game?" flashed out Miss Gaymer. "Have you_shaved_, Binks?"
Binks, taken in flank, admitted the impeachment,--which, it may bementioned, was self-evident. "You haven't, either," was the best retorthe could make.
"No, but I've brushed my teeth," said the ever-ready Miss Gaymer.
"Well," pursued Binks desperately, "you haven't done your hair."
"My lad," replied his opponent frankly, "if you were a woman and had toput things on over your head, you wouldn't have done your hair either."
Binks, utterly demoralised, fell out of the fighting line.
"Joey, _I've_ shaved," murmured the second gentleman in a deprecatingvoice.
Miss Gaymer turned a surprised eye upon him.
"_Why_, Cherub, dear?" she inquired.
"Cherub," who was still of an age to be exceedingly sensitive on thesubject of his manly growth, blushed deeply and subsided. But hiscompanion was made of sterner stuff.
"Come along, Cherub!" he said. "Let's run her into her bedroom and lockher in until we've bathed. Hang it! It's the third time she's done itthis week."
"Lay one finger on me, children," proclaimed Miss Gaymer, "and I'llnever speak to either of you again!"
She made ready for battle by twining her feet in and out of the legs ofthe Windsor chair, and sat brandishing a loofah, the picture of outragedpropriety.
Her heartless opponents advanced to the attack, and seizing the arms ofthe chair bore it swiftly, occupant and all, down the passage. Joan,utterly unprepared for these tactics, was at first too taken aback to doanything but shriek and wield the loofah; but shortly recovering herpresence of mind, she slipped off the seat, and, doubling round herbearers, who were hampered by the chair, scampered back towards thebathroom--only to run heavily into the arms of an unyielding, sunburned,and highly embarrassed gentleman, who had been standing nervously on theother side of the door of that apartment for the last five minutes,awaiting an opportunity to escape, and had suddenly emerged therefrom ona dash to his bedroom, under the perfectly correct impression that itwas a case of now or never.
"Oh, I _beg_ your--Why, it's Hughie!" cried Joan. "Yes, it _really_ is!"
They recoiled, and stood surveying each other. It was their firstmeeting. Hughie, owing to a breakdown on the branch line, had arrivedlate the night before, after the ladies had gone to bed. Joan and he hadnot set eyes on each other for nine years.
Miss Gaymer recovered her equanimity first.
"You're not a bit changed, Hughie," she observed with a disarming smile."A little browner--that's all. Am I?"
Hughie did not answer for a moment. He was genuinely astonished at whathe had just seen, and not a little shocked. Where young girls areconcerned, there is no greater stickler for propriety than your man ofthe world; and this sudden instance of the latter-day _camaraderie_ ofyoung men and maidens had rather taken Hughie's breath away. He feltalmost as fluttered as an early Victorian matron. Suddenly he realisedthat he had been asked a question.
"Changed?" he said haltingly. "Well, it's rather hard to say,until--until--"
"Until I've got my hair up and more clothes on?" suggested Miss Gaymer."Perhaps you're right. Still, I look rather nice, don't you think?" sheadded modestly, preening herself in the kimono. "However, you'll see meat breakfast. Meanwhile I want you to hold those two boys back while Iget into the bathroom. Ta-ta, dears!"
And with an airy wave of her hand to the unwashed and discomfited firmof Dicky and Cherub, who stood grinning sheepishly in the background,Hughie's ward slipped under her guardian's arm and disappeared into thebathroom, with a swish of caerulean drapery and a triumphant banging ofthe door.
Half an hour later Hughie descended to breakfast, there to be greeted byhis host, Jack Leroy, a retired warrior of thirty-eight, of comfortableexterior and incurable laziness, and his wife, the one-time render ofHughie's heart-strings in the person of Miss Mildred Freshwater. Anotherold friend was the Reverend Montague D'Arcy, whom we last saw dancingthe Cachuca by the waters of the Cam. Here he was, a trifle more rotundand wearing Archidiaconal gaiters, but still the twinkling-eyed D'Arcyof old. One or two other guests were seated at the table, but asyet there was no sign of Joey. When she did appear, it was in ariding-habit; and after a hearty meal, in no way accelerated by urgentand outspoken messages from the front door, where her swains weresmoking the pipe of patience, she dashed off in a manner which causedmost of those who were over-eating themselves round the table to referenviously to the digestive equipment of the young, and left Hughie to beentertained by his host and hostess.
"You'll find her a queer handful, Hughie," said Mrs. Leroy, as she satplacidly embroidering an infantine garment in the morning sun on theverandah,--in the corner of which the current issues of the "Spectator"and "Sporting Life," fully unfurled, together with two pairs ofperpendicular boot-soles and a cloud of cigar-smoke, proclaimed the factthat the Army and the Church were taking their ease together,--"but Iwant you to remember all the time that she is _sound_. You'll be temptedto disbelieve that over and over again, but don't! She has been utterlyspoiled by everybody, and you must give her time to find her levelagain. Left to herself, she would be as good as gold. I don't say shewouldn't do something rather _outre_ now and then from sheer animalspirits, but that doesn't count. She's young, of course, so shecan't--she can't be expected to--you know what I mean?"
"Stand corn," remarked a voice from behind the "Sporting Life."
"Thank you, dear: that's just it. You see, Hughie, men egg heron,--they're all alike: Jack and Mr. D'Arcy are as bad as any,--and shegets excited and carried away, and occasionally she does somethingstupid and conspicuous. Five minutes later she is bitterly ashamed, andcomes and cries her heart out to me. People know nothing about _that_,of course: all they do know is that she did the stupid thing, and theycall her a forward little cat and a detestable im
p. Don't you believethem, Hughie!
"Then you'll find her absurdly impulsive and generous: you could havethe clothes off her back if you wanted them. The other day she came homein floods of tears because of a story which a beggar-woman with a babyhad told her. It was the usual sort of story, but it was quite enoughfor Joey. She had carried the baby herself for about two miles, andgiven the mother all the money she had, and made her promise faithfullyto come and see me next day. Of course the woman never turned up, andJoey's blouse had to be burned,--_oh_, that baby!--but that sort ofthing doesn't alter her faith in human nature. And she stands the_great_ test, Hughie. She hasn't got one set of manners when men areabout and another when they are not. But she's a kittle creature. Youmust be tender with her, and--"
"Run her on the snaffle, old man--what?" corroborated the "SportingLife."
Hughie blew through his pipe meditatively.
"Seems to me, Mrs. Leroy," he said at length, "that I'm in for a prettythick time. Do you think she's at all likely to take to my presentmethods, or must I learn some new tricks? Afraid I'm not much of alady's man. Still, Joey and I used to be great friends, once. Won't thatcount for something?"
"I'm not sure," said Mrs. Leroy. "You know how the young loathe beingthought young, or reminded of their youth? Joey is just in that frame ofmind at present. Because you were a boy of twenty-one when she was achild of twelve, she may darkly suspect you of desiring to continue onthe footing of those days. Don't do that, for mercy's sake! For allpractical purposes you are much nearer to each other in age than youwere--"
A chuckle reverberated through the peaceful verandah, and the"Spectator" and "Sporting Life" converged for a moment as if to share aconfidence.
"Jack," inquired Mrs. Leroy sternly, "what were you saying to Mr. D'Arcyjust now?"
"Nothin', dear," said a meek voice.
"Mr. D'Arcy, what was he saying to you?"
Mr. D'Arcy took in a reef in the "Spectator" and replied suavely,--
"He made use of a sporting expression, dear lady, with regard to yourplans for our friend Marrable's future, which I was happily unable tounderstand."
"Jack," said Mrs. Leroy in warning tones, "people who put their oar inuninvited get taken out for afternoon calls--in the brougham, with bothwindows up!"
The "Sporting Life" was promptly expanded to its full extent, andsilence reigned again. Presently Mrs. Leroy observed cheerfully,--
"By the way, Hughie, you are home just in time for a dance--the HuntBall."
Hollow groans burst from behind the newspapers.
"Oh, look here!" said Hughie frankly. "I mean--not really?"
"Yes: I promised Nina Fludyer to back her up and bring a 'bus-load ofpeople. Why don't you want to come?"
"Well, for one thing I have only danced twice since I went down fromCambridge. One time was at a Viceregal reception in Calcutta, and theother was in Montmartre--under less formal conditions. I'll tell youwhat--you and your house-party go to the ball and enjoy yourselves, andyour husband and I will keep each other company here--eh?"
Captain Leroy put down his paper and said, "Good scheme!" in the loyalbut mournful tones of one who realizes that it is a forlorn hope, butthat one might as well have a shot for it. "In fact, dear," he continueddesperately, "I was thinkin' of takin' Marrable out that very night tolie out for poachers. Old Gannet was tellin' me that the NorthWood--that is--"
He observed his wife's withering eye, and became suddenly interested inthe advertisements on the back page of his periodical.
"Jack," said Mrs. Leroy in a tone of finality, "on Tuesday night you puton your best bib and tucker and come with us--that's flat."
"All right, m' dear," replied her husband in a voice which said toHughie, "I was afraid it wouldn't work, old man!"
"And why don't _you_ want to come, Hughie?" continued Mrs. Leroy,suddenly turning on her guest.
"Well, I am not cut out for balls," said Hughie. "Prefer the open air,somehow."
"If open air is all you want," remarked Mrs. Leroy grimly, "the TownHall at Midfield is the draughtiest building in the county."
"Balls are dull affairs," urged the faithful but misguided Leroy,"compared with the excitement and--er--suspense--"
"If you want excitement and suspense," replied the inexorable Mrs.Leroy, "dance the Lancers with Lady Fludyer--fifteen stone ofimperfectly balanced _blanc-mange_!"
"And just a spice of risk--"
"Risk? My dear boy, try the Ball Committee's champagne!"
Captain Leroy, defeated at all points, once more subsided; but D'Arcytook up the argument.
"Joking apart, Mrs. Leroy," he said, "it's an awful thing to be asupernumerary man at a dance in the country. You crawl in at the tail ofyour party, and shake hands with the governess, under the impressionthat she is your hostess. You are introduced to a girl, and book adance. You don't catch her name, so you write down 'Red hair and bird ofparadise' on your programme, and leave her. Of course you know nobody;so, after booking a few more wallflowers, you still find a good deal oftime at your disposal. You can always tell a male wallflower. Women canusually brazen it out: they put on an air which implies that they haverefused countless offers, and are sitting on a hard bench because theylike it."
"They can't deceive the other women, though," said Mrs. Leroy.
"Still," agreed Hughie, "they impose on men all right. But, as D'Arcysays, a male wallflower is hopeless. He looks miserable, and eithermopes in a corner like a new boy at school, or else reads away at hisprogramme and peers about for a partner who isn't on it."
"Why not try the smoking-room?"
"The smokin'-room," interpolated Leroy, "is all right for the regularPhilistine. But if _I_ go there, I find it in possession of a biliousoctogenarian and a retired major-general. They are sittin' in front ofthe fire with a cigar apiece. They glare at me when I come in, and thengo on buckin' to each other. Presently they stop, and one says: 'Isuppose you are not a dancin' man, sir,' in a way which implies that hedoesn't know what the devil young men are comin' to nowadays. And bythis time I'm so ashamed of myself that I simply bolt out of the room,with some yarn about a brief rest between two dances, and go and sitamong the hats and coats in the cloak-room until it is time to go andhunt up the next freak on my programme. Rotten job, I call it!"
Mrs. Leroy surveyed the three orators with an air of serene amusement.
"I _have_ roused a storm," she said. "But you are coming on Tuesday--allthree! Now, Hughie, I know Jack is dying to take you round the stablesand plantations. When you have smacked all the horses' backs and takenthe pheasants' temperatures, come in. I want to introduce you to myoffspring. You are fond of children, I know."
"I know I shall be fond of yours, Mildred," said Hughie.
"Thank you--that's nicely put. But they really are rather pets, though Isay it who shouldn't."
"Rum little beggars," mused the male parent. "Bite your head off if theysee you havin' a sherry and bitters before dinner. Got a sort ofreligious maniac of a nurse," he explained. "Been saved, and all that.Save _you_ for tuppence, Marrable!"
"She's a queer old thing," said Mrs. Leroy, "but such a good nurse thather weaknesses don't matter much. The children are never sick orsorry--wait till I tap wood! your head will do, Jack--and simply loveher."
"I was pleased to learn from their own lips," remarked D'Arcy, "thatthey have been enthusiastic teetotalers from birth, and are both ardentsupporters of Foreign Missions."
"And the baby?" inquired Hughie.
"Too young," replied Leroy; "but that doesn't excuse the poor littlesinner from havin' to wear a blue ribbon."
"How does the nurse regard you, Leroy?" asked D'Arcy.
"Lost sheep--hard case--bad egg generally," replied that gentlemanresignedly. "She's given me up, I'm glad to say; but she'll be onHughie's track in no time. Come along."
In the joy of roaming round the familiar plantations and stables Hughieallowed the existence of Mildred Leroy's offspring to fade from hismemory; and it was not
until the party gathered for luncheon that he wasreminded of the introduction in store for him.
The assembled company consisted of the host and hostess, D'Arcy, Hughie,Joan, and the young gentleman previously referred to as "Cherub." Theothers had departed on a sailing expedition. Joan had declined to go,alleging that she must stay at home and entertain her "keeper," as shehad now christened Hughie; and Cherub had speciously pleaded a tendencyto _mal de mer_, and remained at home to steal a march on his rivals.
The party was completed by two chubby infants of seven and five, inlarge pinafores and short white socks, who were presented toBrevet-Uncle Hughie as Theodora and Hildegard, though Hughie discovered,after a brief experience of their society, that they answered withoutresentment and much more spontaneity to the appellations of "Duckles"and "Stodger" respectively.
They were deposited--it seems the right word--in the dining-room by anaustere and elderly female, who groaned heavily at the sight of CaptainLeroy, and eyed Hughie with unconcealed distrust before withdrawing. Thesmall girls took their places one on each side of their mother, and sat,like two well-bred little owlets, taking stock of their new uncle.Presently their vigilance relaxed. It is a truism that teetotalers arehearty eaters, and the consumption of what was placed before them soonoccupied the attention of Mesdames Duckles and Stodger to the exclusionof all else, the latter exhibiting a particularly praiseworthy attentionto duty.
Their sole contribution to the conversation was offered when Leroypassed the claret to Hughie.
"Wine," remarked Duckles severely, "is a mocker!"
"Stwong dwink," corroborated Stodger, turning up the whites of her eyes,"is raging!"
The two ladies then groaned heavily in concert, and, having thuscontributed their mite to the redemption of a sinner, resumed theirrepast.
At the end of the meal the numbers of the company were augmented by thearrival of John Marrable Leroy, aged two years--an infant whoseapoplectic countenance sadly belied the small piece of blue ribboninserted in his bib. Having taken his seat in his mother's lap, heproceeded, after the manner of babies, to give his celebratedentertainment. For the benefit of the company he obligingly identifiedvarious articles upon the table, and then proceeded to give anexposition (assisted by manual contortions) of the exact whereabouts ofthe Church, the Steeple, the Door, and the People. After this, withoutwarning or apology, he deposited a nude foot in his mother's plate,having in some mysterious manner got rid of his shoe and sock under thetable; and was proceeding to enumerate the respective marketingexperiences of a family of little pigs, when his mother, deciding thatit was high time this _seance_ came to an end, called upon him to saygrace on behalf of the company.
John Marrable Leroy reluctantly ceased fingering his toes, and twistedhimself into a state of devotional rigidity. He then closed his eyes,folded his hands, and breathed stertorously. All waited with devoutlybowed heads for his benediction.
"T'ank God--" began Master Leroy at length.
There was another tense pause.
"T'ank God--" repeated the infant despondently.
Another hiatus.
"'_For_'--dearest," prompted his mother.
A smile of intense relief illuminated the supplicant's troubledcountenance.
"--Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten!" he gabbled cheerfully; and themeeting broke up in unseemly confusion.
* * * * *
It was a hot afternoon, and Hughie, who as yet was far from gettingtired of doing nothing, was well content to sprawl in a basket-chairunder a great copper-beech, and watch the others play croquet.
Presently Joan, swinging a mallet, came and sat on the grass beside him.
"Well, Hughie?" she began, regarding her comptroller rather quizzically.
"Well, Joey?"
Then they both laughed, or rather chuckled. The curious part about itwas that while Hughie laughed "Ha, ha!" deep down, Joey did the same.Tee-heeing and high-pitched feminine shrieking were beyond her compass.She was the Joey of old, with the same gruff voice, though she had gotover her difficulty with the _r_'s and _l_'s.
"It seems rummy," observed Miss Gaymer reflectively, "my being put inyour charge like the guard of a train. Do you expect me to obey you?"
"Yes," said Hughie. He felt he was missing an opportunity of sayingsomething bright and striking, but "Yes" was the only word he couldthink of besides "No."
"Oh!" replied Miss Gaymer enigmatically.
"Don't you intend to?" inquired Hughie.
"Well, it depends on what you tell me to do. If it was anything thatdidn't matter much I might do it, sometimes, just to save your face. Butas a rule I shouldn't."
"Oh!" said Hughie, in his turn.
"I may as well tell you at once," continued the lady, "the things thatit's no use scolding me about. First of all, I always choose my ownfriends, and never take recommendations or warnings from anybody. Thenyou mustn't interfere with my dancing or sailing or riding, because Ilove them better than anything in the world. Then, you mustn't try toprevent my reading books and seeing plays that you think are bad for me,because that sort of thing is simply not _done_ nowadays. And of courseyou mustn't call me extravagant if I dress nicely. Also, you mustn'texpect me to go in for good works, because I hate curates. And don'tgive me advice, because I loathe it. On the other hand, it may comfortyou to know--it does _most_ men, for some reason--that I don't want avote and I don't smoke cigarettes. Oh, the poor little mite!"
She was on her feet and across the lawn in a flash, to where the obeseStodger, prostrate upon a half-buried tree-root, was proclaiming to theheavens the sorrow of a sudden transition from the perpendicular to thehorizontal. She comforted the child with whole-hearted tenderness, andafter taking her turn in the game of croquet, returned to Hughie and satdown beside him again.
"Well--what do you think of me?" she inquired suddenly.
Hughie regarded her intently.
"I don't know yet," he said. "I want to see a little more of you."
"Most people," said Miss Gaymer with dignity, "make up their minds aboutme at once."
"I won't do that," said Hughie. "It wouldn't be quite fair."
Joan pondered this retort and finally flushed like a child.
"That means that you have taken a dislike to me," she said.
"I didn't mean it that way," said Hughie, much distressed,--"really!"
"Anyhow, it means that you haven't made up your mind about me,"persisted Joan.
"That is true," admitted Hughie, who was no hand at fencing.
"Well, do it soon," said Miss Gaymer. "I'm not accustomed to being puton trial. I may mention to you," she added complacently, "that I amconsidered a great success. Do you know what Jacky Penn told me?"
"No; what?" inquired Hughie perfunctorily. He was beginning tounderstand the inwardness of Mildred Leroy's warning that the girlbeside him had not yet found her feet.
"He told me," said Joan, with an unaffected sigh of pleasure, "that themen here all call me 'The Toast.' What do you say to that?"
"A Toast," said Hughie rather heavily, "is usually 'an excuse for aglass.' I shouldn't like to think of you merely as that, Joey."
Miss Gaymer eyed her guardian with undisguised exasperation.
"Hughie, you have got fearfully old-maidish in the last nine years," shesaid. "Where have you been? In any decent society?"
"Sometimes; but not often. Not what _you_ would call decent society,Joey."
"Well," remarked Miss Gaymer, turning her opponent's flank withcharacteristic readiness, "whatever it was, it wasn't very particularabout clothes. Hughie, your get-up is perfectly _tragic_. If you aregoing to be my keeper you will have to begin by dressing decently. Idon't know who your tailor is, but--Che-e-erub!"
"What ho!" came from the croquet-lawn.
"Come here, at once."
Cherub obediently put down his mallet and approached. Having arrived, hehalted and stood to attention.
"Cherub," commanded Miss Gaymer, "turn
round and round till I tell youto stop, and let Mr. Marrable see your clothes."
Much flattered, Cherub rotated serenely on his axis for the benefit ofthe untutored Marrable, while Miss Gaymer ran over his points.
"Must I have a waist?" inquired Hughie meekly.
"Yes--if you've _got_ one," replied Joan, surveying her guardian'samorphous shooting-jacket doubtfully.
"And purple socks?"
"Green will do, old man," remarked the _mannequin_ unexpectedly.
"Cherub, keep quiet!" said the _coutumiere_. "You have absolutelynothing whatever to recommend you but your clothes, so don't spoil it bybabbling. There, Hughie! That is the sort of thing. You must go up totown next week and order some. Run away, Cherub! Now, another thing,Hughie. Look at your hands. They're like a coal-heaver's, except thatthey're clean. Can't you get them attended to?"
Hughie surveyed his hands in a reminiscent fashion. They wereserviceable members, and had pulled their owner through many roughplaces. At present the palms bore the mark of the Orinoco'scoal-shovels, and there was a great scar on one wrist where Hughie hadincautiously touched a hot bearing. There was also an incision in themiddle knuckle of the right hand, caused by the impact of Mr. Gates'sfront teeth on an historic occasion. There were other and older marks,and most of them had some interesting story attached to them. But ofcourse Joan did not know this. To her they were large, unsightly,un-manicured hands--only that and nothing more. Hughie sighed. All hisold assets seemed to have become liabilities, somehow.
"Aren't they a scandal, Hughie?" Joan repeated.
"I suppose they are, Joey," said Hughie, coming out of his reverie."Right O! I'll get them seen to. I don't suppose they're ever likely tobe much use to me again," he added in a depressed tone, "so they mightas well be made ornamental. I'll go and consult Sophy Fullgarney aboutthem when I get back to town."
"Who's she?" said Joey quickly.
"Manicurist--before your time," said Hughie briefly, pleased to feelthat he could give points to his ward in knowledge of something. "Anymore requirements, Joey?"
"Let me see. Oh, yes. Can you dance?"
"Used to waltz," said Hughie cautiously.
"Decently?"
"I can get round a room."
"Can you reverse properly?"
"If a man reversed in my young days," said Hughie, "we used to regardhim as a bounder. Do they do it now?"
"Yes, always. Can you do anything else?"
"The usual things--Lancers and polka. Danced a reel once in Scotland."
"Nobody dances the polka now, and I hate the Lancers. Can you two-step?"
"Never even heard of it."
Miss Gaymer sighed.
"Never heard of the Boston, I suppose?" she said resignedly.
"Never in my life," said Hughie. "Look here," he added, inspired by asudden hope, "perhaps it would be as well if I stayed at home on Tuesdaynight--eh?"
"_Quite_ as well," said Miss Gaymer candidly. "But I don't supposeMildred will let you off. You'll be wanted by the wallflowers."
"But not by Joey, apparently."
"I don't dance with rotters," said Miss Gaymer elegantly. "I ampractically booked up already, too. However, if you apply at once Imight give you _one_." She thought for a moment. "I'll try you withnumber eight."
"We had better not settle at present," said Hughie. "I should like tohave a look round the ballroom before I tie myself down in any way. ButI'll bear your application in mind."
Miss Joan Gaymer turned and regarded her companion with unfeignedastonishment. He was still sprawling, but his indolent pose of lazycontentment was gone, and for a moment challenge peeped out of hissteely eyes. She rose deliberately from the grass, and walked with greatstateliness back to the croquet-lawn.
Hughie sat on, feeling slightly breathless. He had just realised that hepossessed a temper.
Presently Mrs. Leroy completed a sequence of five hoops and retired,followed by the applause of an incompetent partner, to the copper-beech.
She sat down opposite Hughie, and surveyed him expectantly.
"Well, Hughie?" she said.
"Well, Mildred?"
"_Well_, Hughie?"
"I think," said Hughie, answering the unspoken question, "that shewants--_slapping_!"
Mildred Leroy nodded her head sagely.
"Ah!" she remarked. "I thought you would say that. Well, I hope you'lldo it."
* * * * *
Hughie reviewed the events of the day, _more suo_, at three o'clock nextmorning, sitting with his feet on the sill of his open bedroomwindow,--the bedroom of his boyhood, with the old school and 'Varsitygroups upon the walls,--as he smoked a final pipe before retiring torest.
It was almost dawn. The velvety darkness was growing lighter in texture;and occasionally an early-rising and energetic young bird would utter atentative chirrup--only to subside, on meeting with no encouragementfrom the other members of the orchestra (probably trades unionists),until a more seasonable hour.
Hughie had sat on with D'Arcy and Leroy in the billiard-room long afterthe other men--Joey's _clientele_--had emptied their glasses and gone tobed. There had been a "ladies' night," accompanied by fearsome games (ofa character detrimental to the table) between sides captained by Joeyand another damsel; and even after Mildred Leroy had swept her chargesupstairs there had been bear-fighting and much shrieking in the passagesand up the staircase. Then the younger gentlemen had returned, rumpledbut victorious, to quench their thirst and listen with respectfuldeference to any tale that the great Marrable might care to unfold. (Thestory of the Orinoco had gone round, though it had mercifully escapedthe notice of the halfpenny papers.)
But Hughie had not been communicative, though he had proved an eager andappreciative listener to 'Varsity gossip and athletic "shop." So theyoung men, having talked themselves to a standstill, had gradually fadedaway, highly gratified to find the great man not only willing but eagerto listen to their meticulous chronicles; and Hughie and D'Arcy andLeroy, their symposium reduced to companionable limits, had comparednotes and "swapped lies," as the Americans say, far into the night.
Hughie's impressions of the day were slightly blurred and confused--atthe which let no man wonder. He was accustomed to fresh faces and newenvironments, but the plunge from yesterday into to-day had been atrifle sudden. Last night he had driven up to the door of Manors amasterless man, a superior vagabond, an irresponsible free-lance, withhundreds of acquaintances and never a friend. In twenty-four hours thissense of irresponsible detachment had gone for ever, and the spell ofEnglish home-life had sunk deep into his being. He felt for the firsttime that he was more than a mere unit in the Universe. He had turnedfrom something into somebody. He realised that he had a stake in thecountry--the county--the little estate of Manors itself; and a greatdesire was upon him to settle down and surround himself with everythingthat is conveyed to an Englishman here and abroad--especially abroad--bythe word Home.
Then there were the people with whom he had come in contact that day.They were nearly all old friends, but they were old friends with newfaces. There was Mildred Leroy, for instance. He had half expected hisrelations with that young matron, the past considered, to be of aslightly tender and sentimental nature. Far from it. Her attitude to himwas simply maternal--as, indeed, it had been, had he realised the fact,from the very beginning of their friendship. A woman always feelsmotherly towards a man of her own age, and rightly, for she is mucholder than he is. Occasionally she mistakes this motherly feeling forsomething else, and marries him--but not often. Obviously Mildred Leroynow regarded Hughie as nothing more than an eligible young _debutant_,the chaperon's natural prey, to be rounded up and paired off with allpossible despatch.
Then there was Joey. Twenty-four hours ago he had had no particularviews on the subject of his ward, beyond--
(1) The reflection that he would probably find her "rather a bore";
(2) An idle speculation as to whether, if expediency should demand it,he w
ould be able to bring himself to marry her.
Well, twenty-four hours is a long time. He saw now quite clearly thatwhatever Miss Gaymer's shortcomings might be, a tendency to bore hercompanions was not one of them; and that if ever the other questionshould arise, the difficulty would lie, not in bringing himself to marryJoey, but in bringing Joey to marry him.
Like a sensible man, he decided to let things work themselves out intheir own way, and went to bed. There he dreamed that Joey, attired in ablue kimono and red slippers, was teaching him to dance the two-step toa tune played by the engines of the Orinoco.