"The Right Stuff"

Some Episodes in the Career of a North Briton

BY

IAN HAY

DR JOHNSON. Oatmeal, sir? The food of horses in England and of men inScotland!

BOSWELL (_roused at last_). And where, sir, will you find suchhorses--or such men?

_SHILLING EDITION_

William Blackwood & SonsEdinburgh and London1912

_TO_

_AN INDULGENT CRITIC_

CONTENTS. 

BOOK ONE. 

RAW MATERIAL. 

CHAP. 

 I. "OATMEAL AND THE SHORTER CATECHISM" II. INTRODUCES A PILLAR OF STATE AND THE APPURTENANCES THEREOF III. "ANENT" IV. A TRIAL TRIP V. ROBIN ON DUTY VI. ROBIN OFF DUTY VII. A DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP VIII. OF A PIT THAT WAS DIGGED, AND WHO FELL INTO IT IX. THE POLICY OF THE CLOSED DOOR X. ROBIN'S WAY OF DOING IT

BOOK TWO. 

THE FINISHED ARTICLE. 

 XI. A MISFIRE XII. THE COMPLEAT ANGLER XIII. A HOSTAGE TO FORTUNE XIV. "TO DIE--WILL BE AN _AWFULLY_ BIG ADVENTURE" XV. TWO BATTLES XVI. "_QUI PERD, GAGNE_" XVII. IN WHICH ALL'S RIGHT WITH THE WORLD XVIII. A PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY

BOOK ONE. 

RAW MATERIAL. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

OATMEAL AND THE SHORTER CATECHISM. 

The first and most-serious-but-one ordeal in the life of Robert ChalmersFordyce--so Robert Chalmers himself informed me years afterwards--wasthe examination for the Bursary which he gained at Edinburgh University. A bursary is what an English undergraduate would call a "Schol. "(Imagine a Scottish student talking about a "Burse"!)

Robert Chalmers Fordyce arrived in Edinburgh pretty evenly dividedbetween helpless stupefaction at the sight of a great city and sterndetermination not to be imposed upon by the inhabitants thereof. Hisfears were not as deep-seated as those of Tom Pinch on a similaroccasion, --he, it will be remembered, suffered severe qualms from hisfamiliarity with certain rural traditions concerning the composition ofLondon pies, --but he was far from happy. He had never slept away fromhis native hillside before; he had never seen a town possessing morethan three thousand inhabitants; and he had only once travelled in atrain. 

Moreover, he was proceeding to an inquisition which would decide onceand for all whether he was to go forth and conquer the world with auniversity education behind him, or go back to the plough and supporridge for the rest of his life. To-morrow he was to have hisopportunity, and the consideration of how that opportunity could best begripped and brought to the ground blinded Robin even to the wonders ofthe Forth Bridge. 

He sat in the corner of the railway carriage, passing in review themeans of conquest at his disposal. His actual stock of scholarship, heknew, was well up to the required standard: he was as letter perfect inLatin, Greek, Mathematics, and Literature as hard study and remorselesscoaching could make him. Everything needful was in his head--but couldhe get it out again? That was the question. The roaring world in whichhe would find himself, the strange examination-room, the quizzingprofessors--would these combine with his native shyness to seal the lipsand cramp the pen of Robert Chalmers Fordyce? No--a thousand times no!He would win through! Robert set his teeth, braced himself, and kickedthe man opposite. 

He apologised, attributing the discourtesy to the length of his legs--hestood about six feet three--and smiled so largely and benignantly, thatthe Man Opposite, who had intended to be thoroughly disagreeable, meltedat once, and said it was the fault of the Company for providing suchrestricted accommodation, and gave Robert _The Scotsman_ to read. 

Robert thanked him, and, effacing himself behind _The Scotsman_, --though, for all the instruction or edification that his present frame of mindpermitted him to extract from that coping-stone of Scottish journalism, he might as well have been reading the Koran, --returned to his thoughts. He collated in his mind the pieces of advice which had been bestowedupon him by his elders and betters before his departure. In brief, their collective wisdom came to this:--

His father had bidden him--

(a) To address all professors with whom he might come in contact as "Sir";

(b) To arrive at the Examination each morning at least five minutes before the advertised time;

(c) To refrain from lending money to, or otherwise countenancing the advances of, persons of insinuating address who would doubtless accost him in the streets of Edinburgh. 

The Dominie had said--

"When in doubt, mind that practically everything in an examinationgoverns the subjunctive. 

"If there is a _viva voce_, be sure and speak up and give your answersas though you were sure of them. They may be wrong, but on the otherhand they may be right. Anyway, the one thing the examiners will notthole is a body that dithers. 

"Take a last keek at that Proposition--they _may_ call them Theorems, though--about the Square on the Hypotenuse. It hasn't been set for fouryears. 

"If you are given a piece of Greek Testament to translate, for mercy'ssake do not be too glib. Dinna translate a thing until you are sure itis there. They have an unholy habit of leaving out a couple of versessome place in the middle, and you're just the one to tumble head-firstinto the _lacuna_. (I ken ye, Robbie!)

"And whatever ye do, just bear in mind it's your only chance, and _grup_on tae it! _Post est occasio calva_, laddie! And dinna disappoint anauld man that has taught ye all he kens himsel'!"

Much of his mother's advice was of a kind that could not be expressed soconcisely, but two salient items remained fixed in Robert's mind:--

"If ye canna think o' the richt word, pit up a bit prayer. 

"For ony sake see that your collar is speckless a' the time. "

Robert's first impressions of Edinburgh were disappointing. Thoughextensive enough, the city was not so great or so imposing as he hadexpected. It was entirely roofed with glass, --a provision which, thoughdoubtless advantageous in wet weather, militated against an adequatesupply of sunlight and fresh air. The shops, of which Robin had heard somuch, were few in number; and the goods displayed therein (mainly foodand drink, newspapers and tobacco) compared unfavourably in point ofvariety with those in the window of Malcolm M'Whiston, the "merchant" athome. The inhabitants all appeared to be in a desperate hurry, and thenoise of the trains, which blocked every thoroughfare, was deafening. Robert Chalmers was just beginning to feel thoroughly disappointed withthe Scottish capital, when it occurred to him to mount a flight ofstairs which presented itself to his view and gave promise of a secondstorey at least. When he reached the top he found he had judgedEdinburgh too hastily. There was some more of it. 

His horizon thus suddenly enlarged, Robert Chalmers Fordyce began totake in his surroundings. He now found himself in a great street, withimposing buildings on one side and a green valley on the other. On thefar side of the valley the ground ran steeply upward to an eminencecrowded thickly with houses and topped by a mighty castle. 

The street was alive with all sorts of absorbingly interesting traffic;but for the present Robert was chiefly concerned with the Cable Cars. Itwas upon one of these majestic vehicles, which moved down the streetunassisted by any apparent human or equine agency, that he had beenbidden to ride to his destination. He was not to take the first thatcame along, nor yet the second--they went to various places, it seemed;and if you were taken to the wrong one you had to pay just the same--butwas to scan them until he espied one marked "Gorgie. " This would carryhim down the Dalry Road, and would ultimately pass the residence ofElspeth M'Kerrow, a decent widow woman, whose late husband's brother had"married on" a connection of Robert's mother. Here he was to lodge. 

At first sight the cars appeared to be labelled with nothing but Cocoaand Whisky and Empire Palaces of Varieties Open Every Evening; but alittle perseverance discovered a narrow strip of valuable informationpainted along the side of each car. The first that caught our friend'seye was "Pilrig and Braid Hills Road. " That would not do. Then cameanother--"Murrayfield, Haymarket, and Nether Liberton. " Another blank!Then, "Marchmont Road and Churchill. " Foiled again, Robert was beginningto feel a little sceptical as to the actual existence of the Dalry Road, when a car drew up opposite to him labelled "Pilrig and Gorgie. " It wasgoing in the right direction too, for his father had warned him that hisdestination lay to the west of the town; and you can trust a Scotsman toknow the points of the compass with his eyes shut. (They even talk of aman sitting on the north or south side of his own fireplace. )

Robert clambered on to the top of this car, and presently found himselfconfronted by a gentleman--splendid in appearance but of homelyspeech--who waved bundles of tickets in his face, and inquired tersely--

"Penny or tippeny? or transfair?"

"I am seeking the Dalry Road, " said Robert cautiously. 

"Which end o't?"

"I couldna say. "

"Ca' it a penny, " said the conductor. 

Robert, with the air of a man who has beaten down his opponent to thelowest possible figure, produced the coin from his pocket. (It was justas well that the man had not demanded a larger sum, for Robert's moreprecious currency was concealed in a place only accessible to partialdisrobement. ) The gorgeous man carelessly snapped a ticket out of one ofthe bundles, and having first punched a hole in it with an ingeniousinstrument that gave forth sounds of music, handed it to Robert inexchange for the penny. He was a saturnine man, but he smiled a littlelater when Robert, mindful of the fate of his railway-ticket at the laststation but one, airily attempted to give up his car-ticket in similarfashion on alighting at the end of the journey. 

The greater part of the next four days was spent by our friend in anexamination-room, into which we, more fortunate, need not attempt tofollow him. Robert diligently answered every question, writing at thefoot of each sheet of his neat manuscript, "More on the next page, " incase the examiner should be a careless fellow and imagine that Roberthad finished when he had not. Robert was not the man to leave anythingto chance, or to such unsafe abbreviations as P. T. O. 

Outside the examination-room he devoted most of the time that he couldspare from preparation for the next paper to a systematic exploration ofEdinburgh. He did the thing as thoroughly as possible, for he knew wellthat he might never spend four days in a large town again. 

He began by climbing the Calton Hill. He remained at the summit quite along time, constructing a rough bird's-eye plan of the streets andbuildings below him; and having descended to earth, proceeded on aseries of voyages of discovery. 

He regarded the exterior of Parliament House with intense interest, forhe was a debater by instinct and upbringing. St Giles' he passed bywithout enthusiasm--he was a member of the Free Kirk--and St Mary'sCathedral struck him as being unduly magnificent to be the property ofsuch a small and pernicious sect as the Episcopalians. The Post Officeand other great buildings struck him dumb; and he hastened past thetheatres with averted eyes, for he had it upon unimpeachable authoritythat the devil resided there. 

He knew no one in Edinburgh save Elspeth M'Kerrow. However, he madeanother friend--to wit, one Hector MacPherson, a gigantic Highlandpoliceman, who controlled the traffic with incredible skill at a placewhere several ways met. The said Hector stood beneath the shadow of agreat lamp-post, and whenever a vehicle drove past one side of him, Hector relentlessly called it back and made it go on the other. Theiracquaintance began with the entire effacement of Robert's features bythe palm of Hector's hand, which was suddenly extended across thethoroughfare for traffic-regulating purposes, with the result thatRobert, who was plunged in thought at the time, ran his nose right intothe centre of it. The ejaculation to which each gave vent at the momentof impact revealed to both that they were from the same part of thecountry, and thereafter Hector MacPherson became Robert'sadviser-in-chief throughout his stay in Edinburgh. Indeed, Robert usedHector as the starting-point for all his excursions, and whenever hebecame hopelessly lost in the wilds of the Grassmarket or the purlieusof Morningside, he used to ask his way back to his mentor's pitch andmake a fresh start. We shall hear of Hector again. 

The foolhardy feat of entering a shop Robert did not attempt until hisvery last day in Edinburgh, and then only because he was absolutelycompelled to do so by the necessity of executing a commission for hissister Margaret--the purchase of half a yard of ribbon. 

It is true that the same ribbon could have been obtained at home fromMalcolm M'Whiston or a travelling packman, but Margaret was determinedto have it from Edinburgh; and she was particularly emphatic in herinjunctions to Robert to see that the folk in the shop stuck a label onthe parcel, "with their name printed on, and a picture of the shop anda'. "

On Saturday morning, then, Robert approached the establishment which hehad chosen for the purpose. After a careful reconnaissance he discoveredthat it possessed several doors. Here was a poser. Which would be theribbon door? Supposing he entered the wrong one and found himselfcompelled to purchase a roll of muslin or a wash-hand-stand? Withnatural acumen he finally selected a door flanked by windows containinglace and ribbon; and waiting for a moment when the surging crowd wasthickest, attempted to slip in with them. He got safely past a hero in amedal-sown uniform, but immediately after this encountered an imposinggentleman in a frock-coat, who asked his pleasure. Robert inquiredrespectfully if the gentleman kept ribbon. The gentleman said "Surely, surely!" and Robert's modest requirements were thereupon sent ringingfrom a throat of brass into the uttermost recesses of the establishment, and he himself was passed, hot-faced, along the fairway until he reachedthe right department. Here his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and the siren behind the counter, with difficulty stifling heramusement, was reduced to discovering his needs by a process ofelimination. 

"What will I show you?"

No answer. 

"Ladies' gloves?"

A shake of the head. 

"Handkerchiefs?"

Another shake. 

"Stockings?"

Another shake, accompanied by a deepening of complexion. 

"Well--ribbon?"

"Aye, that's it, " replied Robert, suddenly finding his voice (which, bythe way, rather resembled the Last Trump). "Hauf a yaird--one inchwide--satin--cream!" he roared mechanically. 

He received the small parcel, and furtively fingering the money in hispocket, asked the price. 

"Two-three, please, " replied the damsel briskly. 

How Robert thanked his stars that he had some cash in hand! But what aprice! All that for a scrap of ribbon! It seemed sinful; but he laid twoshillings and threepence on the counter. Greatly to his alarm, the youngwoman behind it, who up to this point had kept her feelings undercommendable control, suddenly collapsed like a punctured balloon on tothe shoulder of her nearest neighbour--there being no shop-walkersabout--and expressed a wish that she might be taken home and buried. Finally she recovered sufficiently to push Robert's two shillings backacross the counter and to place his threepence in a mysteriousreceptacle which she thrust into a hole in the wall, from which it wasejected with much clatter a minute later; and on being opened proved tocontain what the dazed Robert at first took for a half-sovereign, butwhich he ultimately discovered, when he had abandoned the still gigglingmaiden and groped his way out into the street, to be a bright newfarthing. 

The same day he returned to his home; but he did not reach it withoutone more adventure, a slight one, it is true, but not without its effectupon his future. 

The train was over-full, and Robert ultimately found himself travellingin company with nine other passengers, seven of whom were suffering fromthat infirmity once poetically described by an expert in such diagnosesas "a wee bit drappie in their een. " The exception was a gentleman inthe far corner, accompanied by a most lovely young lady, upon whomRobert gazed continuously with an admiration so absorbing and profoundthat it took him some little time to realise, shortly after thecommencement of the journey, that the rest of the company were indulgingin a free fight all over the compartment, and that the lady was clingingin terror to her escort. Robert was of considerable service in restoringorder, and found his reward in the eyes of the lady, who thanked himvery prettily. Her husband had the sense not to offer Robert money, butgave him his card, and said in a curious, stiff, English way that hehoped he might be of service to him some day. They got out at Perth, andRobert travelled on alone. 

Hours later he was met by his brother David at a little wayside station, and driven over fifteen miles of hilly road to the farm where he hadbeen born and brought up. 

Next morning he was up at daybreak, and set to work at his usual tasksabout the yard, well knowing that such would be his lot to the end ofhis life if the examination list did not show his name at the top. 

 * * * * *

Some days had to elapse before the result could be known; but RobertChalmers Fordyce--by the way, I think we know him well enough now tocall him Robin, which was the name his mother had given him on his thirdbirthday--and his household, being Scottish and undemonstrative, madelittle or no reference to the subject. 

Robin was the scholar of his family. He was the second son, David beingfour years older. But in accordance with that simple, grand, andpatriarchal law of Scottish peasant life, which decrees that every ladof parts shall be given his chance to bring credit on the family, eventhough his parents have to pinch and save and his brothers bide at theplough-tail all their lives in consequence--a law whose chief merit liesin the splendid sacrifices which its faithful fulfilment involves, andwhose vital principle well-meaning but misguided philanthropy is nowendeavouring to dole out of existence--he had been sent to Edinburgh tomake the most of this, his one chance in life. 

Still, though the credit of the family hung upon the result of theexamination, --if he won the Bursary, the money, together with theprecious hoard which his father and mother had been accumulating for himfor ten years, would just suffice to keep him at the University, --no onediscussed the matter. It was in the hands of God, and prognosticationcould only be vain and unprofitable. His mother and sister, indeed, questioned him covertly when his father and brother were out of hearing;but that was chiefly about Edinburgh, and the shops, and the splendoursof the Dalry Road. The Bursary was never mentioned. 

On the day on which the result was to be announced their father tookRobin and David away to a distant hillside to assist at thesheep-dipping. The news would come by letter, which might or might notget as far as Strathmyrtle Post Office, seven miles away, that veryafternoon. In the morning it would be delivered by the postman. 

But there are limits to human endurance, none the less definite becausethat endurance appears illimitable. When father and sons tramped back tothe farm that evening, just in time for supper, it was discovered thatMargaret was absent. John Fordyce, grim old martinet that he was, lookedround the table inquiringly; but a glance at his wife's face caused himto go on with his meal. 

At nine o'clock precisely the table was cleared. The herdman and twofarm lasses came into the kitchen from their final tasks in the yard, and the great Bible was put down on the table for evening "worship. "

John Fordyce, having looked up the "portion" which he proposed to read, then turned to the Metrical Psalms. These were sung night by night inunswerving rotation throughout the year, a custom which, while itoffered the pleasing prospect of variety, occasionally left something tobe desired on the score of appropriateness. 

All being seated, the old man, after a final fleeting glance at hisdaughter's empty chair, gave out the Psalm. 

"Let us worship God, " he said, "by singing to His praise in the Hundredand Twenty-first Psalm. Psalm a Hundred and Twenty-one--

 'I to the hills will lift mine eyes, From whence doth come----'"

The door opened, and Margaret entered. She was dusty and tired, for shehad walked fourteen miles since milking-time; but in her hand she held aletter. 

She glanced timidly at the clock, and was for slipping quietly into herseat; but her father said--

"You had best give it to him now. A man cannot worship God while hismind is distracted with other things. "

Robin took the letter, and after a glance in the direction of his fatherand the waiting Bible, opened and read it amidst a tense silence. Finally he looked up. 

"Well?" said the old man. 

"They have given me the First Bursary, father, " said Robin. 

No one spoke, but Robin saw tears running down his mother's face. JohnFordyce deliberately turned back several pages of the Bible. 

"We will sing, " he said in a clear voice, "in the Twenty-thirdPsalm--the whole of it!--

 'The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want----'"

 * * * * *

The Psalms of David, as rendered into English verse by Nahum Tate andothers, are not remarkable for poetic merit; neither does the oldScottish fashion of singing the same, seated and without accompaniment, conduce to a concord of sweet sounds. But there are no tunes like oldtunes, and there are no hearts like full hearts. If ever a song wentstraight up to heaven, the Twenty-third Psalm, borne up on the wings of"Martyrdom, " did so that night. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

INTRODUCES A PILLAR OF STATE AND THE APPURTENANCES THEREOF. 

The time had undoubtedly arrived when I must have a Private Secretary. 

Kitty, for one, insisted on it. She said that I was ruining my health inthe service of an ungrateful country, and added that she, personally, declined to be left a widow at twenty-eight-and-a-half to obligeanybody. 

"It is exactly the wrong age, " she said. "If it had happened four orfive years ago, I could have done pretty well for myself. Now, I shouldbe out of the running among the _débutantes_, and a little too young andflighty to suit a middle-aged bachelor. "

I may add that my wife does not often talk in this unfeeling manner. Butshe suffers at times from a desire to live up to a sort of honoraryreputation for sprightly humour, conferred upon her by undiscriminatingadmirers in the days before she became engaged to me. As a matter offact, her solicitude on my behalf was largely due to an ambition to seea little paragraph in the newspapers, announcing that "Mr AdrianInglethwaite, M. P. , Director of the Sub-Tropical and Arctic Departmentat the Foreign Office, has appointed Mr Blankley Dash to be his PrivateSecretary. "

Dolly and Dilly seconded the motion. They had not the effrontery to wrapup their motives in specious expressions of concern for my health, butstated their point of view with brutal frankness, as is their wont. Iwas an old dear, they conceded, and of course Kitty was Kitty; but asister and brother-in-law were, to put it quite plainly, a hopelesslydull couple to live with: and the visits of Mesdames Dolly and Dilly toour roof-tree would, it was hinted, be more frequent and enduring if theestablishment was strengthened by the addition of a presentable youngman. 

I consented. It was three to one. To any one acquainted with the trio ofsisters arrayed against me, it will at once be apparent that "theseodds" (as the halfpenny papers say) "but faintly represent thesuperiority of the winning side. "

Having thus dragged the reader without apology into the most intimateregions of my family circle, I had perhaps better introduce myself andmy _entourage_ a little more formally. 

My name is Samuel Adrian Inglethwaite. Why I was called Samuel I do notknow. Possibly my parents did. Samuel may have been a baptismal spratset to catch a testamentary whale, but if this was so no legacy evercame my way. Personally, I am rather attached to the name, as I wascalled nothing else until I encountered the lady who ultimatelyconsented to become Mrs Inglethwaite. Since that epoch in my career Ihave been S. Adrian Inglethwaite. 

I am thirty-six years of age, and hold an appointment under Government, which, while it does not carry with it Cabinet rank--though Kitty cannotsee why--is sufficiently important to make the daily papers keep myobituary notice handily pigeon-holed, in case I fall over the ThamesEmbankment, get run over by a motor-bus, or otherwise contravene theby-laws of the London County Council. 

As no man can possibly give an unbiassed opinion of his own wife, Ishall not attempt to describe mine at this juncture, except to mentionthat she is a woman with no fault that I can for the moment recall, beyond a predilection for belonging to societies which are better knownfor their aims than for their achievements, are perennially short offunds, and seem to possess no place of meeting except my drawing-room. 

Dolly and Dilly are Kitty's sisters. They are twins, and there presentage is, I think, nineteen. Though I say it who should not, they are bothastonishingly attractive young persons, and the more I see of them themore the fact is borne in upon me. Indeed, a casual remark of mine tothat effect, uttered to my wife, by an unfortunate coincidence, on thevery morning upon which one of the numerous Deceased Wife's Sister'sBills passed its Second Reading in the House, gave rise to a coldness ofdemeanour on her part which was only dispelled by an abject apology anda dinner for two at the Savoy on mine. 

To return to Dolly and Dilly. I never know them apart, and I do notthink Kitty does either. Both are divinely tall and divinely fair; theyare exactly like each other in form, voice, and feature; and theypossess the irritating habit, not uncommon with twins, of endeavouringto exaggerate their natural resemblance by various puzzling and, Iconsider, unsportsmanlike devices. They wear each other's clothesindiscriminately, and are not above taking turn and turn about with theaffections of unsuspecting young men, of whom they possess aconsiderable following. They attract admiration without effort, and, Ihonestly believe, without intention. Of the meaning of love they knownothing, --they are female Peter Pans, and resolutely refuse to grow up, except outwardly, --and the intrusion of that passion into their dealingswith persons of the male gender is regarded by them at present as acontingency to be discouraged at all costs. The conditions under whichthey admit their admirers to their friendship are commendably simple andperfectly definite. If a man is adjudged by them to have attained allthe complicated and inexplicable standards by which women judge theopposite sex, he is admitted into the ranks of the Good Sorts; and assuch, provided that he keeps his head, has an extremely pleasant time ofit. If, however, any obtuse and amorous youth persists in mistaking whatNanki-Poo once described as "customary expressions of affability" for anindication that his infatuation is reciprocated, the Twins act promptly. They have "no use" for such creatures, they once explained to me; andthey proceed to rid themselves of the incubus in a fashion entirelytheir own. 

As soon as the pressure of the _affaire_ rises to danger-point--_i. E. _, when the youth begins to pay markedly more attention to one Twin thanthe other--he is asked, say, to lunch. Here he is made much of by theobject of his affections, who looks radiant in, let us say, white_batiste_; while the unemployed Twin, in (possibly) blue poplin, holdsdiscreetly aloof. After lunch the Twins, leaving their victim to smoke acigar, retire swiftly to their room, where they exchange costumes, anddescend again to the drawing-room. There Dolly, now arrayed in white_batiste_, enters upon the path of dalliance where Dilly left off; andDilly, relieved from duty, crochets in a window-recess, and silentlyenjoys her sister's impersonation. 

One of two things happens. Romeo either does not notice the difference, or else he does. If he does not, he continues to flounder heavily alongin pursuit of the well-beloved, oblivious of the fact that he is wastinghis efforts on an understudy. After an appropriate interval the coldtruth is revealed to him in a hysterical duet, and he goes home, glaringdefiantly, but feeling an entire and unmitigated ass. 

Or he may actually recognise that Dilly has been replaced byDolly, --this is what happens when the case is a really serious one, --andif this occurs he is more sorrowful than angry, poor fellow, for he seesthat he is being trifled with; and your true lover is the mostdesperately earnest person in the world. In either case the _affaire_terminates then and there. And that is how my sisters-in-law, withadroitness and despatch, return immature and undesirable suitors totheir native element. The whole proceeding reminds me irresistibly ofthe Undersized Fish Bill, a measure whose progress I once assisted inits course through a Committee of the House. 

However, having been bidden to procure a Private Secretary, I meekly setabout looking for one. One night at dinner we held a symposium on thesubject, and endeavoured to evolve an outline of the kind of gentlemanwho was likely to suit us. The following is a _précis_ of the result. Ileave the intelligent reader to trace each item to its author; also thevarious parenthetical comments on the same:--

(a) He must be a 'Varsity man. 

(b) He must be able to keep accounts, and transact business generally. 

(c) He must be content with a salary of two hundred a-year, with board and residence in the house. ("He can have that little room off the library for a sitting-room, dear, and sleep in the old night-nursery. ")

(d) He must not wear celluloid collars or made-up ties. ("But he'll _have_ to, poor dear, if the Infant Samuel only gives him two hundred a-year. ")

(e) He must be prepared to run through my speeches before I deliver them. ("I suppose that means _write_ them!"), look up my subject-matter, verify my references, and so on. ("That _will_ be an improvement. But what will the halfpenny papers do then, poor things?")

(f) He must be the sort of man that one can have in to a dinner-party without any fear of accidents. ("Yes. He _must_ be all right about peas, asparagus, and liqueurs. _And_ finger-bowls, dearest. You remember the man who drank out of his at that queer political dinner to the constituents?")

(g) He must be nice to my Philly. 

(h) He must be dark. ("Pshaw!")

(i) He must be fair. ("Ugh!")

(j) He must be able to waltz and play bridge. 

At this point I suggested that a prepaid telegram to the CelestialRegions would alone procure the article we required. However, weultimately descended to an advertisement in the _Morning Post_, and indue course I obtained a secretary. In fact, I obtained several. We hadthem _seriatim_, and none stayed longer than a month. I do not proposeto write a detailed history of the dynasty which I now found it myprivilege to support. A brief _résumé_ of each will suffice. 

_Number One_. --Cambridge Football Blue. Big and breezy. Spellingentirely phonetic. Spent most of his time smoking in the drawing-room, and laboured under the delusion that, as my amanuensis, he was atliberty to forge my signature to all documents, including cheques. Heused my official note-paper to back horses on, and was finally requestedto leave, after an unseemly brawl with a book-maker's tout on mydoorstep. 

_Number Two_. --Oxford: a First in Greats. A heavy manner, usuallybeginning his observations with "Wherewithal" or "Peradventure. " TheTwins suffered severely from suppressed giggles in his presence. Regarded my superficial ideas of statesmanship with profound contempt, but left after a fortnight, having allowed a highly confidential andextremely personal pencil note, written in the margin of a despatch bythe Premier himself, to blossom forth in large type in the text of aBlue Book. 

_Number Three_. --Rather elderly for the post--nearer forty thanthirty--but highly recommended. Reduced my chaotic papers to order intwenty-four hours, charmed my wife and her sisters, drafted a speechwhich won me quite a little ovation in the House, suggested severalnotable improvements in the "Importation of Mad Dogs Bill, " with which Iwas to be entrusted next session--and was found lying dead drunk in hisbedroom, at eleven o'clock in the morning, on the second Sunday afterhis arrival. Half a dozen empty brandy bottles were afterwardsdiscovered on the top of his wardrobe. Poor devil!

_Number Four_. --(Subsequently handed down to posterity as "The Limit"). Small, spectacled, and nervous. Came from a Welsh University, and wasstrong on "the methodical filing of State and other documents. " Hestayed two days. On the first night (after inquiring whether we wereexpecting guests that evening, and receiving an answer in the negative)he came down to dinner in a sort of alpaca smoking-jacket and a tartantie. On the second, having evidently decided to treat us to all theresources of his wardrobe as soon as possible, he appeared in more orless ordinary evening attire. He wore a small white satin bow-tie, attached to his collar-stud by a brass clip. The tie fell off the studinto his soup almost immediately, and its owner, after furtively chasingit round the plate with his forefinger, finally fished it out with theaid of a fork; and, having squeezed as much soup as possible back intothe plate, put the bow into his waistcoat pocket and resumed his mealwith every appearance of enjoyment. 

He left next morning. As the Twins pathetically observed: "It had to behim or us!" I was sorry, for he was a tidy little creature away fromtable. 

After that I did a rash thing. I engaged a Private Secretary on the spurof the moment and without consulting my household. 

One morning I had occasion to visit the British Museum. That mausoleumof learning is not an habitual resort of mine, but on this occasion Ihad found it necessary to refresh my memory on the subject of a smallprincipality situated somewhere in the Pacific, and reported to be in astate of considerable unrest, concerning which the member for UpperGumbtree, an unpleasantly omniscient young man with a truculent manner, had been asking questions in the House. It seemed that British interestsin that quarter were not being adequately protected by our Department, and this extremely pushing gentleman was now gaining much cheap applausein the columns of those low-priced organs which make a living byderiding his Majesty's Ministers, by bombarding us with fatuousinquiries on the subject. My Chief had only the most hazy notion aboutthe place--as a matter of fact I do not believe that either he or any ofthe permanent officials had ever heard of it--and I was in a preciselysimilar condition. I was accordingly bidden to get up the subject, andaccumulate a mass of information thereon which would not only satiatethe appetite of the honourable member, but choke him off for all time. 

Finding myself in want of a particular Gazetteer which was not to befound in the office, and being in no mood to take a clerk, howeveruncritical, into my confidence, I called a hansom and drove straight tothe Museum; where, having ensconced myself in the reading-room with thework in question, I prepared to devote a dusty and laborious morning tothe service of State. 

Immediately opposite me sat a gigantic young man of a slightlythreadbare appearance, who was copying some screed out of a bulky tomebefore him. I regarded him in a reminiscent sort of way for a fewminutes, and presently found that my scrutiny was being returnedfourfold. Next came an enormous hand that was suddenly thrust across thetable towards me, and I remembered him. 

We had met six years ago in a railway train, under circumstances whichmade me extremely glad to make his acquaintance at any price. Kitty andI were on our honeymoon, and happened to be travelling on a Saturdayafternoon from Edinburgh to Perth in a train packed to suffocation withthe supporters of a football team of the baser sort. We were bound forInchellan, the Scottish residence of my Chief, who was sending to meetus at Perth. 

As the first-class carriages were all occupied by gentlemen withthird-class tickets, we travelled third with a company who did not seemto possess any tickets at all. Just before the train started the doorwas thrown open and two inebriated Scots, several degrees further gonethan the rest of the company--which is saying a good deal--were hurledin. If the assemblage had all been of one way of thinking we might havereached Perth with nothing worse than bad headaches, but unfortunatelysome supporters of the other team were present, and in the midst of aheated and alcoholic debate on the rights and wrongs of the last freekick, two rival orators suddenly arose, clinched, and continued theirargument at close grips on the floor. In a moment the party divideditself into two camps, and the conflict became general. As there wereten people in the compartment, of whom seven were engaged in alife-and-death struggle, the movements of the non-combatants--Kitty, myself, and a gigantic youth of gawky appearance--were, to put itmildly, somewhat restricted. Kitty became thoroughly frightened, andhampered my preparations for battle by clinging to my arm. The giganticyouth, seeing this, suddenly took command of the situation. 

"Watch you the young leddy!" he bellowed in my ear, "and I'll sortthem. "

With that he hurled himself into the tumult. The exact details of hisperformance I could not see, the scientific dusting of railway cushionsnot having penetrated any further north of the Forth than it has southof the Thames; but the net result was that each combatant was pulledoff, picked up, shaken until his teeth rattled, and banged down on tohis seat with a brief admonition to mind his manners, until sevenbewildered, partially sobered, and thoroughly demoralised patrons ofsport sat round about in various attitudes of limp dejection, leaningagainst one another like dissipated marionettes; while our rusticHector, bestriding the compartment like a Colossus, dared them to move afinger under penalty of being "skelped. "

He bundled them all out at the next stopping-place, without inquiringwhether they desired to alight there or no, and I am bound to say thatthey all seemed as anxious to leave the carriage as he was to expelthem. He then shut the door, pulled up the window, and turned to my wifewith a reassuring smile. 

"Yon was just a storrm in a teapot, " he remarked affably. 

He accepted my thanks with indifference, but blushed in a gratifiedmanner when Kitty addressed him. He was her bond-slave by the time thatwe bade him farewell at Perth. I presented him with my card, which hecarefully placed inside the lining of his hat; but he forbore, eitherfrom native caution or excessive shyness, to furnish us with anyinformation as to his own identity. 

Well, here he was, sitting opposite to me in the Reading Room of theBritish Museum, and seemingly none too prosperous. Six years ago he hadlooked like a young and healthy farm lad. Now, fourth-rate journalismwas stamped all over him. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

"ANENT. "

We conversed awhile in whispers to avoid disturbing the otherworshippers--I always feel like that in the British Museum--and finallyabandoned our respective tasks and issued forth together. With a littlepersuasion I prevailed upon my companion to come and lunch with me, andwe repaired to a rather old-fashioned and thoroughly Britishestablishment close by, where the fare is solid and the "portions"generous. 

My guest, after a brief effort at self-repression, fell upon the food ina fashion that told me a far more vivid tale of his presentcircumstances than the most lengthy explanation could have done. When hewas full I gave him a cigar, and he leaned back in his padded arm-chairand surveyed me with the nearest approach to emotion that I have everobserved in the countenance of a Scot. 

"I was wanting that, " he remarked frankly, and he smiled largely uponme. He was looking less gaunt now, and the rugged lines of his face weretinged with a more healthy colour. He was a handsome youth, I noticed, with shrewd grey eyes and a chin that stood out like the ram of abattle-ship. 

He told me all about himself, some of which has been set down herealready. He had done well at Edinburgh University, and, having obtainedhis Arts degree, was on the point of settling down to study for theministry--the be-all and end-all of the hope of a humble Scottishhousehold--when disaster came tumbling upon his family. His brotherDavid fell sick in his lungs, and the doctor prescribed a sojourn in adrier climate for at least a year. 

The next part of the narrative was rather elliptical; but from the factthat money was immediately forthcoming to send David abroad, and thatRobin had simultaneously given up his work in Edinburgh and returnedhome to help his father about the farm, I gathered that a life'sambition had been voluntarily sacrificed on the altar of family duty. Anyhow, when David returned, marvellously and mercifully restored tohealth, setting his younger brother free once more, two precious yearshad flown; so that Robin now found himself, at the age of twenty-three, faced with the alternative of making a fresh start in life or remainingon the farm at home, that most pathetic and forlorn of failures, a"stickit minister. " The family exchequer had been depleted by David'sillness, and Robin, rather than draw any further on the vanishing littlestore of pound-notes in the cupboard behind the kitchen chimney, determined to go to London and turn his education to some account. 

He had arrived three years ago, with a barrel of salt herrings and a bagof meal; and from that time he had earned his own living--if it could becalled a living. 

"Once or twice, " he said, "I have had an article taken by one of the bigreviews; sometimes I get some odd reporting to do; and whiles I justhave to write chatty paragraphs about celebrities for the snippetypapers. "

"Uphill work that, I should think. "

"Uphill? Downhill! Man, it's degrading. Do you know what I was doing inthat Museum this morning?"

"What?"

"Have you heard tell of a man they call Dean Ramsay?"

"Let me see--yes. He was a sort of Scottish Sidney Smith, wasn't he?"

"That is the man. Well, he collected most of the good stories inScotland and put them in a book. I was copying a few of them out; and Ishall father them on to folk that the public wants to hear about. I geta guinea a column for that. "

"I know the sort of thing, " I said. "_'A good story is at present goingthe round of the clubs, concerning----'_"

"Not 'concerning'--'anent'!"

"I beg your pardon--'anent a certain well-known but absent-minded Peerof the Realm. '"

"That's the stuff. You have the trick of it. Then sometimes I do bits ofgeneral information--computations as to the height of a column of thepicture postcards sold in London in a year, and all that. Nobody cancheck figures of that kind, so the work is easy--and correspondinglyill-paid!" (I cannot reproduce the number of contemptuous _r_'s thatRobin threw into the adverb. )

"It's a fine useful place the Museum, " he continued reflectively. "Youwere busy there this morning yourself. You would be collecting _data_anent--I mean _about_--the Island of Caerulea. "

I sat up in surprise at this. 

"How on earth----?" I began. 

"Oh, I just jal--guessed it. You being the only member of his Majesty'sGovernment in whom I have any personal interest, I have always followedyour career closely. (You gave me your card, you'll mind. ) Well, I sawyou were having trouble with yon havering body Wuddiford--I oncereported at one of his meetings: he's just a sweetie-wife in_pince-nez_--and when I saw you busy with an atlas and gazetteer I saidto myself:--'He'll be getting up a few salient facts about the place, inorder to appease the honourable member's insatiable thirst forknowledge--Toots, there I go again! Man, the journalese fairly soaksinto the system. I doubt now if I could write out twenty lines of'Paradise Lost' without cross-heading them!"

We finished our cigar over talk like this, and finally rose to go. Robinlingered upon the steps of the restaurant. I realised that he, being aScotsman, was endeavouring to pump up the emotional gratitude which hefelt sure that I, as an Englishman, would expect from a starving pauperwho had lunched at my expense. 

"I must thank you, " he said at last, rather awkwardly, "for a mostpleasant luncheon. And I should like fine, " he added suddenly andimpetuously, "to make out a _précis_ for you on the subject of Caerulea. Never heed it yourself! Away home, and I'll send it to you to-morrow!"

An idea which had been maturing in my slow-moving brain for some timesuddenly took a definite shape. 

"It is extremely kind of you, " I said. "I shall be delighted to leavethe matter in your hands. But when you have made the _précis_, I wonderif you would be so good as to bring it to my house instead of sendingit?"

I gave him my address, and we parted. 

Robert Chalmers Fordyce arrived at my house next morning. He broughtwith him a budget of condensed but exhaustive information on the subjectof Caerulea, the assimilation and ultimate discharge of which enabled meto score a signal victory over Mr Wuddiford of Upper Gumbtree, relegating that champion exploiter of mare's nests to a sphere ofcomparative inoffensiveness for quite a considerable time. 

After reading the _précis_, I offered Robin the position of my PrivateSecretary, which he accepted politely but without servility oreffusiveness. I handed him a quarter's salary in advance, gave him twodays' holiday wherein to "make his arrangements"--_Anglicè_, toreplenish his wardrobe--and we sealed the bargain with a glass of sherryand a biscuit apiece. 

As he rose to go, Robin took from his pocket a folded manuscript. 

"I see you have a good fire there, " he said. 

He stepped across to the hearth-rug and pitched the document into theheart of the flames, which began to lick it caressingly. 

Presently the heat caused the crackling paper to unfold itself, and someof the writing became visible. Robert pointed, and I read--

_"Pars about Personalities. A capital story is at present going theround of the clubs, anent----"_

Here the flimsy manuscript burst into flame, and shot with a roar up thechimney. 

I looked at Robert Chalmers Fordyce, and his face was the face of a manwho has gone through deep waters, but feels the good solid rock beneathhis feet at last. 

He turned dumbly to me, and held out his hand. 

The worst of these inarticulate and undemonstrative people is that theyhurt you so. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

A TRIAL TRIP. 

Three days later I introduced Robert Chalmers Fordyce into the bosom ofmy family. I had declined to give them any previous information abouthim, beyond a brief warning that they would find him "rather Scotch. "

I have always found it utterly impossible to foretell from a man'sbehaviour towards his own sex how he will comport himself in thepresence of females. I have known a raw youth, hitherto regarded as thehobbledehoy of the shooting-party and the pariah of the smoking-room, lord it among the ladies like a very lion; and I have seen the hero of ahundred fights, the master of men, the essence of intrepid resolution, stand quaking outside a drawing-room door. The _début_ of Robin, then, Iawaited with considerable interest. I expected on the whole to see himtongue-tied, especially before Dolly and Dilly. On the other hand hemight be aggressively assertive. 

He was neither. He proved to be that rarest of types--the man who has nofear of his fellow-creatures, male or female, singly or in battalions. Our sex is so accustomed to squaring its shoulders, pulling down itswaistcoat, and assuming an engaging expression as a preliminary to anencounter with the fair, that the spectacle of a man who enters astrange drawing-room and shakes hands quietly and naturally all round, without twisting his features into an agreeable smile and mumblingentirely inarticulate words of rapture, always arouses in me feelings ofenvy and respect. 

We found Kitty and the Twins picturesquely grouped upon the drawing-roomhearth-rug, waiting for the luncheon gong. 

I introduced Robin to my wife, in the indistinct and throaty tones whichalways obtrude themselves into an Englishman's utterance when he iscalled upon to say something formal but graceful. Kitty greeted theguest with a smile with which I am well acquainted (and which I canguarantee from personal experience to be absolutely irresistible onone's first experience of it), and welcomed him to the house veryprettily. 

"You are very kind, Mrs Inglethwaite, " said Robin, shaking hands. "But Iam not quite a stranger to you. Do you mind my face?"

Kitty turned scarlet. 

"Mind your----? Not in the--I mean--I am sure we are de----" Shefloundered hopelessly. 

Robin laughed pleasantly. 

"There is my Scots tongue running away with me already, " he said. "Ishould have asked rather if you _remembered_ my face. "

This time Kitty ceased to look confused, but still retained a puzzledfrown. 

"No, " she said slowly; "I don't _think_----"

"No wonder!" said Robin. "We met once, in a railway carriage, six yearsago. Between Edinburgh and Perth--on a Saturday afternoon, " he addedexpressively. 

Light broke in upon Kitty. "Of course!" she said. "Now I remember. Thatdreadful journey! You were the gentleman who was so kind and helpful. How nice and romantic meeting again! Adrian, you silly old creature, whydidn't you tell me? Now, Mr Fordyce, let me introduce you to mysisters. "

She wheeled him round and presented him to the Twins. 

That pair of beauties, I saw at a glance, were out after scalps. Theystood up side by side on the hearth-rug, absolutely and weirdly alike, and arrayed on this occasion in garments of identical hue and cut. Thiswas a favourite device of theirs when about to meet a new young man; itusually startled him considerably. If he was not a person of sound nerveand abstemious habits, it not infrequently evoked from him someenjoyably regrettable expression of surprise and alarm. I knew all thetricks in their _répertoire_, and waited interestedly to see the effectof this series. 

On being presented, both smiled shyly and modestly, and eachsimultaneously proffered a timid hand. The average young man, already alittle rattled by the duplicate vision of loveliness before him, couldnever make up his mind which hand to shake first; and by the time he hadcollected his faculties sufficiently to make an uncertain grab at one, both would be swiftly and simultaneously withdrawn. 

Robin, however, immediately shook hands with Dilly, who stood nearest toKitty, and then with Dolly. After that he stepped back a pace andsurveyed the pair with unconcealed interest. 

Then he turned to my wife. 

"A truly remarkable resemblance!" he observed benignantly. ("Just as ifwe had been two babies in a bassinette!" as Dolly afterwards remarked. )

Then he resumed his inspection. The Twins, who were entirely unused tothis sort of thing, were too taken aback to proceed to their secondmove--the utterance of some trivial and artless remark, delivered byboth simultaneously, and thereby calculated to throw the victim into astate of uncertainty as to which he should answer first. Instead, theystood wide-eyed and tongue-tied before him. 

"I must certainly discover some point of difference between theseladies, " continued Robin with an air of determination, "or I shallalways be in difficulties. Do not tell me the secret, Mrs Inglethwaite. Perhaps I can find out for myself. "

He concluded a minute inspection of the indignant Dilly, and turned hisunruffled gaze on Dolly. 

"Yes, " he said, "I have it! You" (triumphantly to Dolly) "have a tinybrown spot in the blue of your left eye, while your sister has none. "

It was quite true: she had. But it was a fact which most young men onlydiscovered after many furtive and sidelong glances. This imperturbablecreature had taken it all in in one resolute scrutiny; and Dolly, blushing like Aurora--an infirmity to which I may say neither she norher sister are particularly subject--dropped her long lashes over theorbs in question and looked uncommonly foolish. 

The tension of the situation was relieved by the announcement ofluncheon, and Robin was called upon to accompany Kitty downstairs; whileI, putting a consoling arm round the waist of each of my fermentingsisters-in-law, marched them down to further experiences in thedining-room. 

The Twins rapidly recovered their equanimity at lunch. They sat, as theyalways did, together on one side of the table, opposite to Robin. Thelatter conversed easily and pleasantly, though his discourse was dottedwith homely phrases and curious little biblical turns of speech. 

"Have you been in London long, Mr Fordyce?" inquired Kitty as we settleddown. 

"Three years, " said Robin. 

"I suppose you have lots of friends by this time. "

"I have a good many acquaintances, but my friends in London are justthree, all told, " said Robin, in what Dilly afterwards described as "adisgustingly pawky manner. "

"You must be very exclusive, Mr Fordyce, " chirrupped Dolly. 

"Far from it, " said Robin; "as you will admit when I say that my threefriends are a policeman, a surgeon, and a minister. "

"How quaint of you!" said Dilly. 

But Robin did not seem to think it quaint. He told us about thepoliceman first--a Highlander. Robin had made his acquaintance inEdinburgh, apparently about the same time that he made ours, and hadrenewed it some years later outside the House of Commons, when arapturous mutual recognition had taken place. The policeman's name wasHector MacPherson. 

"And the surgeon?" inquired Kitty, with a certain friendly assumption ofinterest which announces (to me) that she is getting a little bored. 

"He is just my uncle. I go and see him, whi--now and then. He is a busyman. "

"And the--er--minister?"

"He is Dr Strang. He has the Presbyterian Church in Howard Street. Ihave sat under him every Sabbath since I came to London. "

"Wh--what for?" asked Kitty involuntarily, and in a rather awestruckvoice. Her acquaintance with the ritual of the Church of Scotland washazy, and she was evidently determined to-day to be surprised atnothing; but evidently this mysterious reference could not be allowed topass without some explanation. The Twins convulsively gripped eachother's hands under the table. (They are of course perfectly bredgirls--indeed, their self-possession at trying moments has oftensurprised me--but, like all the young of the human species, there aretimes when their feelings become too much for them. Then, if theoccasion is too formal for unrestrained shrieks, they silentlyinterdigitate. )

"That is a Scottish expression, " said Robin, smiling upon us. "You mustpardon me, Mrs Inglethwaite. I should perhaps have said that I was anadherent of Dr Strang's church--or rather, " he added with a curiouslittle touch of pride, "I am a communicant now. I was just an adherentat first. "

We assented to this, politely but dizzily. 

Scratch a Scot and you will find a theologian. Robin was fairly startednow; and he proceeded to enlarge upon various points of interest in theparallel histories (given in full) of some three or four Scottishdenominations, interwoven with extracts from his own family archives. His grand-uncle, it appeared, had been a minister himself, and hadperformed the feat--to which I have occasionally heard other perfervidScots refer, and never without a kindling eye--known as "coming out inthe Forty-three. "

"That, " added Robin in parenthesis, "is why my second name isChalmers--after the great Doctor. You will have heard of him?"

(Polite but insincere chorus of pleased recognition. )

We were then treated to a brief _résumé_ of the events leading up to areligious controversy of colossal dimensions which was at that momentthreatening to engulf Scotland. Robin was deeply interested in thematter, and gave us his reasons for being so. He passed some scathingcomments on the contumacy and narrow-mindedness of the sect who had themisfortune to be his opponents; and after that he proceeded to say a fewwords about Free Will and Predestination. 

By this time lunch was over, but we sat on. I nodded gravely over mycoffee, saying "Quite so" when occasion seemed to demand it. Kitty wascompletely out of her depth, but still maintained a brave appearance ofinterest. It was the Twins who brought the _séance_ to a close. Placingtheir hands before their mouths, they with difficulty stifled a pair ofcavernous yawns. 

Next moment they were sorry. Robin stopped dead, flushed up, and said--

"Mrs Inglethwaite, I am sorry. I have been most inconsiderate and rude. I have wearied you all. The truth is, " he continued quite simply, "it isso long since I sat at meat with friends, that I have lost the art ofconversation. I just run on, like--like a leading article. I have notconversed with a woman, except once or twice across a counter, fornearly three years. "

There was a rather tense pause. Then Dolly said--

"We're awfully sorry, Mr Fordyce. It was very rude of us. We quiteunderstand now, don't we, Dilly?"

"Rather, " said Dilly. "It was horrible of us, Mr Fordyce. But we thoughtyou were just an ordinary bore. "

"Children!" said Kitty. 

"But what you have told us makes things quite different, doesn't it, Dolly?" continued Dilly. 

"Quite--absolutely, " said Dolly. 

And they smiled upon him, quite maternally. And so the incident passed. 

"How queer, not talking to a woman for three years!" continued Dollyreflectively. 

"How _awful_ it would be not to talk to a man for three years!" saidDilly, with obvious sincerity. 

"There is little opportunity for social intercourse, " said Robin, "to aman who comes to London to sink or swim. "

The conversation was again taking a slightly sombre turn, and I struckin--

"Well, I hope, Mr Fordyce, that a few weeks' experience of myestablishment won't have the effect of making you regret your previouscelibate existence. "

Dolly and Dilly looked at each other. 

"Dolly, " said Dilly, "is that an insult?"

"I think so. "

"Insulting enough to be punishable?"

"Rather. "

"All right. Come on!"

They fell upon me, and the next few minutes were devoted to what Ibelieve is known in pantomime circles as a Grand Rally, whichnecessitated my going upstairs afterwards and changing my collar. 

Robin was not present at tea, and my household took advantage of hisabsence to run over his points. 

Considering that a woman--especially a young woman--judges a man almostentirely by his manner and appearance, and dislikes him exceedingly ifhe proceeds to dominate the situation to her exclusion--unless, by theway, he has her permission and authority so to do, in which case hecannot do so too much--the verdict delivered upon my absent secretarywas not by any means unfavourable, though, of course, there was much tocriticise. 

"He'll do, " said Dilly; "but you must get his hair cut, Adrian. "

"And tell him about not wearing that sort of tie, dear, " said Dolly. 

"I suppose he can't help his accent, " sighs Kitty. 

But their criticisms were limited to such trifles as these, and I feltthat Robin had done me credit. 

Dilly summed up the situation. 

"I think on the whole that he is rather a pet, " she said. 

A more thoroughly unsuitable description could not have been imagined, but Dolly agreed. 

"He has nice eyes, too, " she added. 

"He was perfectly sweet with Phillis after lunch, " said Kitty. "Took heron his knee at once, and talked to her just as if we weren't there. That's a good test of a man, if you like!"

"True for you, " I agreed. "I could not do it with other people'schildren to save my life. "

"Oh, you are hopeless, " said Dilly. "_Far_ too self-conscious anddignified to climb down to the level of children, isn't he, Dolly?" Shecrinkled her nose. 

Dolly for once was not listening. 

"What was that weird stuff the Secretary Bird spouted when you showedPhillis to him, Kit? About her being forward, or coy, or something. Itsounded rather cheek, to me. "

"Yes, I remember, " said Dilly. "Can you do the way he said it?'Sometimes forrrwarrrd, sometimes coy, she neverrr fails to pullllease!'Like that! Gracious, how it hurts to talk Scotch!"

"I don't know, dear, " said my wife thoughtfully. "It sounded ratherquaint. But I daresay all Scotch people are like that, " she addedcharitably. 

"Perhaps it was a quotation, " I observed mildly. 

"Of course, that would be it. What is it out of?"

"A song called 'Phillis is my only Joy, ' I think. "

"Ah, then you may depend upon it, " said Kitty, with the air of onesolving a mystery, "that is what the man was doing--_quoting_! Burns, probably, or Scott, perhaps. How clever of him to think of it! And doyou know, " she continued, "he said such a nice thing to me. While youwere bear-fighting with the Twins after lunch, Adrian, I said to him:'Pity me, Mr Fordyce! My husband never ceases to express to me hisregret that he did not marry one of my sisters. ' And he answered atonce, quite seriously, without stopping to think it out or anything:--'Iam sure, Mrs Inglethwaite, that his regret must be shared by countlessold admirers of yours!' Wasn't it rather sweet of him?"

Further conversation was prevented by the opening of the drawing-roomdoor, where the butler appeared and announced "Mr Dubberley. "

Dubberley is a pillar of our party. I can best describe him by sayingthat although I hold office under a Conservative Government, tenminutes' conversation with Dubberley leaves me a confirmed Radical, andanything like a protracted interview with him converts me into aSocialist for the next twenty-four hours. A week-end in his society, andI should probably buy a red shirt and send out for bombs. He is a goodfellow at bottom, and of immense service to the party; but he is themost blatant ass I have ever met. There are Dubberleys on both sides ofthe House, however, which is a comfort. 

Robin joined us almost directly after Dubberley's entrance, just in timeto hear that great man conclude the preamble of his discourse for theafternoon. 

There had been a good deal of talk in the papers of late about improvingthe means of transport throughout the country; and the nationalisationof railways and other semi-socialistic schemes had filled the air. Dubberley, it appeared, had out of his own gigantic intellect evolved apanacea for congestion of traffic, highness of rates, and railwaymortality. 

He was well launched in his subject when Robin entered and wasintroduced. 

"As I was saying, " he continued, waving an emphatic teaspoon in thedirection of the sofa where the ladies sat, smiling but limp, --even theTwins knew it was useless to stem this tide, --"as I was saying, thesolution of the problem lies in the revival of our far-reaching butsadly neglected system of _canals_. Yes! If we go to the very root ofthe matter"--Dubberley is one of those fortunate persons who never hasto dig far in his researches--"we find that our whole hope ofregeneration lies in the single, simple, homely word--Canals! Reviveyour canals, send your goods by canal, travel yourself by----"

"How long, Mr Dubberley, " interpolated Robin, leaning forward--"how longdo you consider one would take to travel, say, a hundred miles bycanal?"

"Under our present antiquated system, sir, "--Dubberley rather prideshimself on preserving the courtly fashions of address of a bygoneage, --"an impossibly long time. The average speed of a canal-boat at thepresent day under the ministrations of that overburdened and inadequatequadruped, the--er--horse, is three miles per hour. Indeed--one moment!"

Dubberley fished a sheaf of documents out of his pocket--he is the sortof man who habitually secrets statistics and blue-books about hisperson--and after stertorously perusing them closed his eyes for amoment, as if to work out a sum upon an internal blackboard, and said--

"I see no reason why swift canal-boats should not be constructed to runfifteen, twenty, or even twenty-five miles per hour. Indeed, in thesedays of turbines----"

Robin put down his cup rather emphatically, and said--

"Mphm. "

(It is quite impossible to reproduce this extraordinary Caledonianexpletive in writing, but that is as near to it as I can get. ) Then hecontinued urbanely--

"Then you would organise a service of fast turbine steamers running allover the canal systems of the country?"

"Exactly. Or let us say--er--launches, " said Dubberley. "I must notoverstate my case. "

"Travelling twenty miles an hour?"

"Say fifteen, sir, " said Dubberley magnanimously. 

"Mr Dubberley, " said Robin, in a voice which made us all jump, "have youa bathroom in your house?"

Even the Twins, who were growing a trifle lethargic under thetechnicalities of the subject, roused themselves at this fresh turn ofthe conversation. 

"Ah--eh--I beg your pardon?" said Dubberley, a trifle disconcerted. 

"A bathroom, " repeated Robin--"with a good long bath in it?"

"Er--yes. "

"Well, Mr Dubberley, when you go home this afternoon, go upstairs andfill the bath with water. Then take a large bath-sponge--somethingnearly as broad as the bath--and sweep it along from end to end, about afoot below the surface, at a speed of fifteen miles per hour--that willbe twenty-two feet per second--and see what happens!"

Robin had unconsciously dropped into what I may call hisdebating-society manner. His chin stuck out, and his large chest heaved, and he scooped the air, as if it had been the water of Dubberley's bath, with one of Kitty's priceless Worcester teacups. 

Dubberley sat completely demoralised, palpitating like a stranded frog. 

"Then, " continued Robin, "you would observe the result of placing apartly submerged and rapidly moving body in a shallow and restrictedwaterway. You would kick half the water right out of the canal to beginwith, and the other half would pile itself up into a wave under your bowbig enough to offer an almost immovable resistance to the progress ofyour vessel. "

He leaned back and surveyed the bemused Dubberley with complete andobvious satisfaction. We all sat round breathless, feeling much asSidney Smith must have felt when some one spoke disrespectfully of theEquator. Great was the fall of Dubberley. He moved, perhapsinstinctively, in a society where he was seldom contradicted and neverargued with. One does not argue with a gramophone. And here this rawScottish youth, with the awful thoroughness and relentless common-senseof his race, had taken the very words out of his mouth, torn them toshreds, and thrust them down his throat. 

I am afraid I chuckled. The Twins sat hand in hand, with dreamy eyesstaring straight before them. They were conjuring up a joyous vision ofDubberley, in his shirt-sleeves, meekly refuting one of his own theoriesby means of a childish and sloppy experiment in practical hydrodynamicsin his own bathroom. 

I give this incident as a fair example of Robin's point of view andmethods of action on questions which I for one would never dream ofdebating. He was entirely lacking in an art which I am told I possess toperfection--that of suffering fools gladly. Its possession has raised meto an Under-Secretaryship. People who should know tell me that it willalso prevent my ever rising to anything higher. 

"We had a taste of our friend's quality this afternoon, " I remarked tomy household when we met for dinner that evening. "He is athorough-going warrior. Fancy any man taking all that trouble to lay outold Dubberley!"

"Poor Mr Dubberley!" said tender-hearted Kitty. 

"Do him good!" said Dilly, in whose recollection Dubberley's pastenormities loomed large. "I shall be nice to the Secretary Bird now. "

Dolly said nothing, which was unusual. Perhaps the brown spot stillrankled. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

ROBIN ON DUTY. 

Beyond the fact that they are all desperately in earnest, all know eachother, and occupy all the most responsible and lucrative posts on theface of the earth, Scotsmen are a class with whose characteristics I amnot well acquainted. But I learned a great deal from my new secretary. 

Robin soon settled down to work. He not only performed his duties withzeal and discretion, but he kept me up to mine. He hounded me throughthe routine work of my Department; he verified my references; he managedmy correspondence; and he frequently drafted my speeches. He evenprepared some of my impromptus. Indeed, my--or rather his--descriptionof a certain member of the other side, a lesser light of the lastGovernment, a worthy man, always put up to explain matters when hisleader had decided that honesty on this occasion was the best policy, as"a political niblick, always employed to get his party out of bad lies, "won me more applause and popularity in a House of enthusiastic golfersthan endless weeks of honest toil behind the scenes had ever done. 

But I learned more from Robin than that. I suppose I am a typicalspecimen of Conservative officialdom. Until Robin came into my house ithad never occurred to me to ask myself why I was a Conservative: I hadbeen born one, and it was difficult for me to understand how any man ofordinary intelligence could be anything else. 

My father and grandfather were Conservative members before me, and Icome of a line which has always feared God, honoured the King, paid itstithes, and tried to do something for the poor; and which regardsRadicals, Socialists, Nonconformists, and criminal lunatics as much thesame class of person. The only difference between myself and myforebears is that I am much too pacific (or lazy) to cherish anyanimosity against people whose views differ from my own. This fact, coupled with certain family traditions, has brought me to my presentposition in life; and, as I have already indicated, it will probablykeep me there. At least, so Kitty says. 

"You must _assert_ yourself, dear, " she declares. "Be _rude_ to people, and go on being rude! Then they will take notice of you and give younice big posts to keep you quiet. Do you know what the Premier saidabout you the other night at dinner, to Lady Bindle? (She told DickyLever, and he told the Twins. ) 'Inglethwaite? A dear fellow, a soundparty man, and runs his Department admirably. But--he strikes only onthe box!' Pig!"

It was about this time that Robin became a member of our establishment. I had no idea what his political views were--it was just like me not tohave asked him, Kitty said--but felt confident that whatever side hesupported he would do so hot and strong. 

But at first he gave no indication of his leanings. It was not until wesat one night over our wine, in company with John Champion (member for abig northern constituency, and regarded by many, notwithstanding variouseccentricities, as the coming man of the party) that he first gavedefinite utterance to his views. 

The cigars had gone round, and we had just performed that mysteriousnational rite which, whether it owes its existence to economy orpoliteness, invariably ends in several people burning their fingers withthe same match. 

"I suppose, Mr Fordyce, " said Champion, who had not met Robin before, but obviously liked him, "that in common with all Scotsmen you are atheart a Radical. "

"Am I?" said Robin, with native caution. 

"Most of your countrymen are, " said Champion, with a sigh. "'They thinktoo much'--you know the rest of the quotation, I expect. "

Robin nodded. 

I was a little scandalised at this flagrant tribute to the enemy, andsaid so. 

Champion laughed. 

"You are a whole-hearted old war-horse, Adrian. I envy you. Sometimes, Iwish that I----"

"For mercy's sake don't go and say that you are a Radical at heart too, "I cried. 

"N-n-o. But isn't it rot, the whole business?"

"What whole business?"

"Ask Mr Fordyce there. He will tell you. I see it in his eye. "

"What is rot, Robin?" I asked. "Party government?"

"Yes, " said Robin, quite explosively for him. "It is such a scandalouswaste of power and material. " He laid down his cigar. "Man, it's justpitiful. Consider! A party is returned to office. With great care anddiscrimination a Cabinet is chosen. It is composed of men who are mainlyhonest and patriotic. They are not necessarily men of genius, but theyare all men of undoubted ability, and they are genuinely anxious to dotheir duty by the country. Now observe. " (As a matter of fact he said"obsairrve. ") "How is this energy and ability expended? About half ofit--fifty per cent--goes in devising means to baffle the assaults of theOpposition and so retain a precarious hold on office. Sir, it's justludicrous! Instead of concentrating their efforts upon--upon--I want ametaphor, Mr Champion. "

"Upon steering the ship of State, " said Champion, with a twinkle in hiseye. 

"That'll do, fine. --Upon steering the ship of State, they have to devotehalf their time and energy to dodging the missiles of their shipmates. That is what I mean when I say the thing is pitiful. What should wethink of the sanity of an ordinary ship's company, if the man at thewheel had to spend half his time up in the rigging because a minority ofhis messmates wanted to throw him overboard?"

"I think you are putting the case too strongly, " I said. "The criticismof a healthy public opinion is no bad thing. Besides, your Cabinet stillhave fifty per cent of their energy left. What do they do with that?"

"Of that, " said Champion, joining in, "about forty per cent is wasted onmere parade--dummy legislation--bills that never will be passed, andwhich no sensible man has any desire should be passed, except in amutilated and useless condition; bills merely brought forward by theGovernment as a sop to the extreme wing of their own party. It doesn'tmatter which side is in power. If they are Liberals, they have topropose a few socialistic and iconoclastic measures, secretly thankingGod for the House of Lords all the while. If they are Conservatives, they propitiate the Landlords and the Church by putting forward someoutrageously retrograde proposal or other, secure in the knowledge thatit will be knocked on the head by the halfpenny papers. Of the remainingten per cent----"

"About nine, " resumed Robin, "is appropriated automatically toabsolutely essential routine business, like the Budget and Supply----"

"And the remaining one per cent, " struck in Champion, "is devoted toreal live Legislation. "

Then they both looked at me, this pair of carping pessimists, ratherfurtively, like two fags who have allowed their tongues to wag overfreely in the presence of a monitor. It was a curious tribute to thepower of officialdom, for they were both far bigger men, in every sense, than I. Finally Champion laughed. 

"Don't look so horrified, Adrian, " he said. "Mr Fordyce and I croak toomuch. Still, you will find a grain or two of sense among the chaff, asJack Point says. "

But I was not to be smoothed down so easily. 

"According to you fellows, " I grumbled, as I passed the port, "there ispractically no difference between one political party and another. "

"None whatever, " said Champion cheerfully--"not between the _backbones_of the parties, that is. Of course excrescences don't count. Tell me, Adrian, what bill, barring one or two contentious semi-religiousmeasures, has ultimately reached the Statute Book during the last twentyyears that might not have been put there by either party without anyviolent departure from its principles? Not one! Foreign policy, again. Does it make any difference to our position in the world which party isin office nowadays? Not a scrap. The difference between the two sides isimmaterial. There is often a far deeper line of cleavage between twosections of the same party than between party and party. We make facesat each other, it is true; and one side plumes itself on the moralsupport of Royalty and the aristocracy, while the other always bawls outthat it has the inviolable will of the people at its back, --I daresayone assertion is about as true as the other--but I don't think there isa pennyworth of difference, really. There used to be a lot, mind you, when the Plebs were really struggling for a footing in the scheme ofthings; but bless you! we are all more or less in the same crowd now. Just a difference of label, that's all. "

"There was a story my dominie used to tell, " said Robin, who had beenlistening to this diatribe with rapt attention, "about a visitor to aseaside hotel, who ordered a bottle of wine. The boy brought up thewrong kind, so the visitor sent for the landlord and pointed out themistake, adducing the label on the bottle as evidence. 'I'm very sorry, sir, I'm sure, ' said the landlord, 'but I'll soon put it right. Boy, bring another label!' An old story, I am afraid, but it seems to me toput Party goverment into a nutshell. "

I rose, and began to replace the stoppers in the decanters. I wasfeeling rather cross. I hate having my settled convictions tamperedwith. They are not elastic, and this makes them brittle, and I alwaysfeel nervous about their stability when the intellectual pressure of anargument grows intense. 

"When you two have abolished the British Constitution, " I remarkedtartly, "what do you propose to substitute for the present _régime_?"

"'There, '" said Champion, "as the charwoman replied when asked for acharacter, 'you _'ave_ me. ' Let us join the ladies. "

But I was still angry. 

"It always seems best to me, " I persisted doggedly, "to take up a goodsound line of action and stick to it, and to choose a good sound partyand stick to that. Half a glass of sherry before we go upstairs?"

"No, thanks. That is why I envy you, Adrian, " said Champion. "It's awearing business for us, being so--so--what shall we call it, MrFordyce?"

"Detached?" suggested Robin. 

"That's it. "

"Two-faced would be a better word, " I growled. 

Champion clapped me on the shoulder. 

"Adrian, " said he, "in time of peace there is always a large, critical, neutral, and infernally irritating party, for ever philandering betwixtand between two extremes of opinion. But when war is declared and itcomes to a fight, the ranks close up. There is no room for detachment, and there are no neutrals. When occasion calls, you'll find all yourfriends--your half-hearted, carping, Erastian friends--ranged up tightbeside you. Shall we be trapesing about in Tom Tiddler's ground when thepinch comes, Mr Fordyce--eh?"

"Never fear!" said Robin. 

And I am bound to say that we all of us lived to see John Champion'sassertion made good. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

ROBIN OFF DUTY. 

I have yet to introduce to the indulgent reader two more members of thefamily into which I have married. 

The first of these is my daughter Phillis, of whom I have already madepassing mention. She is six years old, and appears to be compounded ofabout equal parts of angelic innocence and original sin. In her dealingswith her fellow-creatures she exhibits all the _sangfroid_ andself-possession that mark the modern child. She will be a "handful" someday, the Twins tell me, and they ought to know. However, pending thearrival of the time when she will begin to rend the hearts of young men, she contents herself for the present with practising that accomplishmentwith complete and lamentable success upon her own garments. 

She is the possessor of a vivid imagination, which she certainly doesnot inherit from me, and is fond of impersonating other people, eithercharacters of her own creation or interesting figures from story-books. Consequently it is never safe to address her too suddenly. She may be afairy, or a bear, or a locomotive at the moment, and will resent havingto return to her proper self, even for a brief space, merely to listento some stupid and irrelevant remark--usually something about bed-timeor an open door--from an unintelligent adult. 

Kitty says that I spoil her, but that is only because Kitty is quickerat saying a thing than I am. She is our only child; and I sometimeswonder, at moments of acute mental introspection (say, in the nightwatches after an indigestible supper), what we should do without her. 

The other character waiting for introduction is my brother-in-law, Master Gerald Rubislaw. He is the solitary male member of the family ofwhich my wife and the Twins form the female side. He is, I think, fourteen years of age, and he is at present a member of what heconsiders--very rightly, I think; and I should know, for I was theremyself--the finest public school in the world. Having no parents, heresides at my house during his holidays, and refreshes me exceedingly. 

He is a sturdy but rather diminutive youth, with a loud voice. (Healways addresses me as if I were standing on a distant hill-top. ) Hebears a resemblance to his sisters of which he is heartily and franklyashamed, and which he endeavours at times to nullify as far as possibleby a degree of personal uncleanliness which would be alarming to me, were it not that the traditions of my own extreme youth have not yetbeen entirely obliterated from my memory. 

His health is excellent, and his intellect is in that conditioneuphemistically described in house-master's reports as "unformed. " He isalways noisy, constitutionally lazy, and hopelessly casual. But hepossesses the supreme merit of being absolutely and transparentlyhonest. I have never known him tell a lie or do a mean thing. To suchmuch is forgiven. 

At present he appears to possess only two ambitions in life; one, togain a place in his Junior House Fifteen, and the other, to score somesignal and lasting victory over his form-master, a Mr Sydney Mellar, with whom he appears to wage a sort of perpetual guerilla warfare. Everyvacation brings him home with a fresh tale of base subterfuges, pettytyrannies, and childish exhibitions of spite on the part of the infamousMellar, all duly frustrated, crushed, and made ridiculous by theingenuity, resource, and audacity of the intrepid Rubislaw. I have nevermet Mr Mellar in the flesh, but I am conscious, as time goes on and myyoung relative's reminiscences on the subject accumulate, of anincreasing feeling of admiration and respect for him. 

"He's a rotten brute, " observed Gerald one day. "Do you know what he hadthe cheek to do last term?"

"What?"

"Well, there was a clinking new desk put into our form-room, at theback. I sit there, " he added rather _naïvely_. "As soon as I saw it, ofcourse I got out my knife and started to carve my name. I made good bigletters, as I wanted to do the thing properly on a fine new desk likethat. "

"Was this during school hours?" I ventured to inquire. 

"Of course it was. Do you think a chap would be such a silly ass as towant to come in specially to carve his name during play-hours, when he'sgot the whole of his school-time to do it in?"

"I had not thought of that, " I said apologetically. 

"And don't go putting on side of that sort, Adrian, old man, " roaredGerald, in what a stranger would have regarded as a most threateningvoice, though I knew it was merely the one he keeps for moments ofplayful badinage. "I saw _your_ name carved in letters about four incheshigh in the Fifth Form room only the other day. I don't see how you canjaw a man for doing a thing you used to do yourself thirty or fortyyears ago. "

I allowed this reflection on my appearance to pass without protest, andGerald resumed his story. 

"Well, I did a first-class G to begin with, and was well on with theRubislaw--all in capitals: I thought it would look best that way--whensuddenly a great hand reached over my shoulder and grabbed my knife. Itwas Stinker, of course. "

"St----"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that. We call him 'Stinker' now. You see, hisname is S. Mellar, and if you say it quickly it sounds like 'Smeller. 'So we call him 'Stinker. ' It was a kid called Lane thought of it. Prettysmart--eh? Oh, he's a clever chap, I can tell you, " yelled Gerald, withsincere enthusiasm. 

"He must be a youth of gigantic intellect, " I said. 

"Oh, come off the roof! Well, Stinker grabbed my knife, and said, 'Hallo, young man, what's all this? Handing down your name toposterity--eh?' with a silly grin on his face. 

"I said I was just carving my name. 

"'I see you have just finished it, ' he said. 

"I didn't quite tumble to his meaning at first, because I had only gotas far as G. RUB, --and then I saw that the whole thing as it stoodspelled 'GRUB. ' Lord, how the swine laughed! He told the form all aboutit, and of course they all laughed too, the sniggering, grovellingsweeps!

"Then Stinker said: 'A happy thought has just occurred to me. I shallnot have your name obliterated in the usual manner'--they cut it out andput in a fresh bit of wood, and charge you a bob--' this time. I havethought of a more excellent way. ' (He always talks like that, in a sortof slow drawl. ) 'We will leave your name exactly as you have carved it. But remember, young man, not another letter do you add to that name solong as you are a member of this school. A Grub you are, --a nasty littledestructive Grub, --and a Grub you shall remain, so far as that desk isconcerned, for all time. And if ever in future years you come down hereas a distinguished Old Boy--say a K. C. B. Or an Alderman, --remember tobring your numerous progeny'--oh, he's a sarcastic devil!--'to thisroom, and show them what their papa once was!'

"Of course all the chaps roared again, at the idea of me with a lot ofkids. But that wasn't all. He switched off _that_ tap quite suddenly, and said--

"'Seriously, though, I am not pleased about this. Carving your name on adesk is not one of the seven deadly sins, but doing so when I have toldyou not to _is_. This silly street-boy business has been getting tooprevalent lately: we shall have you chalking things up on the wallsnext. I particularly gave out last week, when this new desk was put in, that no one was to touch it. Come to me at twelve, and I will cane you. 'And he _did_, " concluded Gerald, with feeling. 

"What a shame!" said Dilly, who was sitting by. "All for carving a sillyold desk. "

"He was perfectly right, " said Gerald, his innate sense of justicerising to the surface at once. "I wasn't lammed for cutting the desk atall: it was for doing it after I had been told not to. "

"It's the same thing, " said Dilly, with feminine disregard for legalniceties. 

"Same thing? Rot! Fat lot you know about it, Dilly. It's a rum thing, "he added to me in a reflective bawl, "but women never can understand therules of any game. Stinker is a bargee, but he was quite right to lamme. It was for disobedience; and disobedience is cheek; and no masterworth his salt will stand cheek. So Stinker says, and he is right foronce. "

Gerald is the possessor of a bosom friend, an excessively silent andrather saturnine youth of about his own age. His name is Donkin, and heregards Gerald, so far as I can see, with a grim mixture of amusementand compassion. He pays frequent visits to my house, as his father is asoldier in India; and he is much employed by the Twins for corroboratingor refuting the more improbable of their brother's reminiscences. 

Robin soon made friends with the boys. Like most of their kind, theirtests of human probity were few and simple: and having discovered thatRobin not only played Rugby football, but had on several occasionsrepresented Edinburgh University thereat, they straightway wrote himdown a "decent chap" and took the rest of his virtues for granted. 

It came upon them--and me too, as a matter of fact--as rather a shockone evening, when Robin, during the course of a desultory conversationon education in general, suddenly launched forth _more suo_ into adiatribe against the English Public School system. 

English boys, he pointed out, were passed through a great machine, whichground up the individual at one end and disgorged a mere type at theother--("Pretty good type too, Robin, " from me), --they were taught toworship bodily strength--("Quite right too!" said my herculeanbrother-in-law), --they were herded together under a monastic system;they were removed from the refining influence of female society--(eventhe imperturable Donkin snorted at this), --and worst of all, little ornothing was done to eradicate from their minds the youthful idea that itis unmanly to read seriously or think deeply. 

I might have said a good deal in reply. I might have dwelt upon the factthat the English Public School system is not so hard upon the stupidboy--which means the average boy--as that of more strenuousforcing-houses of intellect abroad. I might have spoken of one or twomoral agents which prevent our schools from being altogether despicable:unquestioning obedience to authority, for instance, or loyalty totradition. I might have told of characters moulded and fibres stiffenedby responsibility--our race bears more responsibility on its shouldersthan all the rest of the world put together--or of minds trained tointerpret laws and balance justice in the small but exacting world ofthe prefects' meeting and the games' committee. But it was Gerald, whois no moralist, but a youth of sound common-sense, who closed theargument. 

"Mr Fordyce, " he said, "it's no use _my_ jawing to you, because you canknock me flat at that game; and of course old Moke there"--this wasMaster Donkin's unhappy but inevitable designation among hisfriends--"is too thick to argue with a stuffed rabbit; but you hadbetter come down some time and see the place--that's all. "

Robin promised to suspend judgment pending a personal investigation, andthe incident closed. 

Gerald's verdict on Robin's views, communicated to me privatelyafterwards, was characteristic but not unfavourable. 

"He seems to have perfectly putrid notions about some things, but he's apretty sound chap on the whole--the best secretary you have had, anyhow, old man. Have you seen him do a straight-arm balance on thebilliard-table?"

But I did not fully realise how completely Robin had settled down as anaccepted member of my household until one afternoon towards the end ofthe Christmas holidays. 

There is a small but snug apartment opening out of my library, throughan arched and curtained doorway. The library is regarded as myworkroom--impregnable, inviolable; not to be rudely attempted bydevastating housemaids. There is a sort of tacit agreement between Kittyand myself as regards this apartment. Fatima-like, she may do what shepleases with the rest of the house. She may indulge her passion fordrawing-room meetings to its fullest extent. She may intertainmissionaries in the attics and hold meetings of the Dorcas Society inthe basement. She may give reformed burglars the run of thesilver-closet, and allow curates and chorus-girls to mingle in sweetcompanionship on the staircase. But she must leave the library alone, and neither she nor her following must overflow through its double doorsduring what I call business hours. 

On this particular afternoon I had been engaged upon the draft of asmall bill with which I had been entrusted--we will call it the"Importation of Mad Dogs Bill, "--and about four o'clock I handed it toRobin with instructions to write out a fair copy. Robin retired into hisinner chamber, and I sat down in an arm-chair with _Punch_. (It was aWednesday, the Parliamentary half-holiday of those days, and still, happily, the _Punch_-day of these. )

Kitty was holding a Drawing-room Meeting upstairs. I forget whatdescription of body she was entertaining: it was either a Society forthe Propagation of something which could never, in the nature of things, come to birth; or else an Association for the Prevention of somethingthat was bound to go on so long as the world endured. I had beenmercifully absolved from attending, and my tea had been sent in to me. Iwas enjoying an excellent caricature of my Chief in the minor cartoon of_Punch_, when I heard the door of the inner room open and the voice ofmy daughter inquire--

"Are you _drefful_ busy, Uncle Robin?" (My secretary had been elevatedto avuncular rank after a probation of just three hours. )

There was a sound as of a chair being pushed back, and a rustle whichsuggested the hasty laying aside of a manuscript, and Robin's voicesaid--

"Come away, Philly!" (This is a favourite Scoticism of Robin's, andappears to be a term denoting hearty welcome. )

There was a delighted squeal and the sound of pattering feet. Nextensued a period of rather audible osculation, and then there wassilence. Presently Phillis said--

"What shall we do? Shall I sing you a hymn?"

Evidently the revels were about to commence. 

"I have just learned a new one, " she continued. "I heared it in Churchyesterday afternoon, so I brought it home and changed it a bit. It'scalled 'Onward, Chwistian Sailors!'"

"'_Soldiers_, ' isn't it?"

"No--'_Sailors_. ' It _was_ 'Soldiers, ' but I like sailors much betterthan soldiers, so I changed it. I'll sing it now. "

"Wait till Sunday, " said Robin, with much presence of mind. "Will younot tell me a story?"

This idea appeared so good that Phillis began forthwith. 

"Once there were three horses what lived in a stable. Two was wise andone was just a foolish young horse. There was some wolves what livedquite near the stable----"

"Wolves?" said my secretary, in tones of mild surprise. 

"The stable, " explained Phillis, "stood in the midst of the snowy plainsof Muscovy. I should have telled you that before. "

"Just so, " said Robin gravely. "Go on. "

"Well, one day, " continued the narratress's voice through thecurtains--I knew the story by heart, so I was able to fill up the gapsfor myself when she dropped to a confidential whisper--"one cold, windy, berleak day, the old wolves said to the young ones, 'How about a meal ofmeat?' and all the young one's said, 'Oh, _let's_!'

"That very morning, " continued Phillis in the impressive bass which shereserves for the most exciting parts of her narrative, "that _very_morning the foolish young horse said to the old horses, 'Who is for ascamper to-day?' Then he began to wiggle and wiggle at his halter. Theold horses said, 'There is wolves outside, and our master says that theyeat all sheep an' cattle an' horses, ' But the young horse just wiggledand wiggled, "--I could hear my daughter suiting the action to the wordupon her audience's knee, --"and pwesently his halter was off! Then outhe rushed, kicking up the nimble snow with his feathery heels, and--what?"

Robin, who was automatically murmuring something about transferredepithets, apologised for this pedantic lapse, and the tale proceeded. 

"Well, just as he was goin' to have one more scamper, he felt a growl--aawful, fearful, deep _growl_, "--Phillis's voice sank to a bloodcurdlingand continuous gurgle--"and he terrembled, like this! I'll show you----"

She slipped off Robin's knee, and I knew that she was now on thehearth-rug, simulating acute palsy for his benefit. 

"Then he felt somefing on his back, then somefing further up his back, then a bite at his neck; and then he felt his head bitten off, and hedied. Now you tell me one. "

"Which?"

Phillis considered. 

"The one about the Kelpie and the Wee Bit Lassie. "

Robin obliged. At first he stumbled a little, and had to be prompted inhoarse whispers by Phillis (who apparently had heard the story severaltimes before); but as the narrative progressed and the adventures of thewee bit lassie grew more enthralling and the Kelpie more terrifying, hebecame almost as immersed as his audience. When I peeped through thecurtain they were both sitting on the hearth-rug pressed close together, Phillis gripping one of Robin's enormous hands in a pleasurablecondition of terrified interest. The fair copy of the "Importation ofMad Dogs Bill, " I regret to say, lay on the floor under the table. Iretired to my arm-chair. 

"The Kelpie, " Robin continued, "came closer and closer behind her. Already she could feel a hot breath on her neck. " (So could Robin onhis, for that matter. ) "But she did not give in. She ran faster andfaster until----"

"You've forgotten to say she could hear its webbed feet going _pad pad_over the slippery stanes, " interpolated Phillis anxiously. 

"So I did. I'm sorry. She could hear its webbed feet going _pad pad_over the slippery stanes. Presently though, she came to a wee bit housieon the moor. It was empty, but she slippit through the yard-gate andflew along the path and in at the door. The Kelpie came flying throughthe gate----"

"No, no--it loupit ower the dyke!" screamed Phillis, who wouldcountenance no tamperings with the original text. 

"Oh, yes. It loupit ower the dyke, but the wee lassie just slammed thedoor in its face, and turned the key. Then she felt round in the darkand keeked about, wondering what kind of place she was in. And at thatvery moment, through a bit window in the wall----"

"She went ben first. "

"Oh, yes. She went ben; and at that very moment, through the bit windowin the back-end of the house, there came a ray of light. The sun----"

"The sun had risen, " declaimed Phillis, triumphantly taking up the tale;"and with one wild sheriek of disappointed rage the Kelpie vanishedaway, and the wee lassie was _saved_!"

There was a rapt pause after this exciting anecdote. Then Phillisremarked--

"Uncle Robin, let's write that story down, and then I can get people toread it to me. "

"Why not write it down for yourself?"

"I can't write--much; and it ought to be writed in ink, and I--I am onlyallowed to use pencil, " explained my daughter, not without a certainbitterness. "But I put the lead in my mouf, " she added defiantly. 

At this moment the door of my apartment was hurled open, and Geraldprojected himself into the room. It was the evening before his return toschool, and there was a predatory look in his eye. He was accompanied byhis speechless friend. 

"Adrian, old son, " he began, in such tones as an orator might address toa refractory mob, "Moke and I are going to have a study next term, andwe want some furniture. "

I mildly remarked that in my day furniture was supplied by the schoolauthorities. 

"Yes, but I mean pictures and things. Can you give us one? We shall wantsomething to go on that wall opposite the window, shan't we, Moke? Theplace where young Lee missed your head with the red-ink bottle. _Have_you got a picture handy, Adrian?"

I replied in the negative. 

Gerald took not the slightest notice. 

"It will have to be a pretty big one, " he continued. "There is a goodlot of red ink to cover. I have been taking a look round the house, andI must say the pictures you've got are a fairly mangy lot--aren't they, Moke?"

The gentleman addressed coughed deprecatingly, and looked at me as muchas to say that, whatever he thought of my taste in art, he had eaten mysalt and would refrain from criticism. 

"There's one that might do, though, " continued Gerald. "It's hanging inthe billiard-room--a big steamer in a storm. "

By this time Phillis and Robin had joined the conclave. 

"I know, " said Phillis, nodding her head; "a great beautiful boat insome waves. I should fink it was a friend of the _Great Eastern's_, " sheadded, referring to an antiquated print of the early Victorian leviathanwhich hung in the nursery. 

"We could take it for a term or two, anyhow, " continued Gerald, "untilwe get something better. I'm expecting some really decent ones aftersummer. Ainslie _major_ is leaving then, and he has promised to let mehave some of his cheap. Then you can have yours back, Adrian. That's thescheme! Come on, Moke, we'll go and take it down now. Thanks very much, old chap" (to me). "I'll tell Kitty that you've let us. We can jab itoff its hook with a billiard-cue, I should think, Moke. Come too, willyou, Mr Fordyce? You can stand underneath and catch it, in case it comesdown with a run. So long, Adrian!"

The whole pack of them swept from the room, leaving the door open. 

When I looked in at the billiard-room on my way up to dress for dinneran hour later, nothing remained to mark the spot hitherto occupied by asigned and numbered proof of _An Ocean Greyhound_, by Michael AngeloMahlstaff, A. R. A. (a wedding gift to my wife and myself from theartist), but the imprints of several hot hands on the wall, togetherwith a series of parallel perpendicular scars, apparently inflicted by afull-sized harrow. 

From which two chapters it will be gathered that Robert Chalmers Fordycewas a man capable, in his ordinary working-day, of playing many parts. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

A DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP. 

I. 

My wife and I would have been more than human if we had not occasionallycast a curious eye upon the relations of Robin and the Twins. 

Of Robin's attitude towards that pair of charmers Kitty could makelittle and I nothing. He kept his place and went his own way--ratherostentatiously, I thought--and appeared if anything to avoid them. If hefound himself in their company he treated them with a certain gravereticence--he soon grew out of his fondness for addressing us like apublic meeting--and made little attempt to bestow upon them theattentions which young maidens are accustomed to receive from young men. 

There was no mystery about the Twins' attitude towards Robin. "Here, "said they in effect, "is a fine upstanding young man, full of promise, but hampered in every direction by abysmal ignorance on matters of vitalimportance. His instincts are sound, but at present he is quiteimpossible. What he wants is mothering. "

And so they mothered him, most maternally. They exerted themselves quitestrenuously to instil into him the fundamental principles of life--thecorrect method of tying a dress tie; the intricate ritual which governssuch things as visiting-cards and asparagus; the exact limit of thedomains of brown boots and dinner-jackets; the utter criminality ofdickeys, turn-down collars, and side-whiskers; and the superiority ofdialogue to monologue as a concomitant to afternoon tea. 

In many respects, they discovered with pleased surprise, their pupilrequired no instruction or surveillance. For instance, he could alwaysbe trusted to enter or leave a room without awkwardness, and his mannerof address was perfect. He was neither servile nor familiar, and theonly people to whom I ever saw him pay marked deference were the membersof what is after all the only real and natural aristocracy in theworld--that of old age. 

All their ministrations Robin received with grave wonder--he was not ofthe sort that can easily magnify a fetish into a deity--but, evidentlystruck by the intense importance attached by the Twins to their owndoctrines, he showed himself a most amenable pupil. Probably herealised, in spite of hereditary preference for inward worth as opposedto outward show, that though a coat cannot make a man, a good man in agood coat often has the advantage of a good man in a bad coat. So heallowed the Twins to round off his corners; and, without losing any ofhis original ruggedness of character or toughness of fibre, he soondeveloped into a well-groomed and sufficiently presentableadjunct--quite distinguished-looking, Dilly said, when she met us oneday on our way down to the House--to a lady's morning walk. 

What he really thought of it all I do not know. I have a kind ofsuspicion that deep down in his heart every Scot entertains a contemptfor the volatile and frivolous English which is only equalled by that ofthe English for the nation to whom I once heard a Highland ministerrefer as "the giddy and godless French"; but Robin was not given to therevelation of his private thoughts. He seldom spoke of the Twins tome--he was a discusser of manners rather than men--but he once remarkedthat they were girls of widely different character. He entered into nofurther details, but I remember being struck by the observation at thetime; for I had always regarded my sisters-in-law as being as identicalin disposition as they were in appearance. 

Still it was pretty to see Robin unbending to please the two girls, andto hear him say "No, really?" or "My word, what rot!" when you knew thathis tongue was itching to cry, "Is that a fact?" or "Hoots!" or"Havers!" as the occasion demanded. 

He also possessed the great and unique merit of not being ashamed to askfor guidance in a difficulty. I have known him pause before anunfamiliar dish at table and ask one of his preceptresses, in thefrankest manner possible, whether the exigencies of the situation calledfor a spoon or a fork: and out of doors it was a perpetual joy to hearhim whisper, on the approach of some one whom he thought might be afriend of ours, "Will I lift my hat?"

All that year Robin was my right hand. It was a long session; and asmy Chief sat in the Upper House, much work in the way of answeringquestions and making statements fell upon me. We had a good workingmajority, but the Opposition were a united and well-organised bodythat year, and we had to rise early and go to bed late to keep theirassaults at bay while proceeding with the programme of the session. Every afternoon, before I entered the House to take my place atquestion-time, my secretary insisted on taking me through the answerswhich he had prepared for my recitation; and we also discussed theline of action to be pursued if I were cornered by questions of the"arising-out-of-that-answer" order. 

Personally, I loathed this part of the work--I am a departmentalist pureand simple--but Robin's eye used to glow with the light of battle as herehearsed me in the undoubtedly telling counters with which I was topulverise the foe. 

"I would like fine, " he once said to me, "to stand up in your place andanswer these questions for you. "

"I wish you could, Robin, " I sighed. "And, " I added, "I believe you willsome day. "

Robin turned pink, for the first time in our acquaintance, and I heardhis teeth click suddenly together. 

So the wind lay that way!

II. 

During the next year my household was furnished with three surprises, Dilly contributing one and Robin two. 

Robin's came first. One was his uncle, the other his book. 

One night it fell to my lot to dine in the City, as the guest of theHonourable Company of Tile-Glazers and Mortar-Mixers. As I swamforlornly through a turgid ocean of turtle-soup and clarified punchtowards an unyielding continent of fish, irrigated by brown sherry, mechanically rehearsing to myself the series of sparkling yetstatesmanlike epigrams with which I proposed to reply to the toast ofhis Majesty's Ministers I became aware that the gentleman on my left wasaddressing me in a voice that seemed vaguely familiar. 

"And how is my brother's second boy doing with you, Mr Inglethwaite?"

I must have looked a trifle blank, for he added--

"My nephew, Robin. "

I glanced obliquely at the card which marked his place at table, andread--

 _Sir James Fordyce. _

Then I began to grasp the situation, and I realised that this great man, whose name was honourably known wherever the ills of childhood arecombated, was Robin's uncle, the "doctor" to whom my secretary hadcasually referred, and whom he occasionally went to visit on Sundayafternoons. I had pictured an overdriven G. P. , living in Bloomsbury orBalham, with a black bag, and a bulge in his hat where he kept hisstethoscope. A man sufficiently distinguished to represent hisprofession at a public banquet was more than I had bargained for. 

We became friends at once, and supported each other, so to speak, amidthe multitude of dinners and dishes, our respective neighbours provingbut broken reeds so far as social intercourse was concerned. On SirJames's left, I remember, sat a plethoric gentleman whose burnishedcountenance gave him the appearance of a sort of incarnate Glazed Tile;while my right-hand neighbour, from the manner in which he manipulatedthe food upon his plate, I put down without hesitation as a Mortar Mixerof high standing. 

The old gentleman gave me a good deal of information about Robin. 

"He had a hard fight his first year or two in London, " he said. "I couldsee by the way he fell upon his dinner when he came to my house that hismeat and drink were not easily come by. Still, now that he has wonthrough, he will not regret the experience. I had it myself. It is thefinest training that a young man can receive. Hard, terribly hard, butinvaluable! You will not have seen his father yet--my brother John?"

I told him no. 

"Well, try and meet him. You, as an Englishman, would perhaps call himhard and narrow, --after forty years of London I sometimes find him somyself, --but he is a fine man, and he has a good wife. So have you, " headded unexpectedly--"Robin has told me that. "

I laughed, in what the Twins call the "silly little gratified way" whichobtrudes itself into my demeanour when any one praises Kitty. 

"I hope you are in the same happy situation, " I said. 

"No, I am a bachelor. My brother John has not achieved a K. C. B. , but heis a more fortunate man than I. "

The conversation dropped here, but I repeated it to my wife afterwards. 

"Of course, the whole thing is as clear as daylight, " she said. "Thesetwo brothers both wanted to marry the same girl. She took the farmerone, so the other, poor thing, went off to London and became a famousdoctor instead. That's all. He might have been Robin's father, but he'sonly his uncle. "

Happy the mind which can reconstruct a romance out of such scantymaterial. 

Sir James ultimately dined at my house, and became a firm friend of allthat dwelt therein, especially Phillis. 

Then came Robin's second surprise--his book. It was a novel, and a verygood novel too. He had been at it for some time, he told me, but it wasonly recently that he had contrived to finish it off. Being distrustfulof its merits, he had decided to offer it to just one good publisher, who could take it or leave it. If he took it, well and good. But if thepublisher (and possibly just one other) exhibited an attitude ofaloofness, Robin had fully decided not to hawk his bantling about amongother less reputable and more amenable firms, but to consign it to hisbedroom fire. 

However, this inhuman but only-too-unusual sacrifice of the parentalinstinct was averted by the one good publisher, who accepted the book, and introduced Robin to the public. 

Either through shyness or indifference Robin had told us nothing of theapproaching interesting event, and it was not until one morning inOctober, when a parcel of complimentary copies arrived from thepublisher's, that we were apprised of the fact that we had beencherishing an author in our midst. Robin solemnly presented us with acopy apiece (which I thought handsome but extravagant), and also sentone to his parents, who, though I think they rather doubted thepropriety of possessing a son who wrote novels at all, wrote backcomparing it very favourably with _The Pilgrim's Progress_, the onlyother work of fiction with which they were acquainted. 

The book itself dealt with matters rather than men, and with men ratherthan women; which was characteristic of its author, but ratherirritating for the Twins. It had a good deal to say about the under-sideof journalism, --graphic and convincing, all this, --and contained arather technical but absorbingly interesting account of some mostexciting financial operations, winding up with a great description of apanic on the Stock Exchange. But there were few light and no tenderpassages, from which it will be seen that Robin as an author appealed tothe male rather than the female intellect. 

The Twins, I think, were secretly rather disappointed with the book, less from any particular fondness for the perusal of love-passages thanfrom a truly human desire to note how Robin would have handled them; forit is always interesting to see to what extent our friends will givethemselves away when they commit the indiscretion of a book. On thisoccasion Robin had been exasperatingly self-contained. 

But life is full of compensations. There was a dedication. It read:--

 THIS BOOK

 OWES ITS INCEPTION, AND IS THEREFORE

 DEDICATED, TO

 A CIRCUMSTANCE

 OVER

 WHOM

 I HAVE NO CONTROL. 

 R. C. F. 

Now it is obvious that in nine cases out of ten there is only onecircumstance over whom a vigorous young man has no control, and thiscircumstance wears petticoats. Hitherto I had not seriously connectedRobin with the tender passion, and this sudden intimation that the mostserious-minded and ambitious of young men is not immune from the samerather startled me. 

The female members of my establishment were pleasantly fluttered, thoughthey were concerned less with the lady's existence than with heridentity. 

"Who do you think she is?" inquired Kitty of me, the first time thesubject cropped up between us. 

"Don't know, I'm sure, " I murmured. I was smoking my post-prandial cigarat the time, at peace with all the world. "Never had the privilege ofseeing his visiting-list. "

"I wonder who she can be, " continued my wife. "He--he hasn't saidanything to you, has he, dear?" she inquired, in a tentative voice. 

I slowly opened one of my hitherto closed eyes, and cocked itsuspiciously at the diplomatist sitting opposite to me. (The Twins andRobin were out at the theatre. ) Then, observing that she was stealthilyregarding me through her eyelashes--a detestable trick which some womenhave--I solemnly agitated my eyelid some three or four times and gentlyclosed it again. 

"Has he confided any of his love affairs to you, I mean?" continuedKitty, quite unabashed. 

"If you eat any more chocolates you will make yourself sick, " Iobserved. 

"Yes, dear, " said my wife submissively, pushing away the bon-bon dish. "But has he?"

"Are you trying to pump me?"

"Oh, gracious, no! What would be the good? I only asked a plainquestion. You men are such creatures for screening each other, though, that it's never any use asking a man anything about another man. "

"True for you. As a matter of fact, Robin has hardly said a word to meon the subject of women since first I met him. "

Kitty thoughtfully cracked a filbert with her teeth--an unladylike habitabout which I have often spoken to her--and said--

"What exciting chats you must have!" Then she added reflectively--

"I expect it's a girl in Scotland. A sort of Highland lassie, in a kilt, or whatever female Highlanders wear. "

"Why should a novel about the Stock Exchange 'owe its inception' to aHighland lassie?"

Kitty took another filbert. 

"That's 'vurry bright' of you, Adrian, as that American girl used tosay. There's something in that. (Yes, I know you don't like it, dear, but I love doing it. I'll pour you out another glass of port. There!)But any idiotic excuse is good enough for a man in love. Has he everbeen sentimental with you--quoted poetry, or anything?"

"N-no. Stop, though! He did once quote Burns to me, but that was _àpropos_ of poetry in general, not of love-making. "

I remembered the incident well. Robin had picked up at a bookstall acopy of an early and quite valuable edition of Burns' poems. He had satsmoking with me in the library late the same night, turning over thepages of the tattered volume, and quoting bits, in broad vernacular, from "Tam o' Shanter" and "The Cottar's Saturday Night. " Suddenly hebegan, almost to himself--

 "O, my love is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; My love is like a melody That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I----"

He broke off for a moment, and I remembered how he glowered ecstaticallyinto the fire. Then he concluded--

 "And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. "

"Man, " he said, "that's fine! That's poetry. That's the real thing!"

I had agreed. It is no use arguing with a Scot about Burns. (I rememberonce being nearly dirked at a Caledonian Dinner because I ventured toremark that "before ye" was not in my opinion a good rhyme to "LochLomond. ")

However, Kitty and I were unable to decide whether Robin's "bonnie lass"on that occasion had been a personality or an abstraction. 

"Mightn't it be one of the Twins?" I remarked. 

"Well, it _might_ be, " admitted Kitty judicially, "but he has kept itvery close if it is. No, " she continued more decidedly, "I don't thinkit can be. They are quite out of his line. Besides--it would be tooabsurd!"

It was not one Twin at any rate, for a fortnight later Dilly sprung uponus the third surprise of the series I have mentioned. She announced thatshe had decided to marry Dicky Lever. 

There was, I suppose, nothing very surprising in that. Dicky had been inconstant attendance upon the Twins for nearly two years, and had longsince graduated into the ranks of the Good Sorts. The surprise tous--rather unreasonably, perhaps--lay in the fact of--

1. Dicky having definitely fixed upon a particular Twin to propose to;

2. That Twin having definitely selected Dicky out of the assortment at her command. 

I was so accustomed to seeing my sisters-in-law compassed about by acloud of young men who appeared to admire them both equally, and to whomthey appeared to apportion their favours with indiscriminate_camaraderie_, that the idea of one admirer stealing a march on all theothers seemed a little unfair, somehow. 

As Dolly remarked, it would break up the firm horribly. 

"You see, " she confided to me rather plaintively, "Dilly will have nouse for them now, and they'll have still less use for her--an engagedgirl beside other girls is about as exciting as a tapioca-pudding at aLord Mayor's Banquet--and they will only have me. That won't be half thefun. "

"I should have thought that your fun would have been exactly doubled, " Isaid. 

"Not a bit. How like a man! Don't you see, the fun used to be in playingthem backwards and forwards between our two selves--like ping-pong, youknow! It was clinking!"

She sighed regretfully. 

"Now I shall either have to avoid men or marry them, " she concluded, vaguely but regretfully. "Before, if they got in the way, I could alwaysvolley them back to Dilly. Now--one _can't_ play ping-pong all byoneself!"

III. 

Dilly's engagement, as is usual under such circumstances, afforded myhousehold many opportunities for airy badinage and innocent merriment. 

Dolly always heralded her coming into the billiard-room, where theaffianced pair had staked out a claim, by a cough of penetratingseverity, and usually entered the room with her features obscured by anopen umbrella. On several occasions, too, she impersonated her sister;and once, when Dicky was spending a week-end in the house, was onlyprevented by the fraction of a second from robbing that incensed damoselof her morning salute. 

My share in the proceedings was limited to a single constrainedinterview with Dicky, at which, feeling extremely rude and inquisitive, I asked him the usual stereotyped questions about his income, prospects, and habits (most of which I knew only too well already), which, beingsatisfactorily answered, I rang the bell for the Tantalus, and thankedheaven that the Twins were not Triplets. I had indeed suggested thatDilly's nearest and most natural protector was her brother, MasterGerald, and that Dicky should apply not for my consent but his. Thismotion, however, was negatived without a division. I was sorry, for Ithink my brother-in-law would have shown himself worthy of the occasion. 

My wife received the news of the engagement with all the enthusiasmusually exhibited by a Salvation lassie when a fresh convert is hustledforward to the "saved" bench, and henceforth divided her time betweenordering Dilly's trousseau and giving tea-parties, at which theprospective bridegroom was produced and passed round, "as if, " to usehis own expression, "he were the newest thing in accordion-pleating. "

As regards Robin's share in the event, I can only recall one incident. He had been away at Stoneleigh, the largest town in my constituency, onsome party business, and when he returned home the engagement had beenannounced for nearly a week. 

"I must go and offer my good wishes to Miss Dilly, " he said, afterhearing the news. "Do you know where she is, Mrs Inglethwaite?"

"I saw her upstairs a few minutes ago, " said Kitty. "Come up, and we'llfind her. "

We were in the library at the time, and Kitty and Robin left the roomtogether. The rest of the story my wife told me later. 

"We went up, " she said, "and looked into the drawing-room, where I hadlast seen Dilly. The room was nearly dark, but she was there, sittingcurled up in front of the fire. 

"'There she is, ' I said. 'Go and say something nice. '

"Well, dear, "--Kitty's face assumed an air of impressive solemnity whichmakes her absurdly like her daughter--"he stood hesitating a moment, andthen walked straight up to her and said--

"'Good afternoon! Can you tell me where your sister is? I want to offerher my good wishes on the great event. '

"It wasn't Dilly at all. It was Dolly! And he was able to distinguishbetween the two in that dim room. And _I_ couldn't!"

"Oh, " said I carelessly, "I expect he noticed she wasn't wearing anengagement-ring. "

My wife looked at me and sighed, as over one who would spoil a romancefor want of a ha'porth of sentiment. And yet I know she would have beenquite scandalised if any one had hinted at tender passages between hersister and my secretary. Women are curious creatures. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

OF A PIT THAT WAS DIGGED, AND WHO FELL INTO IT. 

Dicky Lever was a hearty and not particularly intellectual youth of theWhat ho! type (if you know what I mean). He was employed in somecapacity in a Government office, but his livelihood was not entirelydependent on his exertions therein--which was, perhaps, fortunate, ashis sole claim to distinction in his Department lay in the fact of hisholding the record for the highest score at small cricket in the JuniorSecretaries' room. He was a member of the Leander Club, a more thanusually capable amateur actor, and a very good fellow all round. 

The engagement was announced at the end of July, which is a busy timefor this country's legislators. The session was drawing to a close, andwe were passing Bills with a prodigality and despatch which provokedmany not altogether undeserved gibes from a reptile Opposition Pressconcerning the devotion of his Majesty's Government to the worship ofSaint Grouse. 

One night I brought Champion home to dinner between the afternoon andevening sittings. At the latter he was to move the second reading of his"Municipal Co-ordination Bill, " a measure which was intended to grapplewith the chaos arising from the multitude of opposing or overlappinginterests that controlled the domestic arrangements of the Londoner. Aneffort was to be made to bring all the Gas, Electricity, Water, Paving, and other corporations into some sort of line, and prevent them fromgetting into each other's way and adding to the expenses andinconvenience of the much-enduring ratepayer. It was a useful littleBill; but though everybody approved of it on principle, various powerfulinterests were at work against it, and its prospects of getting throughCommittee hung in the balance. 

"Now, Mr Champion, " said Dilly, who knew that a man always likes to bequestioned about his work, especially by a pretty girl, "what will yourBill do for _us_? I have asked this person here, "--indicating her_fiancé_, --"but he says parish-pump politics aren't in his department. He licks stamps at the Foreign Office, " she added in explanation. 

"Tell her, Champion, " said Dicky. "Out of my line altogether. Takes meall my time to keep an eye on those Johnnies in the Concert of Europe. "

"I will tell you one thing the Bill will do, Miss Dilly, " said Champion, a little heavily. (Dolly once said of him, "He's awfully clever and ableand all that, but he hasn't got a light hand for conversationalpastry. ") "How many times have you noticed the streets up about herethis year?"

"Heaps, " said Dilly. 

"They have hardly ever been down, " corroborated Dolly. 

"Let me see, " continued Dilly. "Our side of the Square was repaved inJanuary. Directly after that they took it up again and did something tothe drains. "

"In March they opened it again to lay down an electric light main, " saidI. 

"In April something burst, " said Dolly, "and that meant more men withwigwams and braziers. "

"And last month, " concluded Dilly, "they took away the wood pavement andrelaid the whole Square with some new patent asphalte, which smeltsimply, oh----"

"Rotten!" supplied Gerald. (Have I mentioned that he had just arrivedhome for his summer holiday?)

"Well, " said Champion, "the Bill would regulate that sort of thing. Itwould protect the streets from being torn up at will by any Company whohappened to have business underneath them. As things are, practicallyany one may come along and hew holes anywhere he pleases. "

"The police ought to stop it, " said Kitty, who has a profound belief inthe Force. (I am convinced that if Beelzebub himself were to enter thehouse at any time during my absence, Kitty would lure him into thedining-room with the sherry, and then telephone for a constable. )

"The police have no right, " said Champion. "If a gas company choose togive notice that they intend on a certain day to come and burrow in aroad, all the police can do is to divert the traffic, and make the gascompany as comfortable as possible. "

I was not following this conversation with any particular interest. Being expected to speak in favour of the Bill that night, I wasundergoing the preliminary anguish which invariably attends my higheroratorical efforts. But I remember now that about this time Dillysuddenly turned to Dicky and whispered something in his ear. Then theyboth looked across the dinner-table at Robin, who nodded, as who shouldsay, "I know fine what you whispered then. " After that they all threelaughed and looked down the table at Champion, who was still expatiatingon the merits of his Bill. 

I suppose anybody else would have divined what was in the wind, but Idid not. 

 * * * * *

A week later we were treated to an all-night sitting. The Irishmen hadbeen quiescent of late, but on this occasion they made amends for theirtemporary relaxation of patriotism by resolutely obstructing anAppropriation Bill, which had to pass through Committee that night (ifJohn Bull was to have any ready cash at all during the next few months), and kept us replying to amendments and trotting through division-lobbiesuntil six o'clock next morning. 

Robin stayed on in attendance at the House most of the night, but aboutthree o'clock I sent him home, with instructions to stay in bed tilltea-time if he pleased. He had had a hard time lately. 

I was walking homeward in the early sunshine, marvelling, as people whoaccidentally find themselves up early pharisaically do, at the fatuityof those who waste the best hours of the whole day in bed, and revellingin the near prospect of a bath and my breakfast, when on turning acorner I walked into a hand-cart which was standing across the pavement. It contained workmen's tools--picks, shovels, and the like. On the nearside of the roadway a man was erecting one of those curious wigwamarrangements which screen the operations of electricians and othersubterranean burrowers from the public gaze. A dirty-faced small boy incorduroys was tending a brazier of live coals, upon which some breakfastcans were steaming. Between the wigwam and the pavement a gigantic navvywas hewing wooden paving-blocks out of the roadway. 

The spectacle did not attract my interest specially, as this particularpiece of street had been eviscerated so often that I had grown callousto its sufferings. But I paused for a moment to survey the big navvy'smuscles, and to wonder how early in the morning it would be necessary torise in order to catch a small boy with a clean face. The navvy was afine specimen of humanity, with a complexion tanned a dusky coffeecolour. 

I was reflecting on the joys of the simple life and the futility ofpolitics and other indoor pastimes in general, when the big man rosefrom his stooping posture and caught my eye. He appeared a littledisconcerted by my scrutiny, and turned his back and renewed hisexertions with increased vigour, favouring me hereafter with whatarchitects call a "south elevation" of himself. 

I went home to breakfast, wondering where I had seen the big navvy'sback before. I mentioned casually to Kitty and the Twins that GoringStreet was up again. They wondered how the management of the GoringHotel liked it, with that mess under their very windows, and agreed withme that it was high time Champion's Bill, due for its Third Readingto-morrow, became law. 

I stayed in bed till lunch-time, and then, rather late in the afternoon, set out for the House, which I knew I should find in an extremely limpcondition after its previous night's dissipation. On the way I called inat the Goring Hotel in Goring Street, where Champion lived when in town. I found him in his room on the first floor, gazing out of the windowinto the street. 

I looked out too, to see what was interesting him. Directly below us laythe encampment of the workmen whom I had seen in the morning. They hadhewed up a few yards of the wood pavement, and the smaller of the twomen was now immersed up to his waist in a hole, working ratherlaboriously in the restricted space at his command with a pick-axe. Theboy was piling wooden blocks into a neat heap, and the big man, whoseform was only partially visible, was doing something inside the wigwam. 

The roadway was more than half blocked, and cabs and omnibuses, incharge of overheated and eloquent drivers, were being filtered throughthe narrow space left at their disposal by a phlegmatic policeman. 

"Look here, " said Champion. 

I looked. 

"What on _earth_ are those fellows doing?" he continued. 

"Re-laying the road, perhaps. "

"One doesn't re-lay a road by making a deep hole in it. "

"Well--gas!"

"Gas and electric light mains in this street are all led along a specialconduit reached by manholes every eighty yards, " said Champion. "There'sno need to dig. "

"Well--drains!" said I vaguely. But I was a mere child in the hands ofthis expert. 

"The drains, as you call them, " he said testily, "consist of a greatsewer away in the depths, accessible from various appointed places. Besides, nobody in his senses tries to lift earth out of a hole with apick-axe. "

"Perhaps the solution of the mystery lies inside the wigwam, " I said. 

"No. That is just what complicates matters. When a shaft leading down tothe electric light mains is opened, one of those canvas shelters is putover the top. Now there is nothing under that shelter--nothing but thebit of road it covers. The thing seems to be simply a stage accessory, planted there to give the encampment an aspect of reality. Ah, look atthat!"

"That" was a small piece of paving-wood, dexterously hurled by thedirty-faced boy, who seemed to be finding time hang rather heavily onhis hands. It took a passing citizen in the small of the back, but whenhe swung round to detect the source of the missile the boy was on hisknees again industriously blowing up the brazier. 

With an indignant snort the citizen passed on his way, doubtless addingthe outrage, in his mind, to the long list of unsolved London crimes. But retribution awaited the youthful miscreant. The phlegmatic policemanwho was regulating the traffic on the single-line system happened tonotice the deed. He walked majestically across from the far side of thestreet towards our excavating friends. 

"Come on!" said Champion to me. "There's going to be some fun. "

We stepped out through one of the windows, which possessed a broadbalcony, and took our stand behind some laurels in tubs which lined thebalustrade. The street was comparatively quiet at the time, and we wereable to hear most of the dialogue that ensued. 

"'Ere, mate, " began the traffic-expert to the smaller of the twonavvies, "just ketch that boy of yours a clip on the side of the 'ead, will you?"

The smaller man desisted from his labours in the hole. 

"Wotsye, ole sport?" he inquired cheerily. 

The policeman was a little ruffled by this familiarity. 

"I'll trouble _you_, " he repeated with some hauteur, "to ketch that boyof yours a clip on the side of the 'ead. If not, I shall 'ave to do myduty, according----"

Here the roar of a passing dray drowned his utterance. 

The smaller man clambered nimbly out of the hole and proceeded to grabhis young friend by the scruff of the neck. 

"Billy, " he remarked dispassionately, "this gentleman says as 'ow I'm togive you a clip on the side of the 'ead. "

"Woffor, " inquired Billy, simulating extreme terror. 

The man passed the question on to the policeman, who explained thenature of the offence. His statement was voluntarily corroborated byseveral members of an audience which seemed to have materialised fromnowhere, and now formed a ring round the encampment. 

"Righto!" said the man with cheery acquiescence. "Billy, my lad, you'vegot to 'ave it. "

"Tha's right, ole son! You give 'im socks, " remarked a hoarse and ratherindistinct voice of the gin-and-fog variety, from among the spectators. 

Simultaneously its owner lurched his way to the front rank, the othersmaking room for him with that respectful sympathy, not unmixed withenvy, which is always accorded to a true-born Briton in his condition. He was obviously a member of some profession connected with coal-dust, and it was plain that he had been celebrating the conclusion of hisday's labours. 

The smaller navvy, thus exhorted, administered the desired clip. It wasnot a particularly severe one, but it drew from its recipient thesomewhat unexpected expostulation--

"You silly ass! Not so hard!"

Where had I heard that stentorian but childish voice before? Who wasthis road-breaker's acolyte, with his brazier, his dirty face, and--apublic-school accent?

I leaned over the balustrade and surveyed him and his two companions. Then I drew my breath sharply. 

Merciful heavens!

The dirty-faced boy was my brother-in-law, Master Gerald Rubislaw, theclip-administerer was Dicky Lever, and the gigantic and taciturn navvywas--my Secretary!

Having witnessed the carrying-out of the sentence, the policemanreturned to his duties; none too soon; for a furniture van and abutcher's cart, locked in an inextricable embrace, the subject of asulphurous duet between their respective proprietors, called loudly forhis attention. 

Meanwhile Coaldust, who had been inspecting the result of our friends'united labours with some interest, suddenly echoed the question whichhad first exercised Champion's logical mind by inquiring what the blankdash the two adjectival criminals and the qualified nipper thought theywere doing to the asterisked road. 

He received no encouragement. Robin was now engaged with a hammer andchisel in cutting a sort of touch-line all round the encampment, whileDicky did not cease manfully to delve with the pick-axe in the pit whichhe had digged for himself. For a long time they turned a deaf ear to theanxious inquiries of their interlocutor. 

But there are limits to long-suffering. Coaldust's witticisms increasedwith his audience, and at last Dicky turned to Robin and cried, with areally admirable maintenance of character and accent--

"'Ere, Scotty, come and give this bloke one in the neck. 'E's askin' forit!"

Robin deliberately suspended operations, rose heavily to his feet, andcleared his throat. Then he turned upon the alcoholic Coaldust. Istrained my ears. Surely _he_ was not going to talk Cockney!

Far from it. He stuck to his last. 

"See here, ma man, " he roared, in a voice that made the crowd jump, "areye for a ding on the side o' the heid?"

Coaldust capitulated with alacrity. 

"No offence, 'Orace!" he remarked genially. "You an' me was always pals. Put it there!" He extended an ebony hand, which Robin solemnly shook andreturned to his work. 

Whatever my three friends were up to, it is possible that they might nowhave been left in peace for some time; for the crowd, seeing no chanceof further sport from Coaldust, began to melt away. But a freshcharacter entered the scene to keep alive the nagging interest of thedrama. 

My first intimation that something new was afoot came from an errand-boyon the edge of the crowd, who, addressing a lady or ladies unseen, suddenly expressed a desire to be chased. 

All heads were now turned down the street, and there, approaching withrather faltering steps, carrying a red cotton bundle and a tea-can, Ibeheld--one of my sisters-in-law!

Postulating Dicky, I presumed it was Dilly, and I began to piecetogether in my mind the plot of this elaborate comedy. Evidently Dicky, Robin, and Gerald had decided--for a bet, or because they were dared, orpossibly with a view to giving Champion's Bill a leg-up by a practicaldemonstration of the crying need for it--to dress themselves up asworkmen and come and "do a turn, " as they say in the music halls, to thediscomfort of his Majesty's lieges and the congestion of traffic, uponsome sufficiently busy thoroughfare for a stated period of time. 

Certainly they were doing it rather well. They were admirably madeup, --Dicky was a past-master at that sort of thing, --and theiroperations so far had been sufficiently like the genuine article toimpose upon the public in general, --if we except Champion andCoaldust, --even to the point of securing the assistance of thetraffic-directing policeman. 

But alas! with that one step further, which is so often fatal to greatenterprises, they had sought to add a finishing touch of realism totheir impersonation by the inclusion of a little feminine interest; andto that end Dilly had been added to the cast--or more likely had addedherself--in the _rôle_ of a young person of humble station bringing heraffianced his tea. 

And, not for the first time in the history of man, it was the woman whoopened the door to disaster. 

Dilly wore a natty print dress--probably my housemaid's--with a tartanshawl over her head. She had on her thickest shoes, but they werewoefully smart and thin for a girl of her class. Moreover, her hair wasbeautifully arranged under the shawl, and her hands--though she had hadthe sense to discard her ruby and sapphire engagement-ring--were toowhite and her face was too clean to lend conviction to herimpersonation. In short, in her desire to present a pleasing _toutensemble_--an object in which I must say she had succeeded toperfection--Dilly had utterly neglected detail and histrionic accuracy. 

Evidently she was not expecting a gallery. Two highly-interestedconcentric circles--one of people and one of dogs--round her _fiancé's_encampment was rather more than she had bargained for. She had emergedquite suddenly from a side street (which I knew led to a shortcut fromhome) and now paused irresolutely a few yards away, crimson to the rootsof her hair, what time the errand-boy, with looks of undisguisedadmiration, continued to reiterate his desire to be pursued. 

The crowd all turned and stared at poor Dilly. Obviously they did notknow what to make of her. Possibly she was some one from the chorus of amusical comedy going to be photographed, possibly she was merely "a bitbalmy, " or possibly she was an advertisement for something, and wouldbegin to distribute hand-bills presently. So far, she merely looked asif she wanted to cry. 

It was Robin who saw her first. He immediately stepped over hisnewly-completed touch-line, and taking the spotted bundle and thetea-can from her hands, conducted her ceremoniously within the magiccircle, saying, in a voice much more like his own than before--

"Come away, lassie!"

Dicky looked up from his labours at this, and beheld his _fiancée_ forthe first time. All he said was--

"By gad, you've done it after all! Bravo!"

But Dilly did not appear to be at all gratified She merely sat onGerald's little mountain of paving-blocks, looking as if she could notdecide whether to throw her apron over her face and scream, or take aheader into the wigwam. My heart bled for her in spite of her folly. Thecrowd, deeply interested and breathing hard, stood round waiting for theperformance to begin. 

It was Coaldust who took the lead. 

"Tip us a song and dance, Clara, " he said encouragingly. 

Robin, who had been making a show of unfastening the bundle, suddenlyrose to his feet. Coaldust saw him. 

"All right, Carnegie, " he remarked hurriedly. "No offence, ole pal!"

But Robin turned to Dicky, and the two held a hasty conversation, whosenature I could guess. Dilly could not be exposed to this sort of thingany longer. They began to put on their coats. 

"They are going to give it up, " I said, not without relief. "About time, isn't it? Do you recognise them, Champion?"

But Champion, I found, was gone--probably to establish an _alibi_. Perhaps he was right. Questions might be asked in the House about this. 

When I turned again to the scene below I found that the crowd hadthickened considerably, and that the policeman had once more left thetraffic to congest itself, and joined in the game. 

"You must tell that young woman to move on, " he said to Dicky, notunkindly. "She's causin' a crowd to collect, and that's a thing she canbe give in charge for. "

"All right, " said Dicky hurriedly, "we're all going. "

The policeman, struck by this sudden anxiety to oblige, becamesuspicious. 

"All of you?" he said. "'Ow about this mess in the road?"

Robin came to the rescue. 

"We'll be back presently and sort it, " he said reassuringly. 

"Of course, " said Dicky, pulling himself together. "Back in 'arf a tick, governor!"

"Don't you go callin' me names, " said the policeman, as the spectatorsindulged in happy laughter. 

"Sorry!--I mean, certainly!" said Dicky, getting flustered. (I could seeRobin glowering at him. ) "We are just going down the street a minute. This--er--girl has brought us a bit of bad news. There's been anaccident happened--er----"

"To her puir old mither, " put in Robin, whom I began to suspect ofrather enjoying this entertainment for its own sake. 

This heartrending piece of intelligence touched the crowd, and Coaldustwas instantly forward in proposing an informal vote of condolence, whichwas seconded by a bare-armed lady in a deerstalker cap. But thepoliceman, evidently roused by our friends' ill-judged and precipitateattempt to strike camp, suddenly produced a pocket-book from his tunic, and said--

"It is my duty to take your names and addresses, together with the nameof the firm employing you. "

This announcement obviously disconcerted Dicky and Robin; for it is onething to take part in a masquerade, and another to get out of theconsequences thereof by cold-drawn lying. 

However, the policeman was sucking his pencil and waiting, so Dickysaid--

"You can get all the information you want from the Borough Surveyor. "

It was a bold effort, but the policeman merely said--

"Your name, please!"

Dicky, fairly cornered, replied--

"Er--Samuel"--I thought at first he was going to say "Inglethwaite, " andwas prepared to drop a flower-pot on his head if he did; but hecontinued, with the air of one offering a real bargain at theprice--"Phillipps. "

"Two P's?" inquired the constable. 

"Three, " said Dicky. 

The policeman rolled a threatening eye upon him. 

"Be careful!" he said in an awful voice. 

"One of them comes at the beginning, " said Dicky meekly. 

"Haw, haw!" roared several people in the crowd, which was unfortunatefor Dicky. He was one of those people who would risk a kingdom to raisea laugh. 

"Address?" continued the policeman. 

"Buck'nam Pallis!" shouted Coaldust, before any one else in the crowdcould say it. 

The policeman turned and directed upon him a look that would haveentirely obfuscated a soberer man. 

"I'll attend to you presently, " he said in the exact tones which mydentist employs when he shuts me into the waiting-room. "Now then, youraddress? Come along!"

Dicky gave some address which I did not catch, and the representative ofthe law turned to Robin. The latter evidently saw rocks ahead if theinquisition was to be extended to the whole party. He said--

"Surely there is no need to take any more names. "

"I'll be responsible for the lot, " added Dicky eagerly--too eagerly. "Now let's be off! Come along Di--Liza!"

He took Dilly by the arm, and, preceded by Gerald, began to pressthrough the crowd, which by this time extended almost right across thestreet. 

But the now thoroughly aroused guardian of the peace, determined not tobe rushed like this, broke away from Robin, who was engaging him inpleasant conversation, and, hastening after the retreating group, laid adetaining and imperious hand on Dilly's arm. 

What happened next I was not quick enough to see. But there was a swirland a heave in the crowd, and presently Dicky became visible, standingin a very heroic attitude with his arm round Dilly; while the policeman, with an awe-inspiring deliberateness which implied "Now you _have_ goneand done it!" extricated himself majestically but painfully from thechasm in the road which had recently been occupying Dicky's attention, and into which Dicky in defence of his beloved had apparently pushedhim. 

Picking up his pocket-book and putting it back into his chest, anduttering the single and awful word "_Assault!_" the policeman produced awhistle and blew it. 

Things were certainly getting serious, and I had just decided to sendout the hotel porter to the policeman to tell him to bring his captivesinside out of the way of the crowd, when I noticed that Robin wasploughing his way towards the outskirts of the throng, waving his arm ashe went. Then I saw that his objective was another policeman--anInspector this time. He was a gigantic creature, and Robin and he, slowly forging towards each other through the surrounding sea of faces, looked like two liners in a tideway. 

Robin's conduct in deliberately attracting the notice of yet anotherrepresentative of law and order appeared eccentric on the face of it, but his subsequent behaviour was more peculiar still. 

He seized the newly-arrived giant by the arm, and drew him apart fromthe crowd, where he told him something which appeared to amuse them bothconsiderably. 

"Yewmorous dialogue, " announced Coaldust to his neighbours, "betweenCleopartrer's Needle and the Moniment!"

But it was more than that, --it was deep calling to deep. Presently theexplanation, or the joke, or whatever it was, came to an end, and theInspector advanced threateningly upon the crowd. 

"Pass along, there, pass along!" he cried with a devastating sweep ofhis arm. He spoke with a Highland accent, and I realised yet once morethe ubiquity of that great Mutual Benefit Society which has itsheadquarters north of the Tweed. 

The crowd politely receded about six inches, and through them, accompanied by Robin, the Inspector clove his way to the encampment, where Dicky, who seemed to be rapidly losing his head, was delivering asort of recitative to every one in general, accompanied by the policemanon the whistle. 

What the Inspector said to his subordinate I do not know, but the netresult was that in a very short time the former was escorting the entireparty of excavators down the street, attended by a retinue of small boys(who were evidently determined to see if it was going to turn out ahanging matter); while the latter, to whom the clearing of the "house"had evidently been deputed, set about that task with a vigour andferocity which plainly indicated a well-meaning and zealous mindtingling under an entirely undeserved official snub. 

 * * * * *

They told me all about it in the smoking-room that night. 

"The idea, " began Dicky, "was----"

"Whose idea was it?" I inquired sternly "It was all of our idea, "replied my future relative by marriage lucidly. 

"But who worked it out?" I asked, --"the plot, the business, the 'props'?It was a most elaborate production. "

"Never you mind that, old man, " said Dicky lightly. (But I saw thatRobin was laboriously relighting his pipe and surrounding himself withan impenetrable cloud of smoke. ) "Listen to the yarn. The idea was tostake out a claim in some fairly busy road and stay there for a giventime--say, six o'clock till tea-time--and kid the passing citizens thatwe were duly authorised to get in the way and mess up the trafficgenerally. If we succeeded we were going to write to _The Times_ or somesuch paper and tell what we had done--anonymously, of course--just toshow how necessary Champion's Bill is. "

"Have you written the letter?"

"Yes. "

"I wouldn't send it if I were you. "

"Well, that's what Robin here has been saying. "

"Putrid rot if we don't!" remarked Gerald, who had by this time washedhis face, but ought to have been in bed for all that. 

"We can't do it, " said Robin. "For one thing, we have attracted quiteenough public attention already, --it's bound to be in the papers anyhow, now, and that will probably give the Bill all the advertisement itneeds, --and if we give the authorities any more clues our names may comeout. For another thing, it wouldn't be fair to Hector MacPherson. "

"Who is he?"

"That Inspector who came up at the critical moment. He was one of myfirst friends in London. "

"I remember. Go on. "

"I was thankful to see him, I can tell you. Well, he undertook to squarethat poor bewildered bobby, and to take steps to get the road clearedand the hole filled up. "

"How?"

"There is a street being mended just round the corner, and he said hewould get the foreman of the gang, who is a relation of his wife's, tosend a couple of men to put things right immediately. It's probably doneby now. "

"Then I suppose we may regard the incident as closed. "

"Yes, I suppose so. "

There was a silence. 

"It was a bit of a failure at the finish, " said Dicky meditatively, "butit was a success on the whole--what?"

"Rather!" said his fellow-conspirators. 

"Our chief difficulty, " continued Dicky, "was to decide on the exacttype of drama to present. I was all for our dressing up as foreigners, and relaying an asphalte street. It would have been top-hole to trotabout in list slippers and pat the hot asphalte down with those thingsthey use. And think of the make-up!--curly moustaches and earrings! Andwe could have jabbered spoof Italian. But then old Robin here, who Imust say has a headpiece on him, pointed out that the scenery and propswould be much too expensive. We should want a cart with a bonfire in itand a sort of witches' cauldron on top, and all kinds of sticky stuff;so we gave up that scheme. We did not feel inclined to mess withgas-pipes or electric wires either, in case we burst ourselves up; so wefinally decided to select some street with a wooden pavement, and maulit about generally for as long as we could. If we got interfered with byanybody official, we meant to talk some rot about the Borough Surveyor, and skedaddle if necessary. But it all worked beautifully!"

"Where did you get your tools and tent?"

"Robin managed that, " said Dicky admiringly. 

Robin looked extremely dour, and I refrained from further inquiry. 

"Robin's got some rum pals, I _don't_ think!" observed Geraldpertinently. 

"Didn't I make these chaps up well?" continued Dicky enthusiastically. "We roared when you passed us at breakfast-time without spotting us. "

"Very creditable impersonation, " I replied, getting up and knocking mypipe out. "I only hope I shan't have to resign my seat over it. If I mayventure to offer a criticism, the weak spot in the enterprise was theidea of inviting your lady friends to come and take tea with you. "

"Just what I said all along, my boy, " remarked the experienced Gerald, wagging his head sagely. "That was what mucked up the show. Whereverthere's a petticoat there's trouble. Oh, I _warned_ them!"

On my way up to bed I flushed Dilly from a window-seat on the staircase, where she had evidently been lingering on the off-chance of asupplementary good-night from Dicky. 

"Well?" I said severely. 

"Well?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"I expect your wife will tell you that when you get upstairs, " saidDilly. 

I tried a fresh line. 

"After the labours of to-day, I should have thought you would have beenglad to go to bed, " I said. "You imp!" And I laughed. There is somethingvery disarming about the Twins' misdemeanours. 

We turned and walked upstairs together, and paused outside Dilly's door. 

"Good-night, Dilly, " I said. "I admired your pluck. "

"It wasn't me, " said Dilly, in a very small voice. 

"Not you?"

"N-no. I said I would come, because Dicky said I daren't, and at thelast moment I funked it. (Adrian, I simply couldn't!) So Dolly wentinstead. "

"Then that was Dolly all the time?"

"Yes. "

"And she went, just to--to----"

"To save my face. She's a brick, " said Dilly. 

This, by the way, was the first occasion on which I realised the truthof Robin's dictum that Dilly and Dolly were girls of widely differentcharacter. 

"And didn't the others recognise her?"

"No. That's the best of it!"

"Not Dicky?"

"No. "

"Not even Robin? He is pretty hard to deceive, you know. "

"No, not even Robin. _None_ of them know Good-night!"

But she was wrong. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

THE POLICY OF THE CLOSED DOOR. 

Dilly's wedding took place the following summer, just before Parliamentrose, and the resources of our establishment were strained to theuttermost to give her a fitting send-off. 

It is true that a noble relative, the head of my wife's family, offeredhis house for the reception, but Dilly emphatically declined to bemarried from any but mine, saying prettily that she would not leave theroof under which she had lived so happily until the last possiblemoment. 

Accordingly we made immense preparations. The drawing-room on the firstfloor, accustomed though it was to accommodate congested andhalf-stifled throngs of human beings, was deemed too small for the mobof wedding-guests whom Kitty expected. 

"You see, dear, " she explained, "we can squash up _good_ people as muchas we like, because their clothes don't matter; but women inwedding-frocks will be furious if they don't get enough elbow-room toshow themselves. "

Accordingly a marquee was erected in the garden at the back of thehouse, opening into the dining-room through the French windows, and itwas arranged that Dicky and Dilly were to take their stand in the middleof the same, what time the guests, having lubricated their utterance atthe _buffet_ in the dining-room _en route_, filed past and deliveredtheir congratulations. After that the company was to overflow into thegarden, there to be moved by a concord of sweet sounds emanating from aband of assassins in pseudo-Hungarian uniforms. 

"And if it rains, " concluded Kitty desperately, "they must have anoverflow meeting in the basement--that's all!"

My library, as I had feared, was appropriated for the presents, and forseveral days I transacted the business of State at the wash-hand-standin my dressing-room, while a stream of callers, ranging from the membersof a Working Men's Club in which Dilly was fitfully interested, down toan organisation of Kitty's whose exact title I can never recall (butwhich Dicky, on first seeing them, immediately summed up as "The HundredWorst Women"), filed solemnly past rows of filigree coffee-services, silver-backed hair-brushes, and art pen-wipers. 

Of the bride-elect I saw little, and when I did, she was usuallystanding, in a state of considerable _déshabille_, amid a kneeling groupof myrmidons, who, with mouths filled with pins and brows seamed withanxiety, were remorselessly building her into some edifice of shimmeringsilk and filmy lace, oblivious of their victim's plaintive intimationsthat she was fit to drop. 

Dicky invited Robin to be his best man, a proceeding which, while itroused some surprise among those who were expecting him to fix upon afriend of longer standing and greater distinction, showed his goodsense, for my secretary proved himself a model of organisation andhelpfulness. Although born and reared up in the straitest sect of someScottish denomination, about which I am unable to particularise beyondthe fact that they regarded the use of harmoniums in churches as "theworship of men's feet, " he betrayed a surprising knowledge of Anglicanritual and stage effect. 

On the wedding morning, having left the bridegroom securely tucked up inbed, under strict orders not to get up till he was called, Robinpersonally conducted a select party of those interested--Dolly, Dilly, another bridesmaid, and myself--to the church, where he showed us theexact positions of our entrances and exits; and then proceeded, with theassistance of Dolly, to plant hassocks about the chancel in such amanner as to leave us no doubts as to the whereabouts of our moorings(or "stances, " as he called them) at the actual ceremony. 

The party was reinforced at this point by the arrival of no less aperson than the bridegroom, who, having risen from his slumbers indefiance of Robin's injunctions, was now proceeding to infringe the lawsof propriety by coming in search of his beloved four hours before he wasentitled to do so. 

However, as Dilly rather pessimistically pointed out, it was probablythe last time she would ever get a kind word out of him, so we gave themten minutes together in the porch, while Robin interviewed vergers andDolly intimidated perspiring persons with red carpets and evergreens. 

On our return home Dilly was snatched away by a cloud of attendantsprites, and we saw her no more until the time came for me to drive herto the church. We heard of her, though; for as we sat at luncheon, plying the bridegroom (who had collapsed after the complete andinevitable fashion of his kind about twelve o'clock) with raw brandy, amessage came down from the upper regions, to the effect that Miss Dillywould take a couple of veal cutlets and a glass of Burgundy, as shewasn't going to be a pale bride if she could help it!

However, this half-hysterical gaiety came to an end in the face ofreality, and in the carriage on the way to church poor Dilly weptunrestrainedly on my shoulder. I mopped her up to the best of myability, but she was still sobbing when we reached the church door, tofind the six bridesmaids, together with Phillis (inordinately proud ofher office of train-bearer), preening themselves in the porch. 

It had been arranged that the organ should break into "The March of thePriests, " from 'Athalie'--Dicky's petition in favour of anecclesiastical rendering of "The Eton Boating Song" had been thrown outwith ignominy--as the bridal procession entered the nave. Unfortunatelythe organ-loft was out of sight of the west door, by which we were toenter, and the conveyance of the starting-signal to the proper quarterat exactly the right moment was a matter of some difficulty. However, Robin's gift for stage-management was sufficient to meet the emergency. When all was ready Dolly calmly mounting the steps of the font to aneminence which commanded a precarious but sufficient view of the body ofthe church, briefly fluttered a scrap of lace handkerchief, and thenstepped demurely down into her place at the head of the bridesmaids. Simultaneously the organ burst into the opening strains of Mendelsohn'smarch--I suppose Robin had been waiting at some point of vantage to passthe signal on--and we advanced up the aisle, amid a general turning ofheads and flutter of excitement. 

The church was packed. In the back pew I remember noticing three youngmen with pads of flimsy paper and well-sucked pencils. I distinctlycaught sight of the words "Sacred edifice" in the nearest MS. , and Ihave no doubt the others contained it as well. 

But Dilly was still quaking on my arm, and the only other spectaclewhich attracted my attention on the way up the aisle was that of my wife(looking very like a bride herself, I thought), sitting in a front pewwith Master Gerald, that infant phenomenon shining resplendently in awhite waistcoat and a "buttonhole" which almost entirely obscured hisfeatures. Then I caught sight of Robin's towering shoulders and the paleface and glassy eye of the bridegroom, and I knew that we had broughtour horses to the water at last, and all that now remained to do was tomake them drink. 

The rest of the ceremony passed off with due impressiveness, if weexcept a slight _contretemps_ arising from the behaviour of my daughter, who, suddenly remembering that the junior bridesmaid but one had not yetpassed any opinion on her new shoes, suddenly sat down on the bride'strain, and, thrusting the shoes into unmaidenly prominence, audiblyinvited that giggling damsel's approbation of the same. However, theever-ready organ drowned her utterance with a timely Amen, and Dicky andDilly completed the plighting of their troth with becoming shyness butobvious sincerity. 

Then came the inevitable orgy of osculation in the vestry, from which Iescaped with nothing worse, so to speak, than a few scratches, despitean unprovoked and unexpected flank attack (when I was signing theregister) from an elderly female in bugles, whom I at first took to be arather giddy pew-opener, but who ultimately proved to be a maiden auntof the bridegroom's. 

After Dicky and Dilly--the latter miraculously restored to high spiritsand looking radiant--had passed smiling and blushing down the aisle, tobe received outside with breathless stares by a large assemblage of thatpeculiar class of people--chiefly females of a certain age--who seem tospend their lives in attending the weddings of total strangers, we allgot home, where there was much champagne, and cake-cutting, andbride-kissing, and melody from the aforementioned musicians in thegarden. 

The presents--guarded with an air of studied aloofness by awooden-jointed detective, clad in garments of such festal splendour asto delude several short-sighted old gentlemen into an impression that hewas the bridegroom--played their usual invaluable part in promotingcirculation among the guests, and supplying a topic for conversation. They certainly sparkled and glittered bravely in the library, where theblinds were drawn and the electric lamps turned on. (Kitty had seen tothat. Silver looks so well by artificial light, and so, by a happy andunpremeditated coincidence, does the female sex. )

The bride and bridegroom departed at last, amid a shower of rice, withthat emblem of conjugal felicity, the satin slipper, firmly adhering tothe back of the brougham. (Master Gerald had seen to _that_. ) Then theguests began to make their adieux and melt away, and presently we foundourselves alone in the marquee, a prey to that swift and penetratingmelancholy that descends upon those who begin to be festive too early inthe day, and find themselves unable to keep it up till bed-time. 

 * * * * *

However, there was a recrudescence of activity and brightness in theevening, as the idea of a small dance had been proposed and carried, andthe invitations issued and accepted, during the five minutes whichwitnessed the departure of the more intimate section of the guests. 

When I returned from the House about midnight--I had gone there chieflyto dine, as lobster claws and melted ices appeared to be the only farein prospect at home--tired to death, and conscious of an incipient coldin the head, arising from forced residence in a house in which hardly adoor had been on its hinges for three days, I became aware that I wasonce again the lessee of a cave of harmony. 

The pseudo-Hungarian assassins were pounding out the latest waltz, witha disregard for time and tune which I at first attributed to champagne, but which a closer survey proved to be due to the fact that the band wasbeing conducted, surprising as it may seem, by my brother-in-law, whohad kindly undertaken to wield the _bâton_, while the Chief Tormentor(or whatever his proper title may have been) charged himself anew at therefreshment counter. A popping of corks in the supper-room apprised meof the fact that my guests were doing their best, at my expense, to makethe Excise Returns a more cheerful feature of next year's Budget. 

I went upstairs in search of a white waistcoat and one or two othernecessary contributions to the festivity of the evening, picking my waywith the utmost care among the greatly-engrossed couples who impededevery step; and finally arrived at my dressing-room, to find that thathallowed apartment had been turned into a ladies' cloak-room, and thatevery available article of furniture stood elbow-deep under someattractive combination of furs and feathers. 

I unearthed the things I required, but lacked the courage to stay andput them on. At any moment I might be invaded by a damsel who had metwith some mishap in the heat of the fray, and was now desirous, as theysay in the navy, of "executing repairs while under steam. " I accordinglyleft the room and mounted towards the top of the house. I had in mymind's eye a snug little apartment, situated somewhere in the attics, devoted chiefly to dressmaking operations, where I knew there was amirror, and I might complete my toilet in peace. 

With becoming modesty I penetrated to this haven by the back-stairs. Ihad just reached the top, which was opposite the door in question, whenI heard voices. Evidently some one was coming up to this same landing bythe front stair. 

A man does not look his best when found creeping up his own back-stairswith a white waistcoat in one hand and a pair of pumps in the other, andI confess I retreated downwards and backwards a couple of paces. Thestair on which I stood was unlighted, and I had a good view of thelanding. 

The voices came nearer, and I could now hear the rustling of silks andlaces. Presently I recognised the voices, and immediately after thistheir owners came into view, with their backs almost towards me. 

"This is the room I mean, " said the man, indicating my goal. 

"That! All right! Only I don't see why you should drag me all the way uphere, " said the girl. "There are much nicer sitting-out placesdownstairs. Still, anything for a rest. Come on!"

She entered the room, followed by her partner. I saw his broad back fora moment as it filled the doorway. Then he turned in my direction withhis hand on the handle, and it seemed to me that he hesitated a moment. 

Finally he shut the door firmly, and--I distinctly heard the key turnedin the lock. 

I went downstairs again. 

 * * * * *

It was four o'clock in the morning. The last guest had gone, thedomestics had retired to their subterranean retreat, and the musicianshad all been booked through to Saffron Hill in one cab. 

The dawn was just breaking over the house-tops on the other side of thesquare, and the sky was bathed in a curious heather-coloured light--asure sign of a wet day to come, said hill-bred Robin. We stood out onthe steps, --Kitty, Dolly, Robin, and I, --and Kitty put her arm round hersister's waist. I knew she was thinking of the absent Dilly. 

Behind us, in the hall, Master Gerald, completely surfeited with aboutsixteen crowded hours of glorious life, lay fast asleep on a settee. 

I looked curiously at Dolly as she leaned on her sister's shoulder. Shewas half a head taller than Kitty, and as she stood there, rosilyflushed, in the dawn of her splendid womanhood, she might have stood forthe very goddess whose first rays were now falling on her upturned faceand glinting hair. 

Then I looked at Robin, towering beside her, and suddenly I felt alittle ashamed of myself. 

For to tell the truth I had been very unhappy that evening, and I hadbeen looking forward in a few minutes' time to unburdening myself toKitty about recent events. But as I surveyed Dolly and Robin, curiouslyalike in their upright carriage and steady gaze, I suddenly realisedthat such a pair could safely be trusted to steer their own course; andI decided there and then not to communicate even to Kitty--my wife andDolly's sister--the knowledge of what I had seen that night. 

Kitty turned impulsively to her sister. 

"After all, I've still got _you_, Dolly, " she said. 

I took a furtive glance at Robin's inscrutable countenance. 

"I--_wonder_!" I said to myself. 

"What, dear?" said Kitty. 

"Nothing. I must carry this young ruffian up to bed, I suppose. "

Curiosity has been most unfairly ear-marked as the exclusive monopoly ofthe female sex. But as I stumbled upstairs that night, bearing in myarms the limp but stertorous carcase of my esteemed relative bymarriage, I could not help wondering (despite my efforts to put awayfrom me a matter which I had decided was not my business) exactly whatRobin _had_ said to Dolly behind that locked door. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

ROBIN'S WAY OF DOING IT. 

What happened when Robin locked the door on himself and Dolly is now setdown here. Strictly speaking it ought to come later, but there is noneed to make a mystery about it. I have taken the account of theproceedings mainly from the letter which Dolly wrote to Dilly three dayslater. 

It would be useless to reproduce that document in full. In the firstplace, it contains a good deal that is not only irrelevant butabsolutely incomprehensible. There is one mysterious passage, forinstance, occurring right in the middle of the letter, beginning, _Toturn the heel, knit to three beyond the seam-stitch, knit two together, purl one, turn: then knit ten, knit two together, knit one, purl one_. .. Introduced by an airy, "By the way, dear, before I forget"----whichappears to have no bearing on the context whatever. 

In the second place, Dolly's literary style is as breathlessly devoid ofpunctuation as that of most of her sex. Commas and notes ofinterrogation form her chief stock-in-trade, though underlining isfreely employed. There is not a single full-stop from start to finish. The extracts from the letter here reproduced have been edited by me. Other details of the incident have been tactfully extracted by Kitty andmyself--chiefly Kitty, I must confess--from the principals themselves, and the whole is now offered to the public, unabridged, with marginalcomments, for the first time. 

 * * * * *

On entering the little room on the landing Dolly dropped on to a shabbybut comfortable old sofa behind the door, and said, with a contentedsigh--

"I'm so tired, Robin. Aren't you? Let's sit down and not talk till it'stime to go downstairs again. It's--Robin, what _are_ you doing?"

Robin was locking the door. 

That operation completed, he turned and looked round the little room. There was an arm-chair in the corner, but he came and sat down on thesofa beside Dolly. Dolly gazed at him dumbly. 

 * * * * *

 "He looked so utterly grim and determined" [says the letter], "that my heart began to bump in a perfectly fatuous way. I felt like a woman who is going to be murdered in a railway tunnel. 

 "He sat down, and one of his huge hands was suddenly stretched towards me, and I thought at first he was trying to grab one of mine. I did my best to edge away along the sofa, but I was up against the end already. 

 "Then his hand opened, and something dropped into my lap. It was the key of the door. 

 "'I have locked it, ' he said, 'not with any intention of keeping you in, but in the hope of keeping other people out. You are perfectly free to get up and go whenever you please, if you don't wish to listen to what I have to say. '

 "Well, dear, I suppose I ought to have risen to my full height, and, with a few superb gestures of haughty contempt, have swept majestically from the room. But--I didn't! I saw I was in for another proposal, and as the man couldn't eat me I decided to let him do his worst. 

 "It was a weird proposal, though. " [_Spelt 'wierd. '_] "It wasn't exactly what he said, because one is never surprised at anything a man may say when he is proposing; but the way he said it. All men say pretty much the same thing in the end, but most of them are so _horribly_ nervous that they simply don't know what they're talking about for the first five minutes or so. (Do you remember poor little Algy Brock? He was nearly _crying_ all the time. At least he was with me, and I suppose he was with you too. ) But Robin might have been having a chat with his solicitor the way he behaved. I'll tell you. .. "

Robin apparently began by telling Dolly, quite simply and plainly, thathe loved her. Then he gave a brief outline of the history of hisaffection. It had begun at the very beginning of things, he said, almostas soon as he discovered that he could distinguish Dolly from Dillywithout the aid of the brown spot. "And that was after I had been in thehouse just three days, " he added. 

For some time, it appeared, he had been content to be pleasantly inlove. He enjoyed Dolly's society when it came his way, but with nativecaution he had taken care to avoid seeking too much of it in case heshould gradually find himself unable to do without it. 

"I saw from the first, " he said, "that you were entirely unconscious ofmy feelings towards you; and I would not have had it otherwise. If I wasto succeed at all it must be as an acquired taste; and acquired tastes, as you know, are best formed unconsciously. "

Dolly nodded to show her detached appreciation of the soundness of thispoint. 

"I permitted myself one indulgence, " Robin continued. "I dedicated abook to you. "

"O-oh!" said Dolly, genuinely interested. "Was that me? Dilly and Ithought it must be a girl in Scotland. "

Then she realised that this was a step down from her pedestal ofaloofness, and was silent again. Robin went on--

"Yes, it was you. It was a sentimental thing to do, but it afforded meimmense pleasure. Love lives more on the homage it pays than that whichit receives. Have you noticed that?"

"I have never thought about it, " said Dolly distantly. 

"I thought not, " replied Robin; "because it shows, what I have alwaysbeen tolerably certain of, that you have never been in love. However, toresume. " [_"Like a lecture on Greek Roots, or something equally fusty, "_observes Dolly at this point. ] "The time came, as it was bound to come, when I realised that I must tell you I loved you"----

 "I rather like the way he always said _'love'_ straight out, " comments Dolly: "most men are so frightened of it. They say 'am fond of' or 'care for' or something feeble like that. All except the curate with pink eyes. (You remember him? Dora Claverton took him afterwards on the rebound. ) He said 'esteem highly' I think. "

----"or leave this house altogether. But before doing that I had todecide two things: firstly, whether I was good enough for you, andsecondly, if not now, whether I ever should be. "

Dolly's half-closed eyes opened a trifle wider. This was certainly amethodically-minded young man. 

"It was difficult to decide the first question in practice, " continuedRobin. "In theory, of course, any man who is a _man_--honest, clean, andkind--is a fitting mate for any woman. Don't you think so?"

"No, " said Dolly. 

"I see, " said Robin gently. "The theoretical is mainly the man's pointof view: woman looks straight to practical results. She is ratherinclined to take the virtues I have mentioned for granted, or do withoutthem; and she founds her opinion of a man almost solely upon hiscapacity for boring her or stimulating her. In other words, she isguided by her instinct. Isn't she?"

"Is she?" said Dolly, determined this time to maintain her attitude ofindifference. 

"I think so, " said Robin. "However, knowing how impossible it is for onesex to look at a matter from the point of view of another, I decided tostick to my own methods. So I made a summary of my points, good and bad. They are these: I am strong and healthy; I possess an appetite for hardwork; I was born with brains; I have considerable capacity fororganisation----"

"Some people have a good conceit of themselves!" said Dolly. 

"_Every_ one should have, " replied Robin with conviction. "And, " headded, "most of us have. _I_ have--_you_ have!"

"Oh!" said Dolly indignantly. 

"But a man may have a good conceit of himself, " Robin continuedsoothingly, "without being what the world calls conceited. Modestyconsists not in taking a low estimate of one's own worth, but inrefraining from the expectation that the world will take a high one. "

Dolly nodded gravely. 

"I see, " she said. "I didn't know you meant that. Yes, there issomething in what you say. "

"I thank you, " said Robin. "It is very helpful to me to get thiscourteous hearing from you; for to tell you the truth, " he added ratherexplosively, "I find it a very, very great effort to speak to you likethis at all. You see, I am talking of things that go right to the centreof the human heart--things that a man never speaks of to a man, and onlyonce to a woman. It has to be done, but it is hard, hard!"

He drew a long breath, in a manner which made the sofa tremble; andDolly suddenly realised the height and depth of the barrier of reserveand pride that this grave and undemonstrative man had had to break downbefore he could offer her the view of his inmost soul to which heconsidered that she was entitled. She felt a sudden pang of awe, mingledwith compassionate sympathy. She was not given to wearing her heart onher sleeve herself. 

"Well, " continued Robin, evidently relieved by this little confession, "those are my assets. On the other hand, I have no money, no position--Iwill not say no birth, for I come of good, honest stock--and myprospects are at present in the clouds. But to one type of wife all thatwould not matter a scrap. There are two types, you know--two types of_good_ wife, that is. "

 "I would have given worlds, " says Dolly here, "just to have said 'Oh!' or something; but for the life of me I couldn't help asking what the two types were. "

"The first, " said Robin, "is the wife who loves her husband because sheis proud of him, because he is successful and powerful, and peopleadmire him; and not because she has any conception of or sympathy withthe qualities which have made him what he is. To such a one the husbandmust come with his reputation ready made, and they will enjoy ittogether. The other type loves her husband because she sees through him, yet believes in him and sympathises with his aims, and intends to make asuccess of him. And she usually does. "

"And which am I?" inquired Dolly. 

"The latter, undoubtedly--the higher type. And therefore, if there hadbeen nothing else in the way, I think I should have given myself thebenefit of the doubt. But----"

 "He turned and looked at me here, " writes Dolly, and said--

 "'But your feminine instinct is chafing against all this laborious weighing of pros and cons. In your own mind you summed up the situation ten minutes ago. I am--"impossible. " Isn't that it?'

 "My _dear_, I nearly _screamed_, for of course that is just what was in my mind. But I couldn't very well say so, so I just sat there and looked rather idiotic and he went on--

 "'In other words, I am not quite a gentleman. '

 "Then I said quite suddenly--

 "'Robin, whatever else you may be, you _are_ a gentleman. '

 "He got quite pink. 'Thank you, ' he said. 'But for all that, I am too rough a suitor for such a polished little aristocrat as yourself. ' (Rather cheek, that! After all, Dilly, we're five feet seven. ) 'We live in an artificial sort of world; and a man, in order not to jar on those around him, requires certain social accomplishments. I have few--at present. You have taught me a great deal, but I should still rather discredit you as a husband. My want of polish would 'affront' you, as we say in Scotland. I am a better beater than shot; I can break a horse better than I can ride it; and I dance a reel better than I waltz. I have strength, but no grace; ability, but no distinction. Of course, if you and I really loved each other--you being of Type Two--none of these things would matter. But for all that, it would hurt you to see people smiling at your husband's little _gaucheries_, wouldn't it?'

 "I didn't answer, and he got up and went and leaned against the mantelpiece. 

 "'Listen, ' he said, 'and I will tell you what I have decided to do. I have made up my mind not to have a try for you--badly though I want it--till I consider that I have reached your standard. I fixed that standard myself, so it is a very, very high one, I have been schooling myself and shaping myself to attain it ever since I met you. But I have not quite reached it yet, and therefore I have nothing to ask of you now. '"

"Then what on earth have you brought me here for?" inquired Dolly, feeling vaguely aggrieved. 

Robin surveyed her rather wistfully, and then smiled in a disarmingfashion. 

"That was weakness, " he said, "sheer weakness. But I think it waspardonable. I saw, now that your sister was married, that the days ofyour old irresponsible flirtations were over, and that you wouldhenceforth regard proposals of marriage as much more serious things thanhitherto. Consequently you might marry any day, without ever knowingthat a little later on you would have received an offer from me. I havebrought you here, then, to tell you that I am a prospective candidate, but that I do not feel qualified to put down my name at present. Ideallyspeaking, I ought to have kept silence until the moment when Iconsidered that I was ready for you; but--well, there are limits toself-repression, and I have allowed myself this one little outbreak. AllI ask, then, is that in considering other offers you will bear somewherein the back of your mind the remembrance that you will, if you desireit, one day have the refusal of me. I admit that the possibility of yourbeing influenced by the recollection is very remote, but I am going toleave nothing undone that _can_ be done to get you. "

 "By this time, " Dolly continues elegantly, "I was getting considerably flummoxed. The whole business was very absurd and uncomfortable, but I couldn't help feeling rather complimented at the way he evidently regarded me--as a sort of little tin goddess on a pedestal out of reach, being asked to be so good as to stand still a moment while Robin went to hunt for the steps--and I also felt a little bit afraid of him. He was so quiet and determined over it all. He seemed to have it all mapped out in a kind of time-table inside him. However, I pulled myself together and decided to contribute my share to the conversation. I hadn't had much of a look in, so far. 

 "So I settled down to talk to him like a mother. I began by saying that I was very much obliged and honoured, and all that, but that he had better put the idea out of his head once and for all. I liked him very much, and had always regarded him as a great friend, quite one of the family--you know the sort of stuff--but----

 "It was no good. He held up his hand like a policeman at a crossing, and said--

 "'Please say nothing. I have asked you no question of any kind, so no answer is required. All that I have said to-night has been in the nature of an _intimation_. ' (O-h! how like church!)

 "Then he sat down on the sofa beside me, very gently, and said--

 "'The intimation in brief is this. I love you; and some day, please God, I shall ask you to marry me. But not until I feel that you would lose nothing by doing so. '

 "We both sat very still for a few minutes after that. I fancy we were both doing a little thinking. My chief reflection was that Robin had had rather the better of the interview, because he had made me listen to him when I was determined not to. Suddenly Robin said--

 "'Now that the business part of this conversation is over, I am going to allow myself a luxury. I have been talking most of the time about myself. For just five minutes I shall talk about you. I will tell you what I think of you. '

 "He looked at his watch and began. Dilly, I had no idea I had so many good points! He put them better than any man has ever done before. But then the other men were always so jumbled up, and this creature was as cool and collected as if he were reading a Stores Catalogue. 

 "But he let himself go at last. It was my fault, though. I was in rather a twitter by this time, for although the whole thing was simply absurd--of course one couldn't marry a wild untamed creature like that, _could_ one, Dilly?--I couldn't help seeing what a man he was, and feeling sorry that things couldn't have been a bit different, if only for his sake. So I gave him my hand" [I can see her do it] "and said: 'Poor old Robin!'

 "He _seized_ it--my child, it has waggled like a blanc-mange ever since!--and kissed it. Then, quite suddenly, he broke out into a sort of rhapsody-like _'The Song of Solomon, '_ only nicer--with his head bowed over my hands. (He had got hold of the other one too, by this time. ) I felt perfectly helpless, so I let him run on. I shan't tell you what he said, dear, because it wouldn't be cricket. Anyhow, a perfectly idiotic tear suddenly rolled down my nose--after all, I had had a _fearfully_ long day--and I tried to pull my hands away. Robin let them go at once. 

 "'You are right. The time for such things is not yet, ' he said, in a queer Biblical sort of way. 'It was a sudden weakness on my part. I had not meant it, you may be sure. '

 "The only thing I _am_ sure about, " I said, feeling thoroughly vexed about the tear, "is that we have been in this room nearly an hour. Please unlock the door. 

 "Then we went downstairs. "

After that follow one or two postscripts of a reflective nature, thegeneral trend of which seems to indicate that Robin is rather a dear, but quite impossible. 

 * * * * *

"A flippant and unfeeling letter, " you say, sir? Perhaps. But there isoften no reserve so deep or so delicate as that which is veiled by afrivolous exterior and a mocking attitude towards sentiment in general. Some sensitive people are so afraid of having their hearts dragged tolight that, to escape inquisition, they pretend they do not possess any. Moreover, I know Dolly well enough to be certain that she was not quiteso brutally unkind to Robin during this interview as she would have usbelieve. 

"The blundering creature! He went about it in _quite_ the wrong way, "you say, madam? Very likely. But if a woman only took a man when he wentabout it in exactly the right way, how very few marriages there wouldbe!

BOOK TWO. 

THE FINISHED ARTICLE

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

A MISFIRE. 

I. 

There is an undefinable character and distinctiveness about Sundaymorning which is not possessed by any other day of the week. 

Not that the remaining six are lacking in individuality. Monday is adepressed and reluctant individual; Tuesday is a full-blooded andenergetic citizen; Wednesday a cheerful and contented gentleman who doesnot intend to overwork himself to-day, --this is probably due to the factthat we used to have a half-holiday on Wednesdays at school; and when Igot into Parliament I found that the same rule held there; Thursday Iregard as one who ploughs steadily on his way, lacking enthusiasm butcomfortably conscious of a second wind; Friday is a debilitated buthopeful toiler, whose sole joy in his work lies in anticipating itsspeedy conclusion; and Saturday is a radiant fellow with a straw hat anda week-end bag. 

Still, one week-day is very like another at waking time. My mentalvision, never pellucid, is in its most opaque condition in the earlygrey of the morning; and at Oxford, I remember, I found it necessary toinstruct my scout to rouse me from slumber in some such fashion as this:"Eight o'clock on Thursday mornin', sir!" (as if I had slept sinceMonday at least), or "'Alf-past nine, slight rain, and a Toosday, sir!"

However, no one was ever yet needed to inform me that it was Sundaymorning. This is perhaps natural enough in town, where the silence ofthe streets and the sound of bells proclaim the day; but why the samephenomenon should occur in the middle of a Highland moor, where everyday is one glorious open-air Sabbath, passes my comprehension. 

I discussed the problem after breakfast as I sat and smoked my pipe inthe heathery garden of Strathmyrtle, a shooting-lodge at which we werebeing hospitably entertained by Kitty's uncle, Sir John Rubislaw, aretired Admiral of the Fleet, whose forty years' official connectionwith Britannia's realm betrayed itself in a nautical roll, syncopated bygout, and what I may describe as a hurricane-deck voice. My threecompanions in the debate were my host, Master Gerald, and another guestin the house, one Dermott, an officer in a Highland regiment. 

The Admiral ascribed my Sabbath intuition to the working of some inwardand automatic monitor; while Dermott, among whose many sterlingqualities delicate fancy was not included, put it down to the smell ofsome special dish indigenous to Sunday breakfast. My brother-in-law'scontribution to the debate was an unseemly and irreverent parallelbetween Saturday night potations and Sunday morning "heads. "

To us entered Dolly and Phillis. 

Our hostess, together with Kitty and the other girl of the party--anAmerican young lady of considerable personal attractions--had driven offto church in what is locally called a "machine. " The duties of escorthad been voluntarily undertaken by an undergraduate named Standish, whowas the latest recruit to the American young lady's army of worshippers. The rest of us had stayed at home--the Admiral because he notinfrequently did so; I because I was expecting Robin back by the"machine" (which was to pick him up at a wayside station, where he hadbeen sitting on his portmanteau ever since six o'clock that morning, having been dropped there by the night mail from London), and wasanticipating two or three hours' solid work with him; Gerald because hehad succeeded in evading his eldest sister's eye during the search forchurch recruits; Dolly to look after Phillis; and Captain Dermott forreasons not unconnected with Dolly. 

It was Phillis's birthday, but out of consideration for Scottish viewson Sabbath observance the festivities in connection with thatanniversary had been postponed until the morrow. However, this did notprevent my daughter from demanding (and obtaining) various specialprivileges of an unofficial character this hot Sunday morning. Consequently a spiritually willing but carnally incompetent band, consisting of one jovial but arthritic baronet, one docile butself-conscious warrior, one indulgent but overheated parent, andDolly--Gerald stood scornfully aloof--were compelled to devote the nexttwo hours to a series of games, stage-plays, and allegories of aninnocuous but exhausting description. 

We began by joining hands and walking in a circle, solemnly chanting aditty of the "I-saw-a-ship-a-sailing" variety, which culminated in thefollowing verse--

 "Then three times round went that gallant ship, Then three times round went she; Then three times round went that gallant ship--

(Here we were commanded by the mistress of the revels, in a hoarse andhurried stage whisper, to be ready to fall down)

 --And sank to the bottom--of--the--sea!"

"Now all fall down!" screamed Phillis. 

We did so, and lay on the grass in serried heaps. The remark which theAdmiral made when my left elbow descended upon his goutiest foot wasfortunately obscured by the fact that his face was inside his hat at themoment. 

After that we performed the "most lamentable comedy" of "The ThreeBears. " Phillis assigned the parts, reserving for herself the _rôle_ ofCurly Locks and Stage Manager. Dolly was cast for Mother Bear, CaptainDermott for Father Bear, and I for Baby Bear. The Admiral, at his ownurgent request, was allotted the comparatively unimportant part of BabyBear's bed, and sat nursing his foot and observing with keen relish thepreparations of the Bear family for their morning walk. We set out atlast, all three on our hands and knees, Dolly and Dermott crawlingamicably side by side, heroically regardless of white skirt and Sundaysporran; I, as befitted my youth and station, bringing up the rear. 

The Bears having vacated their domicile (the grass plot), Curly Locks, after much furtive peeping round bushes, entered and advanced to therustic table, where she proceeded to test the contents of the variousporridge-bowls (represented by two tobacco-pouches and an ash-trayrespectively). 

"Too hot!" she said, after sampling the first bowl. 

"Too cold!" she continued, trying the next. 

"A-a-ah!" she cried, coming to the third; and swallowed its contents(some heather-tops) with every appearance of enjoyment. 

After that came the inspection of the beds (two sofa-cushions and theAdmiral), and finally Curly Locks retired to rest on her grand-uncle'sknee. 

Then the Three Bears came painfully back from the shrubbery, and CurlyLocks' acts of spoliation were revealed one by one. My assumption ofgrief on the discovery of my empty porridge-bowl was so realistic thatthe Stage Manager sat up in bed and commended me for it. Finally we wentthe round of the furniture; Curly Locks was duly discovered; and I wasengaged in a life-and-death struggle for her shrieking person with thebed itself, when there was a crunching of gravel, and the "machine"drove up with Robin inside it. 

After my secretary had greeted those of us whom he knew, and beeninterrupted in the middle of a rapturous embrace from Phillis to beintroduced to those whom he did not, I took him off indoors for a meal, through the breakfast-room window, and opened the portfolio ofcorrespondence which he had brought me from London. 

"Hallo! Here is a letter for Dermott, " I said. "I'll take it to him. "

I stepped through the window and handed the letter to Dermott, who wasfalling into line for a fresh game just outside. 

"That envelope looks terribly official, " said Dolly. "What does it allmean?"

"I expect it means Aldershot, " said Dermott ruefully. "However, I shan'topen it till lunch-time. " And he stuffed the offending epistle into hispocket, and returned to the game in hand with a zest and abandon thatbetrayed ulterior motives in every antic. 

We had seen a good deal of Captain Dermott that summer. Somehow he hadbeen in nearly every house we had visited; and his laborious expressionsof pleased surprise at meeting us there had now given way to speciousand transparent explanations of his own presence. The experts atcountless tea-tables and shooting-lunches were practically unanimous inthe opinion that Dolly could land her fish when she chose now; and asthe fish was a good fellow, and could offer her three thousand a-yearand the reflected glory of a D. S. O. , it was generally conceded that myyoungest sister-in-law--have I ever mentioned that Dolly was the juniorTwin?--was about to do extremely well for herself. 

I sat by Robin as he consumed his breakfast, and waded through mycorrespondence. There was a good deal to sign and a good deal to digest, and a good deal that was of no importance whatsoever. But the _clou_ ofthe whole budget was contained in a private letter from my Chief. I readit. 

"My word, Robin!" I said. "There's to be a Dissolution in January. "

There was no answer, and I looked up. 

Robin was not listening. His attention had wandered to the game inprogress on the lawn. This was one of Phillis' most cherished pastimes, and was called "Beckoning. " The players, except the person who for thetime being filled the _rôle_ of "It, " stood patiently in a row, until"It, " after mature consideration, beckoned invitingly to one of them toapproach. This invitation might or might not be a genuine one, forsometimes the player on responding was received by the beckoner withhisses and other symptoms of distaste, and fell back ignominiously onthe main body. But if you were the _real_ object of the beckoner'saffections, you were greeted with embraces and a cry of "I choose you!"and succeeded to the proud post of "It. "

It was a simple but embarrassing game, calling for the exercise ofconsiderable tact when played by adults. At the present moment Philliswas beckoner, while Dolly, Dermott, and the Admiral stood meekly in lineawaiting selection. Dolly and the Admiral were each called without beingchosen, and Phillis's final selection proved to be Dermott, who, havingreceived an enthusiastic salute from the retiring president, now stoodsheepishly on one leg surveying the expectant trio before him. 

He began by beckoning to his host; and, having relieved that gentleman'sapprehensions by sibilant noises, waggled a nervous finger at Dolly. Dolly advanced obediently. 

"Choose her, if you like, " said Phillis magnanimously. 

Dermott's martial eye kindled, but he made no sign, and the gamefaltered in its stride for a moment. 

"Say, " interpolated the prompter, "'I choose you!' and then k----"

But Dermott, hastily emitting a hiss which must have cost him aheartrending effort, relegated the greatly relieved Dolly to the ranks, and smoothed over the situation by "choosing" my daughter, to that youngperson's undisguised gratification. 

It was at this phase in the proceedings that Robin's attention began towander from the affairs of State, and I had to repeat my news of theimpending Dissolution to him twice before he grasped its fullsignificance. Even then he displayed about one-tenth of the excitement Ishould have expected of him; and finally he admitted that he wassomewhat _dérangé_ after his night journey, and suggested a postponementof business in favour of a little recreation on the lawn. 

We accordingly added ourselves to the party, just in time to join thecast of Phillis' next production. This was an ambitious but complicateddrama of an allegorical type, in which Robin appeared--not for the firsttime, evidently--as a boy called Henry, and Phillis doubled the parts ofHenry's mother and a fairy. These two _rôles_ absorbed practically thewhole of what is professionally known as "the fat" of the piece, and theother members of the company were relegated--to their ill-disguisedrelief--to parts of purely nominal importance. 

The curtain rose (if I may use the expression) upon Henry's humble home, where Henry was discovered partaking of breakfast (fir-cones). Hecomplained bitterly to his mother of the hardship of _(a)_ early rising, _(b)_ going to school, and _(c)_ enduring chastisement when he gotthere. The next scene revealed him in class, where the schoolmaster(Dolly, assiduously prompted by Phillis) asked him a series ofquestions, which he answered so incorrectly as to incur the extremepenalty of "the muckle tawse. " (Here what textual critics term "internalevidence of a later hand" peeped out unmistakably. ) The punishmenthaving been duly inflicted by Dolly with a rug-strap, Henry retired, suffused with tears, to "a mountain-top, " where he gave vent to a seriesof bitter reflections on the hardness of his lot and the hollowness oflife in general. 

He must have "gagged" unduly here, for presently he was cut short by astern admonition to "wish for a fairy. "

"I wish for a fairy, " said Henry dutifully. 

Phillis, given her cue at last, pirouetted before him with outstretchedskirts. 

"Go on!" she whispered excitedly. "Say, 'I wish that all Pain wasPleasure and all Pleasure Pain. '"

"Oh, sorry!" said Henry. "I wish that all Pain was Pleasure and PleasurePain. "

"Have then thy wish!" announced the fairy solemnly, and fluttered away. 

The drama thereafter pursued a remorselessly logical and improvingcourse. Having got his wish, the luckless Henry found that his onlymoments of pleasure were those during which he was enduring the tawse, getting out of bed on a cold morning, or doing something equallyunpleasant. On the other hand, his comfortable bed had become so painfulthat he could only obtain rest by filling it with stones; and hismatutinal porridge was only made palatable by the addition of a handfulof gravel. 

After a fruitless interview with the family physician (Captain Dermott), in which the patient's mother set forth her offspring's symptoms withembarrassing frankness, Henry was compelled, as a last resort, to payone more visit to the mountain-top. The indulgent fairy kindly agreed toput things right, but only under penalty of an improving homily oncontentment with one's lot and the fatuity of asking for what you do notreally want. This was only half finished when the party returned fromchurch, and Phillis, realising that the absolute despotism of the lastfew hours would now be watered down by an unsentimental mother into alimited monarchy at the best, retired within her shell and declared therevels at an end. 

II. 

"What was the church like?" I inquired at lunch. 

"I have witnessed more snappy entertainments, " remarked Miss Buncle, theAmerican girl, through her pretty nose. "Still, we smiled some. MrStandish here got quite delirious when the minister prayed for 'theadjacent country of England, which, as Thou knowest, O Lord, lies sometwa hundred miles to the sooth of us, '--I'm sorry I can't talk Scotch, Mr Fordyce, --as if he was afraid that Providence might mail the blessingto the wrong address and Iceland would get it. "

Kitty broke in upon Miss Buncle's reminiscences. 

"Who do you think we saw in church?" she said. "I nearly forgot to tellyou. Your uncle, Robin--Sir James Fordyce!"

Robin nodded his head in a confirmatory way. 

"He is often up here at this time of year, " he said. 

"He has friends here, perhaps?" said I. 

"Oh yes; he has friends. "

I could tell from Robin's voice that he was nursing some immense joke, but he betrayed no inclination to share it with us. Kitty went on. 

"He was sitting in a pew with some farmery-looking people. There was apatriarchal old man, very stately and imposing, rather like--like----"

"Moses?" I suggested. 

"No. I don't _think_ Moses was like that. "

I had got as far as 'Aar'--when Lady Rubislaw said--

"Elijah?"

"That's it, " replied Kitty. "_Just_ like Elijah. " (All thingsconsidered, I cannot imagine why Moses would not have done as well. )"Then beside him was a perfectly dear old lady. Not so very old either;say sixty. Of course they may not have belonged to Sir James at all: hemay just have been put in their pew. Still, they kept handing himBibles, and looking up places for him at singing time. "

"That means nothing, " said I. "It's the merest courtesy here. "

"True, " said our hostess. "I was having a most lovely little doze duringthe Second Lesson, or whatever they call it, when a most officious youngwoman three or four pews away took up an enormous Bible, found theplace, squeaked down the aisle, and thrust it under my nose. I had tohold it up for fifty-seven verses, " she concluded pathetically. 

"Did you go and speak to Sir James after the service?" I inquired. 

"No. That was _this_ child's fault, " said Kitty, indicating Miss Buncle. 

"How?"

"Well, there was a rather gorgeous-looking chieftain sort of personsitting in a front pew, and I saw Maimie twisting her head all duringthe service to look at him. "

"Yes, " admitted the culprit frankly. "Put me in the neighbourhood of akilt, and I'm a common rubberneck straight away, Mr Inglethwaite. I'mjust mad to know all those cunning tartans by heart. "

"The moment the service was over, " continued my wife severely, "I sawher edging through the crowd in the churchyard towards the chieftain. For a moment I thought she was going to ask him his name. "

"I _wasn't_!" declared Miss Buncle indignantly. 

"No, you did worse. She got close to the unfortunate man, " continued mywife to us, "and suddenly I noticed that she had in her hand one ofthose little books you buy at railway book-stalls in the Highlands, withpatterns of all the tartans in them and the name of the clan underneath. By the time I got up to her she had found the right tartan in the book, and was matching it up against the back of the poor unconsciouscreature's kilt. Then she turned to me in a triumphant sort of way andsimply _bellowed_--'M'Farlane!'"

"We shall probably be hauled up before the Kirk-session, " said theAdmiral. "But I wonder who Sir James Fordyce's friends can be. I knowmost of the people who have shootings about here, but none of them arefriends of his that I can think of. We must get him to come and shoothere one day. Rather late for to-morrow's drive, but there will beanother on Thursday. I wonder who his host is, though?"

"I might help you, " said Robin. "An old man, you said, with his wife?"

"Yes--oldish, " said Kitty. 

"Was there a son with them?"

"N-no. "

"No? Well, he would be away at the lamb-sales, perhaps, " said Robinreflectively. "Was there a daughter?"

"Now you mention it, " said Kitty, "there was. A nice, bonny-lookinggirl. Twenty-four, I should say. "

"Twenty-three, " said Robin. 

We all turned on him. 

"Now then, what is all the mystery? Out with it! Who is the girl--eh?"

"She would be my sister, " said Robin calmly. "And the others were myfather and mother. "

There was a little gasp of surprise all round the table. Robin went on--

"My home is just seven miles from here. This is the first time I havegot near my folk for six years. To-morrow I mean to go and see them. Andthey would like fine, I know, " he added a little shyly, "if some of youwould come with me. "

"I'll come, " said Kitty promptly. "I should love to meet your mother, Robin. "

"May _I_ come, Uncle Robin?" piped Phillis. "For a birfday treat, " sheadded, in extenuation. 

Applications for an invitation rained in. Apart from a desire to pleasea man whom we all respected--and our ready offers undoubtedly did pleasehim--I think we were all a little curious to view the mould which hadturned Robin out. 

"You can't _all_ go, " said the Admiral at last. "There's thegrouse-drive to-morrow, and eight butts to fill; not to mention the needof female society at lunch. "

Finally it was arranged that Robin should take Kitty and Phillis over ona sort of preliminary call, and they could arrange for the establishmentof more substantial relations. 

But that evening, as the ladies were having their candles lit at thefoot of the staircase, I heard Robin say to Dolly--

"Will you come with us to-morrow?"

Dolly seemed to consider, and was about to reply, when Dermott, whonever seemed very far away now, cut in. 

"Too late, Fordyce! Miss Rubislaw has promised to come and load for mein my butt to-morrow afternoon. "

"No, I'm afraid it can't be managed this time, Robin, " said Dolly. "ButI am coming with you later in the week, if you'll take me. "

Robin said nothing. 

Now Dolly, I knew, did not approve of the inclusion of females in thebusiness part of a day's shooting; and she regarded Miss Buncle and hertwenty-eight bore with pious horror. The fact that she had consented tocome and hold Dermott's second gun to-morrow seemed to indicate thatthat gallant sportsman had accomplished a feat which had already provedtoo much for several highly deserving young men--I was not quite surethat Robin was not one of them; and there seemed to be every reason toanticipate (especially since he was due to start for Aldershot to-morrownight) that when the Captain returned from the chase to-morrowafternoon, his bag would include one head of game of an interesting andunusual variety. 

III. 

At ten o'clock next morning we met the keepers, dogs, and beaters notfar from the first line of butts on the moor. There was a hot sun, andthe bees were bumbling in the heather. Somehow Whitehall seemed a longway off. 

The number of guns had been brought up to seven by the inclusion of aneighbouring laird--one Gilmerton of Nethercraigs--and his son. 

"All the same, we are still a man short, " complained the Admiral, towhom a house-party was a ship's company, and a day's shooting a sort ofterrestrial naval manoeuvre. "However, we will cut out the end butt ineach drive and put a stop there to turn the birds farther in. Now we'lldraw for places. Each man to take the butt whose number he draws, counting from the right and moving up one place after each drive. AndHeaven help the man who draws number four now, for it means number sevenand a climb up The Pimple for him directly after lunch!"

There was a general laugh at this, which swelled to an unseemly roarwhen I drew the fatal number. 

However, after lunch was a long way off, and I trotted contentedly tonumber four and settled down to a pipe, while the head-keeper led offhis mixed multitude of assistants, dogs, boys, and red flags to make a_détour_ and work the game up towards us. 

The first drive was simple. We were in a long and rather shallow glen, across which ran a low ridge, dividing it into two almost equalsections. The butts were placed along this ridge; and after the birdshad been sent over us the beaters would work round to the other end ofthe glen and drive them back again. The shooting would be easy, for theground lay flat and open in either direction. 

I found myself between Standish and Gerald; the former on my right, andthe latter, together with the young keeper to whom his shootingeducation had been entrusted, in the butt on my left. Beyond Standishwas Dermott, the crack shot of the party, and beyond Dermott, in numberone butt, was the Admiral. The Gilmertons, _père et fils_, occupied thebutts on the extreme left. 

The drive was moderately successful. At first the birds came alongsingly, mostly on the right, and fell an easy prey to Dermott and theAdmiral. But presently a great pack got up comparatively near the butts, and fairly "rushed" us. I brought off an easy right and left straight infront of me, and then, snapping out my cartridges and slipping anotherin, I swung round and just managed to bring down a third bird with a"stern chaser"--a feat which I regretted to observe no one else noticed, for there was a perfect fusilade all along the line at the moment. Master Gerald, who had discharged his first barrel straight into the"brown, " succeeded, in obedience to his mentor's admonitions, incovering an old cock-grouse with his second, and carefully followingthat flustered fowl's course with the point of his gun, pulled thetrigger just as it skimmed, low down, with an agitated squawk, betweenhis butt and mine. I heard the shot rattle through the heather, and twopellets hit on my left boot. 

The congenial task of telling Gerald, in a low but penetrating voice, exactly what I thought of him, occupied my attention so fully for thenext minute that I failed to observe a blackcock which suddenly swung upinto view and whizzed straight past my head, to the audible annoyance ofthe distant Admiral and the undisguised joy of my unrepentant relative. 

No more birds came after that, and presently, the line of beaters havingadvanced within range, we put down our guns and collected the slain. Wehad not done badly, considering the fact that the main body of the birdshad swerved away to our left over the unoccupied butt, despite thevaliant efforts of an urchin with a red flag to turn them. Dermottheaded the list with four and a half brace, and Gerald brought up therear with a mangled corpse which had received the contents of his firstbarrel point-blank at a distance of about six feet. The laird ofNethercraigs (a cautious and economical sportsman, who was reputed neverto loose off his gun at anything which did not come and perch on hisbutt) had fired just three cartridges and killed just three birds, buthis son had seven. The Admiral and Standish had also had average luck, and altogether we had fourteen and a half brace to show for ourexertions. 

Off went the beaters again, and we changed butts and waited. The seconddrive gave us fewer birds but better sport. There were no great packs, but we got plenty to do in the way of sharp-shooting, and Gerald'skeeper--a singularly ambiguous title in this case--succeeded byincreased vigilance in preserving me from being further sniped by myenterprising brother-in-law. 

We totalled up twelve brace this time, and then made ready for a trampto the next line of butts, away round the shoulder of a fairly distanthill. 

"We may as well spread out and walk 'em up this bit, " said our host. "Wecan't have the dogs, though, as the keepers and beaters are going adifferent way; and each man will have to carry what he shoots. In thatcase we'll leave rabbits alone. Gerald, you had better get to theextreme left of the line. That will limit the risk to one man!"

"I'll carry home your bag if you'll carry mine, Gerald, " cried Standishfacetiously, as my brother-in-law, a trifle offended at the Admiral'slast pleasantry, proceeded with much dignity to his allotted place. 

Gerald was almost out of earshot, but he waved a defiant acquiescence. 

We tramped round the shoulder of the hill, keeping our distance as wellas we could on the steep slope, and occasionally putting up something toshoot at. My bag this time made no great demands on my powers ofporterage, consisting as it did of a solitary snipe. However, whennearly an hour later we gathered at the foot of the next line ofbutts--the last before lunch--most of us were carrying something. Standish gleefully displayed two hares and a brace of grouse. 

"There is something for Master Gerald to carry back to theluncheon-cart, " he said. "I wonder what he has got for me. Where is he?"

"I don't quite know, " said Dermott, who had been Gerald's nearestneighbour. "He was so offended by our gibes about the danger of hissociety that he walked rather wide of me. He kept down at the very footof the hill most of the time, almost out of sight. "

"I hope he hasn't shot himself, " said the Admiral rather anxiously. 

"Never fear!" said I. "That will not be his end. Here he is. "

Sure enough, Gerald appeared at this moment. He was empty-handed. 

Simple and primitive jests greeted him. 

"Hallo, old man, what have you shot--eh? Where is your little lot?"

Gerald smiled seraphically. 

"You'll find it down there, " he said--"in that patch of bracken, Standish. I left it for you to bring up. Rather heavy for me. "

"What on earth have you shot?" we cried involuntarily. 

"A sheep, " said Gerald calmly. 

Great heavens!

We rushed down the hill as one man--and came up again looking not alittle hot and uncommonly foolish. The sheep was there, it is true, stiff and stark in the bracken; but more senses than one apprised us ofthe fact that it had been dead for considerably more than five minutes. Gerald had stumbled on to the corpse, and had turned his discovery, weafterwards admitted, to remarkably good advantage. It was "Mr Standish'sturn, " as Miss Buncle, in the picturesque but mysterious vernacular ofher race, remarked at luncheon, "to hold the baby this time. "

After the third drive we gladly put up our guns and tramped down thehillside to the road below, where the ladies were waiting and the feastwas spread. After we had disposed of grouse sandwiches, whisky-and-water, and jammy scones, and were devoting our post-prandialleisure to repose or dalliance with the fair--according as we weremarried or single--Lady Rubislaw inquired--

"Where are you shooting this afternoon, John?"

"The Neb, first, " replied the Admiral. "And that reminds me, the man whodrew the top butt had better start now, or he'll be late. "

With many groans, and followed by the mingled derision and sympathy ofthe company, I picked up my _impedimenta_ and started, leaving theothers to decide who, if any, of the shooters was to have the honour ofentertaining a lady in his butt. 

The Neb was a great mountain spur, whose base ran to within two or threehundred yards of our resting-place. In appearance it roughly resembled amighty Napoleonic nose. The butts ran right up the ridge of that organ;and nine hundred feet above where we sat, just below an excrescencelocally known as "The Pimple, " lay mine. 

I reached my eyrie at last, and having laid my flask, tobacco-pouch, andtwelve loose cartridges where I could reach them most handily onprojecting shelves of peat inside the butt--I love neatness and method:Kitty says that when (if ever) I get to heaven I will decline to enteruntil I have wiped my boots, --settled down to enjoy a superb view andtake note of the not altogether uninteresting manner in which the othermembers of the party were disposing themselves for the drive. 

Just below me were Standish and Miss Buncle, the lady a conspicuous markfor all men (and grouse) to behold by reason of a red tam o'shanter, thesight of which made me regret that its wearer was not employed as abeater. In the butt below were Dermott and Dolly--both very workmanlikeand inconspicuous. Below them came the Admiral, with his wife (shealways came and sat behind him, like a remarkably smart littlepowder-monkey, during the afternoon drive): below them, the Gilmertons;and last of all, thank Heaven! Gerald. 

The shooting on this beat would not be easy, though birds were alwaysplentiful. They came round the face of the hill at very short range andexpress speed. My particular butt was notoriously difficult to scorefrom. There was an awkward hummock in front of it, and driven birdsswinging into view round this were practically right over the buttbefore its occupant could get his gun up. 

It was a rather sleepy afternoon. Far away I could hear the sound of theadvancing beaters--the cries of the boys, the occasional barking of adog, and the shrill piping of the headkeeper's whistle. Suddenly threebirds swung into view round the face of the hill, and made straight forthe line of butts. They were just below me, nearer to Standish's buttthan mine, but I put up my gun and picked off the nearest. The othertwo, instead of keeping on their course over Standish's head, suddenlyswerved round to the left, almost at right angles--I think they had seenMiss Buncle's tam o' shanter and simultaneously decided that there areworse things than death--and flew straight down the line, followed by anineffectual volley from the twelve and twenty-eight bores respectively. 

"Now, Dermott, my boy!" I ejaculated, as the birds skimmed past thethird butt. "There's a chance for a really pretty right and left. "

But no sound--no movement even--came from our crack's lair. The birdsflew by unharmed, only to fall later on, one to the Admiral, and one toyoung Gilmerton. 

"_Dormitat Homerus_, " I murmured, gazing curiously towards Dermott'sbutt. "I wonder if--Jove, there they go! What a pack! Well done, Gerald!Oh, Gilmerton, you old _sweep_! Fire, man, _fire_! Good old Admiral!Dermott, man, what the devil---- Have _at_ them!"

I fairly danced in the heather. A perfect cloud of birds was pouringover the lower part of the line. The Admiral, the Gilmertons, and Geraldwere firing fast and furiously, --even the laird of Nethercraigs loosedoff at birds that were neither running nor sitting, --and when thebeaters appeared in sight five minutes later, and the drive came to anend, the four lower butts totalled twelve brace among them. 

I humbly proffered my solitary contribution. 

"Twelve and a half, " said the Admiral. "Now, Standish?"

"N. E. This time, " remarked that youth philosophically. 

The Admiral said nothing, but I saw his choleric blue eyes slide roundin the direction of Miss Buncle's headgear. He turned to Dermott. 

"How many, old man?"

"Blob!"

That Dermott should return empty-handed from any kind of chase was sosurprising that we all turned round for the explanation. Dermott waslooking very dejected. This was evidently a blow to his professionalpride. 

"Didn't any of that great pack come near you?" asked the Admiralsympathetically. 

"No--don't think so, " said Dermott shortly. 

I had counted eight birds flying straight over his butt myself, but Isaid nothing. I was beginning to comprehend. _Et ego in Arcadia vixi_. 

But the obtuse master-mariner persisted. 

"How about that brace that flew right down the line? You must have seen'em coming all the way. You didn't even try a shot at them, man!"

Dermott, who was fastening up his gaiter, answered rather listlessly--

"Sorry! It was--a misfire, I think. "

"What?" cried the outraged Admiral. "A _misfire_? Both barrels--of bothguns?"

I did not hear the answer to this. I was looking at Dolly. Her facecould not be seen, for she was kneeling down a little distance away, assiduously fondling the silky ears of a highly-gratified red setter. And I realised then that some expressions are capable of a metaphoricalas well as a literal interpretation. 

IV. 

My wife and daughter returned home in the "machine" in time for dinner, without Robin. 

"His mother kept him, " Kitty explained. She was favouring me with asummary of her day's adventures, in the garden after dinner. "Such anold dear, Adrian! And his father is a grand old man. Very solemn andscriptural-looking and all that, but so courtly and simple when once hegets over his shyness. (He tried to come in to tea in his shirt-sleeves, but his wife hustled him out of the kitchen just in time. ) Sir JamesFordyce was a shock, though. When we arrived he was chopping turnips ina machine, dressed in clothes like any farm-labourer's. He said it wasfine to get back to his own people again. To look at him you would neverguess that he was one of the best known men in London, and a favouriteat Court, and _such_ an old dandy in Bond Street. The rest of thehousehold didn't seem to set any particular store by him. They took himquite as a matter of course. "

"What a pity English people can't do the same, " I mused. "If they dopossess a distinguished relative they brag about him, and he usuallyresponds by avoiding them. If he does honour them with a visit, they tryto live up to him, and put on unnecessary frills, and summon all theneighbourhood to come and inspect him. "

"There's nothing of that kind about the Fordyces, " said Kitty. "SirJames was just one of themselves; he even spoke like them. It was, 'Aye, Jeems!' and 'Aye, John!' all the time. "

"How about the rest of the family?" I inquired. 

"The mother was immensely pleased to have Robin with her again, I couldsee, " said Kitty. "She made no particular fuss over him, but I'm sureshe simply hugged him as soon as we were gone. She had a talk with meabout him when we were alone. She seems to regard him as the leastsuccessful member of the family, although he has been a good son tothem. (Do you know, Adrian, he has sent them something like two hundredpounds during the time he has been with us? And that must have left himlittle enough to go on with, goodness knows!) But I don't think theyconsider him a patch on the eldest son, who is a great silent man with abeard--a sort of Scotch John Ridd. He looks years older than Robin, though of course he isn't. He is a splendid farmer, his mother tells me, and greatly "respeckit" in the district. But the poor dear was sofrightened of me that he simply bolted from the house the moment he hadfinished his tea. The sister is pretty, and nice too, but shy. I'mafraid she found my clothes rather overpowering, though I'd only a coatand skirt on. But we got on splendidly after that. She is going to bemarried next month, to the minister, which is considered an immensetriumph for her by the whole community. We must send them a present. Bythe way, what's the matter with Dolly?"

"What's the matter with poor old Dermott?" I retorted. 

At this moment the much-enduring "machine" jingled up to the door, andCaptain Dermott's luggage, together with his gun-cases and a generousbundle of game for the mess-table at Aldershot, was piled in at theback. Their owner followed after, and seeing the glowing end of my cigarin the dark, advanced to say good-bye. 

Kitty uttered some pretty expression of regret at his departure, andflitted into the house. Dermott and I surveyed each other silentlythrough the darkness. 

"Is it any use asking you to come and look us up in town?" I said atlast rather lamely. 

He laughed through set teeth--not a pretty sound. 

"I think I'll--avoid your household for a bit, Adrian, " he answered. 

I nodded gravely. 

"I see, " I said. "I--I'm sorry, old man!"

"I'm going to India, if I can get away, " he continued, after a pause. 

"Good scheme!" I replied. "We shall think of you most kindly--er, _all_of us. "

He said nothing, but shook hands in a grateful sort of fashion, andturned away. 

I suppose there is a reason for everything in this world. Still, thespectacle of a good man fighting dumbly with a cruel disappointment--anddisappointment is perhaps the bitterest pill in all the pharmacopeia oflife--is certainly a severe test of one's convictions on the subject. 

At this moment the rest of the party--_minus_ Dolly--flowed out on tothe doorstep to say farewell; and two minutes later Captain Dermottdrove heavily away--back to his day's work. 

Well, thank God there is always that!

 * * * * *

"I thought she was going to take him, " said Kitty in her subsequentsumming-up. "It was far and away the best offer she has ever had. And heis such a dear, too! What does the child want, I wonder! A coronet?"

"'A dinner of herbs, ' perhaps, " said I. 

Kitty eyed me thoughtfully, and gave a wise little nod. 

"Yes--Dolly is just that sort, " she agreed. "But what makes you thinkthat?"

"Oh--nothing, " I said. 

There are certain matters upon which it is almost an impertinence for aman to offer an opinion to a woman, and I rather shrank from rushing inwhere my wife had evidently not thought it worth while to tread. Still, I could not help wondering in my heart whether the arrival of onegentleman on Sunday may not sometimes have something to do, howeverindirectly, with the abrupt departure of another gentleman on Monday. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

THE COMPLEAT ANGLER. 

The Division of Stoneleigh, which had hitherto done me the honour ofreturning me as its Member of Parliament, is a triangular tract ofcountry in the north of England. 

At the apex of the triangle lies Stoneleigh itself, a township whosechief assets are an ancient cathedral at one end, and a flourishingindustry, proclaiming to the heavens its dependence upon Hides andTallow, at the other. The base of the triangle runs along the sea-coast, and is dotted with fishing villages. Most of the intervening area isunder cultivation. 

It will be seen, then, that the character of my constituency varied in aperplexing manner, and while I could usually depend upon what I may callthe Turnip interest, I could not always count with absolute certainty onthe whole-hearted support of the Fish or Hides-and-Tallow. 

To this delectable microcosm my household and I migrated one bleak dayin February, to commence what promised to be an arduous and thoroughlyuncomfortable electoral campaign. 

The Government had gone out at last, more from inanition than over anydefinite question of policy; and we were going to the country to facewhat is paradoxically termed "the music. " It would be a General Electionin every sense of the word, for there was no particular question of thehour--this was before the days of Passive Resistance and TariffReform--and our chief bar to success would undoubtedly be our old andinveterate enemy, "the pendulum. " Of course we were distributingleaflets galore, and blazoning panegyrics on our own legislativeachievements over every hoarding in the country--especially where ouropponents had already posted up scathing denunciations of the same--andof course we declared that we were going to come again, like KingArthur; but I think most of us realised in our hearts that the greatBritish Public, having decided in its ponderous but not altogetherunreasonable way that any change of government must be for the better, was now going to pull us down from the eminence to which we had beenprecariously clinging for five years, and set up another row oflegislative Aunt Sallies in our stead. 

However, we were far from admitting this. We wore our favours, waved ourhats, and celebrated our approaching triumph with as great an appearanceof optimism as the loss of seven consecutive by-elections would permit. 

Our party--Kitty, Phillis, Dolly, and myself: Dilly and Dicky were tofollow, and Robin had preceded us by two days--was met at the station byan informal but influential little deputation, consisting of Mr Cash, myagent, a single-minded creature who would cheerfully have done his bestto get Mephistopheles returned as member if he had been officiallyappointed to further that gentleman's interests; old Colonel Vincey, whowould as cheerfully have voted for the same candidate provided he woreConservative colours; Mr Bugsley, a leading linen-draper and ex-Mayor ofthe town, vice-chairman of our local organisation; Mr Winch--locallyknown as Beery Bill--the accredited mouthpiece of the Stoneleigh liquorinterest; and the Dean, who came, I was uncharitable enough to suspecteven as he wrung my hand, on business not unconnected with theunfortunate deficit in the fund for the restoration of the NorthTransept. There were also present one or two reporters, and a _posse_ ofthe offscourings of Stoneleigh small-boydom. 

We drove in state to the hotel. Previous to this I shook hands warmlywith the Station-master, who scowled at me--he was a Home-Ruler and aBaptist--and gave four porters half-a-crown apiece for lifting ourluggage on to the roof of a cab. I also handed a newsboy sixpence for acopy of the local bi-weekly organ which supported our cause, andtendered half-a-sovereign in payment for a bunch of violets andprimroses--our party colours in this district were purple andgold--which were proffered me outside the station by an ancientflower-selling dame who, Cash hissed into my ear, happened to be themother of four strapping and fully-enfranchised sons; and presented anunwashed stranger who was holding open the cab door for us with a tokenof affection and esteem which could readily be commuted into severalhours' beer. 

On arriving at the hotel I handed the cabman a fare roughly equivalentto the cash value of the cab, and then proceeded to distribute largesseto a crowd of menials who kindly undertook the task of lifting theluggage from the roof and conveying it to our rooms. The horse, havingno vote, received no pecuniary return for its labours, but was rewardedfor its devotion to Conservative principles by a lump of sugar, whichPhillis had been tightly holding in a moist hand ever since Cash hadhanded it to her at the station--a pretty and thoughtful act ofdisinterested kindness which was duly noted in the _Stoneleigh Herald_next morning, and effectually secured the votes of several elusive butsentimental wobblers on polling day. 

After this unostentatious entry into my constituency I duly establishedmyself in my apartments, where I spent most of the afternoon writingcheques. The restoration of the North Transept proved to be in an evenmore deplorable state of backwardness than I had feared; but the Deanultimately left me with the utmost expressions of goodwill, promising toreassure the most exacting spirits in Cathedral society as to mysoundness on the questions of (1) Disestablishment and (2) SecularEducation in Elementary Schools. 

Thereafter I received the captain of the local football team, who beggedto remind me that my subscription of five guineas, as HonoraryVice-President of the club, was now due, and further requested that Iwould do himself and colleagues the honour of kicking-off in the matchagainst the Scrappington Hotstuffs on Saturday week. (Saturday next, Iheard afterwards, had been reserved for my rival. ) He finally departedwith my cheque in his pocket, and, I expect, his tongue in his cheek. 

Robin next let in upon me a sub-section of the General PurposesCommittee of the Municipal Library, who begged that I would kindlyconsent to open the new wing thereof, jointly with the rival Candidate, at three o'clock next Wednesday; and intimated as an afterthought thatthe oak bookcase in the eastern alcove was still unpaid for. Theydeparted calling down blessings upon my head. (Five pounds ten. )

Next, after a brief call from a gentleman in a blue ribbon, who came tosolicit a guinea for the Band of Hope, and who left in exchange onehundred copies of a picture of the interior of a drunkard's stomach, executed in three colours, came Beery Bill, to whom the reader hasalready been introduced. He had not come to talk Politics, he said, butjust to have a quiet chat with one whom he hoped he could regard as apersonal friend. (I got out my fountain pen. ) The chat materialisedpresently into an intimation that the Licensed Victuallers BenevolentSomething-or-Other was short of cash; and my visitor suggested that atrifle in support of the charities of that most deserving institutionwould come gracefully from my pocket. On handing me the receipt heinformed me that the brewing trade was in a bad way, and that he lookedto me to do something for it if he used his influence on my behalf atthe Election. 

The next visitor was an eccentric but harmless old gentleman who ekedout a precarious livelihood as a Herbalist--whatever that may be--in themost plebeian quarter of the town. He inhabited a small and stuffy shopup a discreet alley, suffered much from small boys, sold curious drugsand potions of his own composition, and prescribed for persons whosemeans or modesty precluded them from consulting an orthodoxpractitioner. 

He was threatened, it appeared, with the penalties of the law. He hadsold a "love-philtre" (pronounced infallible for recalling errant_fiancés_ to a sense of duty) to an amorous kitchen-maid who was seekingto rekindle the sacred flame in the bosom of an unresponsive policeman. The damozel had mingled the potion in a plate of beefsteak pudding, andhad handed the same out of the scullery window to her peripatetic swain;with the sole result that that limb of the law had been immediately andviolently sick, and, the moment he felt sufficiently recovered to do so, had declared the already debilitated match at an end. The kitchen-maid, rendered desperate, had told him the whole truth; and consequently myesteemed caller was now wanted by the police. 

The catastrophe of the pie, he explained, was in no way to be attributedto the love-philtre (which was composed of sifted sugar and cinnamon), but was due to the fact that instead of the philtre he had inadvertentlyhanded his fair client a packet out of the next drawer, which containedready-made-up doses of tartaric acid for immediate use in the case ofsmall boys who had swallowed sixpences. _Hinc lacrymcoe_. In spite ofhis complete consciousness of his own innocence, he now found himselfcompelled in a few days' time to defend his conduct in a court of law. The proceedings would cost money, of which he of course possessed littleor none. He had called, he said, confident in the hope that I wouldassist him to defray the expense of vindicating his integrity as ahigh-class Herbalist by purchasing six bottles of his world-renownedspecific for neuralgia, from which dread malady he had beeninformed--quite incorrectly, by the way--that I occasionally suffered. The thirty shillings thus subscribed, together with a few odd coinswhich he himself had contrived to scrape together during a long life ofthrift, would secure the services of a skilled advocate, who woulddoubtless be able to prove to the satisfaction of justice that nohigh-class Herbalist would ever dream, save in the way of kindness, ofputting tartaric acid into a policeman's beefsteak pudding. 

He added, rather inconsequently, that he had voted Conservative at thelast three elections, and had moreover persuaded all the other membersof the Royal and Ancient Brotherhood of High-class Herbalists to do thesame. (One pound ten. )

My last visitor was a seedy individual in corduroys, who asked for aprivate interview with the Candidate, and, on this favour being granted, informed me in a confidential and husky whisper that he knew of ten goodmen and true, fully qualified voters, who were prepared to go to thepoll on my behalf for the trifling fee of two pound ten a-head and noquestions asked. He was politely but firmly shown into the street. Onehas to be on the look-out against persons of this type. 

I concluded the afternoon by a rather unsatisfactory interview with MrCash. He was by nature a boisterous and optimistic person, but on thisoccasion I found him inclined to be reticent and gloomy. He announcedwith a shake of the head that my rival was a very strong candidate; andfinally, after a certain amount of pressing, admitted that I was notaltogether as universally acceptable to my own side as I might havebeen. 

"You are not violent enough, Mr Inglethwaite, " he said. "You sympathisetoo much with the point of view of the opposite side. That's fatal. "

I turned to Robin. 

"You hear that?" I said. "Don't you ever call me a prejudiced old Toryagain, Robin. "

"Then, " continued the dolorous Cash, "you are too squeamish. Thoseposters that you wouldn't allow to be put up--that was simply throwingaway good votes. Politics in this part of the country can't be playedwith kid gloves. Then there are the meetings. You don't let the otherside have it hot enough. Call 'em robbers and liars! That's what wins anelection!"

"I suppose it is, " I said mournfully. "Robin, we must put our opinionsin our pockets and beat the party drum. Come on, let us go to theCommittee Rooms!"

For the next fortnight we worked like galley-slaves. Each morning Kittyand I drove round the town in an open carriage-and-pair decorated withour colours, bowing to such of our constituents as would look at us, andpunctiliously returning any salutes we received. Occasionallywhole-hearted supporters would give us a cheer, and occasionally--rathermore frequently, it seemed to me--disagreeable persons booed at us. Oncewe were held up outside a hide-and-tallow work by a gang of workmen whowished to address a few questions to the Candidate. We came well out ofthat ordeal, for both Kitty and Dolly happened to be in the carriagethat day, and they so completely captivated the spokesman of thedeputation--no wonder! a pretty woman never looks so attractive as infurs--that that gentleman concluded a catechism of unpremeditatedbrevity and incoherence by proposing a vote of confidence in, coupledwith three cheers for, Mr Inglethwaite and his young ladies!

On another occasion a gnarled and fervent Radical of the bootmakingpersuasion hobbled to the door of his establishment, and waving clenchedand uplifted fists, called down upon us and our retreating equipage allthe curses at the command of a rather extensive vocabulary until we wereout of earshot. 

Occasionally little girls threw posies into the carriage: little boys, not to be outdone in politeness, threw stones: and altogether I feltvery much as the Honourable Samuel Slumkey must have done upon thehistoric occasion on which he solicited the votes of the electors of theborough of Eatanswill. 

Talking of Eatanswill, I had already made the acquaintance of Mr HoratioFizkin in the person of my opponent, Mr Alderman Stridge, WholesaleProvision Merchant and Italian Warehouseman. His selection as LiberalCandidate was a blow to us: we had hoped for nothing worse than abriefless carpet-bagger from the Temple, as on previous occasions. However, the Alderman on our introduction was extremely affable, andexpressed a hope, with the air of one discovering the sentiment for thefirst time, that the best man might win; to which I, as in duty bound, replied that I hoped not; and we parted with mutual expressions ofgoodwill and esteem, to deride each other's politics and bespatter eachother's characters on countless platforms and doorsteps until we shouldmeet again, after the fray, at the counting of the votes. 

On returning from our morning drive (which usually included an open-airmeeting) we took luncheon, generally in the presence of various anæmicyoung men who represented local organs of public opinion, and whoexpected the long-suffering candidate to set forth his views betweenmouthfuls of chop and sips of sherry. I usually turned these over toRobin, who understood their ways; and he charmed them so wisely thateven the relentless Cash was compelled to admit that our press noticesmight have been worse. 

Robin was a tower of strength. Indeed he and Dolly were my two chieflieutenants; Dilly and Dicky, as became a pair who had only been marrieda few months, proving but broken reeds. A week's electioneering provedsufficient for their requirements; and, declining flatly to "grin like adog and run about the city"--Dilly's pithy summary of the art ofcanvassing--any longer, they left us ten days before polling-day to paya country-house visit. But Robin was everywhere. He answered my lettersand he interviewed reporters. He could keep a meeting in hand (pendingmy arrival from another) with such success that when I finally appearedupon the platform to take up the wondrous tale of my party'sperfections, the audience were loth to let Robin go. In six days heacquired a knowledge of the wants, peculiarities, weaknesses, andtraditions of my constituents which had occupied all my powers ofconcentration and absorption for six arduous years. He used to drop intohis speeches little topical allusions and local "gags" which, thoughGreek to the uninitiated, never failed to produce a roar: and apolitical speaker who can unfailingly make his audience laugh withhim--not at him--has gone far on the road to success. 

Once, at a meeting, when I was half-way through a speech to anunmistakably bored and rather hostile audience, Robin, who was sittingbeside me, slipped a sheet of paper on to my table. The message on thepaper, written large for me to read, said--_Compare Stridge to the OldLady of Dippleton_. What the lady had done I did not know, neither had Itime to inquire; but I took my secretary's advice, and, after pausingfor a brief drink of water, concluded my sentence--

"--and I maintain, gentlemen, that my opponent, in advocating such apolicy as that which he has had the--the--yes, the _effrontery_ to laybefore a clear-thinking and broad-minded Stoneleigh audience last night, has shown himself to be no wiser in his generation, no better or morestatesmanlike in character, than--than--what shall we say? than"--Iglanced at the paper on the table--"the Old Lady of Dippleton!"

There was a great roar of laughter, and I sat down. I was ultimatelyawarded a vote of thanks, which should by rights have been given to theheroine of my closing allusion. I may mention here that no subsequentinquiry of mine ever elicited from Robin or any one else what the OldLady of Dippleton _had_ done. Probably it was one of those things thatno real lady ever ought to do, and I discreetly left it at that. 

Dolly, too, proved a treasure. Her strong line was canvassing. She couldingratiate herself with short-tempered and over-driven wives apparentlywithout effort; surly husbands melted before her smile; sheepish youngmen forgot the encumbering existence of their hands and feet in herpresence; and she was absolutely infallible with babies. Her methodswere entirely her own, and gratifyingly free from the superior andpatronising airs usually adopted by fine ladies when they go to solicitthe votes of that variegated and much-graded community which theycheerfully and indiscriminately sum up as "the lower classes. "

Let us follow her as she flits on her way to pay a morning call upon MrNoah Gulching of Jackson's Row. 

Mr Gulching, she finds, is absent in search of a job, while MrsGulching, thoroughly cross and worried, is doing the housework with onehand and dangling a fractious teething baby from the other. The rest ofthe family are engaged in playing games of skill and chance (on the win, tie, or wrangle principle), in the middle of the street outside; andpiercing screams testify to the fact that John William Gulching, agedtwo, had just been uprooted by Mary Kate Gulching, who wants to lay outa new Hop-Scotch court, from the flagstone upon which he has been seatedfor the last half hour and dumped down upon another, the warming ofwhich, even his untutored sensations inform him, will be a matter ofsome time and trouble. 

Dolly, not a whit dismayed by a thoroughly ungracious reception, tucksup her skirt, rolls up her sleeves, finishes washing-up, makes a bed, and peels some potatoes. Then she takes the baby and attends to its moreconspicuous wants, what time Mrs Gulching, thoroughly mollified, --shehad thought at first that Dolly was "a person with tracks, "--goes roundthe corner to the "Drop Inn, " at which hostelry the work of which herspouse is habitually in pursuit invariably goes to ground, and bringsthat gentleman home with her, to find Dolly playing with a spotlessinfant whom she gradually recognises as her own offspring. 

Dolly begins at once. 

"Good morning, Mr Gulching! I expect you think I am one of those horridcanvassers. "

Mr Gulching, a little taken aback, admits that such was his impression. 

"Well, I'm not, " says Dolly. (_Oh, Dolly!_) "I suppose there may be someexcuse for canvassing among people who do not take much interest inpolitics, --though _I_ shouldn't like to do it, --but it would be rather awaste of time for me or any one else to come and try on that sort ofthing with _you_, wouldn't it, Mr Gulching?"

Mr Gulching, outwardly frigid but inwardly liquescent, agrees that thisis so; and adds in a truculent growl that he would like to see 'em tryit on. 

"What I really want, " continues Dolly, "is your _advice_. I am told thatyou are so respected here, and have such a knowledge of the requirementsof the neighbourhood, that you might be inclined to give us a littlehelp in a scheme which Mr Inglethwaite has in hand. Schemes for theimprovement of some of the houses--not snug little cribs like this, butthe homes of people who are not so clever and able to take care ofthemselves as you--and the supplying of more amusements in the evenings;entertainments, lectures----"

"Teetotal?" inquires Mr Gulching hoarsely. 

"Oh dear, no. I am sure Mr Inglethwaite would not wish to deprive anyone of his glass of beer. He quite agrees with your views about moderatedrinking. " (This, I may mention, is a slanderous libel on me, but itsounds all right as Dolly says it. ) "But he knows that the success ofhis efforts will depend entirely upon whether he has the support of suchmen as yourself--men who know what they want and will see that they getit. We can't do without you, you see, " she adds, with a bewitchinglittle smile. 

Visible swelling on the part of Mr Gulching. Dolly gets up. 

"Well, I know you are a busy man, Mr Gulching, so I mustn't keep youlistening to a woman's chatter any more. I'm afraid I haven't explainedthings very deeply, but then you men are such creatures for wanting toget to the root of the matter, aren't they, Mrs Gulching? However, MrInglethwaite will call shortly and discuss things with you. I know hewants your advice. Meanwhile, perhaps you will mention the matter to anyfriends of yours whom you think would be likely to help us, won't you?Good morning, and thank you so much for granting me this--er--interview. An Englishman's house is his castle, isn't it? That is why it was sogood of you to let me come in. Good-bye, Mrs Gulching. He's a perfectlysweet little chap, and I must come and see him again, if I may. " (Thelast remark is a little ambiguous, but probably refers to the baby. )

And Dolly, with a friendly nod to the rest of the family (who are bythis time drawn up _en échelon_ at the street door, under the personaldirection of Violet Amelia Gulching), sails out, followed by a gratifiedleer from the greatly inflated Mr Gulching, having secured that free andindependent elector's vote without even having asked for it. And yetsome women are crying out for the right to control elections!

At the street corner, with a persuasive finger in the buttonhole of anunconvinced Socialist (and a vigilant eye straining down the long andunlovely vista of Jackson's Row), Dolly usually encounters RobertChalmers Fordyce. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

A HOSTAGE TO FORTUNE. 

Nomination day came, and I was duly entered by my proprietors for theElection Stakes, though I was painfully aware that my selection asCandidate was not universally popular. 

However, as Cash remarked, "It is canvassing from door to door that doesthe trick, and there you have the bulge on Stridge. He's not a bad oldbuffer himself, but they hate his wife like poison. She drives up totheir doors in a silver-plated brougham with a double-breasted coachman, and tells 'em to vote for Stridge, not because he used to live in aone-roomed house himself--which he did, and her too--but because he's alocal god-on-wheels. Of course they won't stick that. "

I also continued to address meetings, receive deputations, and generallysolicit patronage in a way that would have made a cab-tout blush forshame. As a recreation I kicked off at football matches and laidfoundation-stones. The most important function in which I took part wasthe opening of the new wing of the Municipal Library. The ceremony, which was by way of being a non-party affair, took place on a blusteringFebruary afternoon. The _élite_ of Stoneleigh were picturesquely groupedupon the steps of the main entrance of the Library, from the topmost ofwhich the Mayor, the Dean, and the Candidates addressed a shivering andapathetic audience below. 

Fortunately, the company were too exclusively occupied in holding ontheir hats and blowing their blue noses to pay much attention to theimproving harangues of Mr Stridge and myself; which was perhaps just aswell, for men who have three or four highly critical and possiblyhostile meetings to address later in the day are not likely to wastegood things upon an assembly who probably cannot hear them, and willonly say "Hear, hear!" in sepulchral tones if they do. 

The actual opening of the wing was accomplished quite informally (and Imay say unexpectedly) by Kitty and Mrs Stridge--a fearsome matron, wholooked like a sort of Nonconformist Boadicea--who were huddling togetherfor warmth in the recess of the doorway. On a pedestal before them laytwo small gold keys, with which they were presently to unlock the dooritself, what time I, in trumpet tones, declared the Library open. Whether through natural modesty or a desire to escape the assaults ofthe wind, the two ladies shrank back so closely into the door that thataccommodating portal, evidently deeming it ungallant to wait even for agolden key under such circumstances, incontinently flew open, andMesdames Inglethwaite and Stridge subsided gracefully into the arms of aspectacled and embarrassed Librarian, who was formally waiting inside toreceive the company at the proper moment. 

After that, the proceedings, which so far had been almost as bleak asthe weather, went with a roar to the finish. 

But events like these were mere oases in a desert of ceaseless drudgery. The fight grew sterner and stiffer, and, as always happens on theseoccasions, the neutral and the apathetic began to bestir themselves andtake sides. A week before the election there was not an impartial orunbiassed person left in Stoneleigh. Collisions between supporters ofeither party became frequent and serious. On the first occasion, when aConservative sought to punctuate an argument by discharging a smallgin-and-ginger into the face of his Liberal opponent, and the Liberalretaliated by felling the Conservative to the earth with a pint-pot, Stridge and I wrote quite effusively to one another apologising for theexuberance of our friends. A week later, when certain upholders of mycause bombarded Stridge's emporium with an assortment of Stridge's owneggs, hitting one of Mr Stridge's white-jacketed assistants in the eye, and severely damaging the frontage of Mr Stridge's Italianwarehouse--whereupon local and immediate supporters of the cause ofStridge squared matters by putting three bombardiers into ahorse-trough--Mr Stridge and I expressed no sort of regret to oneanother whatsoever, but referred scathingly, amid rapturous cheers, atour next meetings to the blackguardly policy of intimidation andhooliganism by which the other side found it necessary to bolster up abarren cause and hopeless future; all of which shows that things weretuning up to concert pitch. 

Results of other elections were coming in every day, and they were notby any means favourable to our side. Still, we kept on smiling, andtalked largely about the swing of the pendulum--almost as useful aphrase as "Mesopotamia" of blessed memory--and other phenomena ofreaction, and hoped for the best. Champion, who had been returned forhis constituency by a thumping majority, had promised to come down andspeak for me at a great meeting two nights before the election; andDubberley, who had lost his seat, threatened to come and help me to losemine. 

With the exception of Robin, who appeared to be made of some material_ære perennius_, we were all getting the least bit "tucked up, " from myhumble self down to Phillis, who appeared at breakfast one morninglooking flushed and rather too bright-eyed. 

"Electioneering seems to be telling on you, old lady, " I remarked. "Feeling quite well--eh?"

"Just a _teeny_ headache, daddy. But"--hastily--"I can come with you tothe meeting in the theatre to-morrow night, can't I? it will be suchfun!"

"Meeting? My little girl, it does not begin till an hour after yourbed-time. "

"That's why I want to go, " said my daughter frankly. "Besides, I do_love_ pantomimes--especially the clowns!" She wriggled ecstatically. 

Even the revelation of the plain truth--that the pantomime would becalled by another name and the clowns would appear in mufti--failed toassuage Phillis's thirst for the dramatic sensation promised by ameeting in a theatre. I was, as usual, wax in her small hands; and, man-like, I threw the _onus negandi_ upon Eve's shoulders. 

"Ask your mother, " I said; and flew to my day's work. 

Thank goodness, it was almost the last. To-morrow would be the eve ofthe poll, and at night we were to hold our monster meeting. Threethousand people would be present; a local magnate, Sir Thomas Wurzel (ofHeycocks), would occupy the chair; what one of our local reportersinsisted on calling "the _élite_ of the _bon ton_" would be ranged uponthe platform; and the meeting would be addressed by John Champion, Robin, --they always wanted him now, --and the much-enduring Candidate. The audience would, further, be made the recipients of a few remarksfrom the Chair and (unless something providential happened) fromDubberley, who was to second a vote of thanks to somebody--a performancewhich might take anything up to fifty minutes. Altogether a feast oforatory, and a further proof, if any were needed, that the English are ahardy race. 

Phillis was decidedly unwell next morning, and Kitty prescribed bed. Iam inclined to be an anxious parent, but there was little time for theexercise of any natural instincts on this occasion. Hounded on by therelentless Cash, I spent the day in a final house-to-house canvass, being fortunate enough to find at home several gentlemen who had beenout on previous occasions, and who now graciously permitted Kitty topresent them with a resplendent portrait of what at first sight appearedto be a hairdresser's assistant in gala costume, but which an obtrusiveinscription below proclaimed to be "Inglethwaite! The Man You Know, andWho Knows You!"

After a hasty round of the Committee Rooms I returned to our hostelry, the Cathedral Arms, where, after disposing of two reporters who wantedan advance copy of my evening's speech, and having effusively thanked apompous individual for a sheaf of statistics on a subject which I cannotrecall, but in which no one outside an asylum could have reasonably beenexpected to take any interest whatever, and which I was at liberty toquote (with due acknowledgments) to any extent I pleased, I sat downwith Champion and Robin, faint yet pursuing, to fortify myself withroast-beef and whisky for the labours of the evening. 

Presently Kitty entered, with Dolly. 

"_Who_ do you think has just arrived?" she said. 

"I don't know. Not a deputation, I hope!"

"No. Gerald--from school. "

"Great Scott! Expelled?"

"Oh no. It's his half-term _exeat_. I had forgotten all about it. As itjust falls in with the Election, he has come to see you through, hesays. "

"Right! Give him some food and a bed, and we'll send him round with oneof the brakes to-morrow, to bring people up to the poll. He has a gentlecompelling way about him that should be useful to us. Has he brought hisinarticulate friend?"

"Yes. "

"Well, tell them to ask at the office for bedrooms. "

"They have done that already, " said Dolly. "They are down in the kitchennow, ordering dinner. They don't propose to go to the meeting. 'Betterfun outside, ' they say. "

"Lucky little devils!" remarked the Candidate, with feeling. 

"And, Adrian, " said Kitty, "I don't think I'll come either. I'm ratherbothered about Philly. "

I laid down my knife and fork. 

"What do you mean? Is she really ill?"

"N-no. I don't think so, but she is very feverish and wretched, poorkiddy. I tried to get hold of Dr Martin this afternoon, but he was milesaway on an urgent case, and won't be back till to-morrow. But I got DrFarquharson----"

"Roaring Radical!" said I in horror-struck tones. 

--"Yes, dear, but such a nice old thing; and Scotch too, Robin----"

"Aberdonian, " said Robin dubiously. 

"Well, " continued my wife, "he said she would need care, and must stayin bed. He was in a tearing hurry, as he had to go on to one ofStridge's meetings--horrid creature!--but he promised to come again onhis way home. Do you think it very important that I should come withyou?"

I turned to my secretary. 

"What's your opinion, Robin?"

"I think Mrs Inglethwaite should come. They like to see her on theplatform, I know. "

"If the Candidate's wife does not appear, people say she is too grandfor them, " put in Champion. 

"I'll stay with Philly, Kit, " said Dolly. 

"Will you? You dear! But I know you want to come yourself. "

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. "

And so it was arranged. 

We found the theatre packed to suffocation. A heated band of musicians(whose degrees must have been conferred _honoris causa_) had justconcluded a set of airs whose sole excuse for existence was theirpatriotic character, and Sir Thomas Wurzel (of Heycocks) was rising tohis feet, when our party appeared on the platform. Election fever wasrunning high by this time; the critical spirit was almost entirelyobliterated by a truly human desire to cut the preliminaries and hitsomebody in the eye; and we were greeted with deafening cheers. 

Presently Champion was introduced and called upon to speak. He waspersonally unknown to the crowd before him, although his name wasfamiliar to them. But in five minutes he had the entire audience in hisgrip. He made them laugh, and he made them cheer; he made them breathehard, and he made them chuckle. There were moments when the vast throngsat in death-like silence, while Champion, with his voice dropped almostto a whisper, cajoled them as a woman cajoles a man. Then suddenly hewould blare out another battle-call, and provoke a great storm ofcheering. He made little use of gesture--occasionally he punctuated aremark with an impressive forefinger, but he had the most wonderfulvoice I have ever heard. I sat and watched him with whole-heartedadmiration. It is true that he was not doing our cause any particulargood. He had forgotten that he was there to make a party speech, todecry his opponents, and crack up his friends. He was soaring away intoother regions, and--most wonderful of all--he was taking his audiencewith him. He besought them to be men, to play the game, to thinkstraight, to awaken to a sense of responsibility, and to remember themagnitude and responsibility of their task as controllers of an Empire. He breathed into them for a moment a portion of his own great spirit;and many a small tradesman and dull-souled artisan realised that night, for the first (and possibly the last) time, that the summit of theUniverse is not composed of hides and tallow, and that there are higherthings than the loaves and fishes of party politics and the pettytriumphs of a contested election. 

From a strictly tactical point of view all this was useless, andtherefore dangerous. But for a brief twenty minutes we were gods, Utopians, Olympians, joyously planning out a scheme of things as theyshould be, to the entire oblivion of things as they are. That is alwaysworth something. 

Then he sat down, and we came to earth again with a bump, recollectingguiltily the cause for which we were assembled and met together--namely, the overwhelming of an Italian warehouseman and the retention of aparliamentary seat in an unimportant provincial district. 

Once only have I heard that speech bettered, and that was in the Houseof Commons on a night in June fifteen years later, when a Prime Ministerstarted up from the Treasury Bench to defend a colleague whoseBill--since recognised as one of the most statesmanlike measures of ourgeneration--was being submitted to the narrowest and meanest canons ofparty criticism. It was another appeal for fair-play, unbiassedjudgment, and breadth of view, and it took a hostile and captious House, Government and Opposition alike, by storm. The name of the PrimeMinister on that occasion was John Champion, and the colleague whom hedefended was Robert Chalmers Fordyce. 

After Champion had sat down--nominally his speech was a vote ofconfidence in my unworthy self--Robin rose to second the motion. I didnot envy him his task. It is an ungrateful business at the best, firingoff squibs directly after a shower of meteors. Even a second shower ofmeteors would be rather a failure under the circumstances. Robinrealised this. He put something into his pocket and told his audience acouple of stories--dry, pawky, Scottish yarns--which he admitted werenot new, not true, and not particularly relevant. The first was ascurrilous anecdote concerning a man from Paisley, --which illustrioustownship, by the way, appears to be the target of practically allScottish humour, --and the other treated of a Highland minister who wasdelivering to a long-suffering congregation a discourse upon the MinorProphets. Robin told us how the preacher worked through Obadiah, Ezekiel, Nahum, Malachi, "and many others whose names are doubtlessequally familiar to you, gentlemen, " he added amid chuckles, "placingthem in a kind of ecclesiastical order of merit as he proceeded; andfinally he came to Habakkuk. 

"'What place, my friends, what place will we assign to Habakkuk?' heroared. 

"That, gentlemen, " said Robin, "proved to be the last straw. A man roseup under the gallery. 

"'Ye can pit him doon here in my seat, ' he roared. 'I'm awa' hame!'

"Gentlemen, " added Robin, as the shout of laughter subsided, "I fearthat one of you will be for offering _his_ seat to Habakkuk if I go onany longer, so I will just second the motion and sit down. "

After that I rose to my weary feet and offered my contribution. I haveno intention of giving a _précis_ of my speech here. It was exactly thesame as all the speeches ever delivered on such occasions. Thucydidescould have written it down word for word without ever having heard medeliver it. It was not in the least a good speech, but it was the sortof speech they expected, and, better still, it was the sort of speechthey wanted. Everybody was too excited to be critical, and I sat down, perspiring and thankful, amid enthusiasm. 

Then came the most trying ordeal of all--questions. 

I am no hand at repartee; but practice had sharpened my facultiesin this direction, and I had, moreover, become fairly conversantwith the type of query to which the seeker after knowledge on theseoccasions usually confines himself. The great secret is to bear inmind the fact that what people want in one's reply is not accurateinformation--unless, of course, you are standing for a Scottishconstituency, and then Heaven help you!--but something smart. If you cananswer the question, do so; but in any case answer it in such a way asto make the questioner feel small. Then you will have your audience withyou. 

To prevent unseemly shouting (and, _entre nous_, to give the Candidate alittle more time to polish up his impromptus), the questions were handedup on slips of paper and read aloud, and answered _seriatim_. They weresorted and arranged for me by Robin, and I not infrequently found, amongthe various slips, a question usually coming directly after a regularposer, in Robin's handwriting, with a brilliant and telling replythoughtfully appended. 

This evening as usual Robin collected the slips from the stewards, andultimately laid them on the table before me. I rose, and started on theheap. The first was a typewritten document which had been handed up by athoughtful-looking gentleman in the front row. It contained a singleline--

_Are you a Liberal or a Conservative?_

This was a trifle hard, I thought, coming directly after my speech; butfortunately the audience considered it merely funny, and roared when Iremarked pathetically, "This gentleman is evidently deaf. "

Then came the question--

_Are you in favour of Woman's Suffrage?_

This was no novelty, and was fortunately regarded by the gallantelectors present as a form of comic relief. I adopted my usual planunder the circumstances, and said--

"I am in favour, sir, of giving a woman whatever she wants. It is alwayswell to make a virtue of necessity. "

This homely and non-committal gibe satisfied most of the audience, and Iwas about to proceed to the next question when my interlocutor, alitigious-looking man with blue spectacles, rose in the circle andcried--

"You are evading the question, sir! Give me an answer. Are you in favourof Woman's Suffrage or not?"

"That's fair! Give him his answer!" came the cry from the fickleaudience. 

I was quite prepared for this. I went through an oft-rehearsed and notuneffective piece of pantomime with Kitty, and replied--

"Well, sir, I have just inquired of my wife, who is by my side----"

I paused expectantly. I was not disappointed. There were loud cheers, during which I seized the opportunity to glance through the next fewquestions. Then, as I was not quite ready--

"--As she has _always_ been, all through this arduous campaign----"

_Terrific enthusiasm, while Kitty blushes and bows very prettily; afterwhich the conversation proceeds on the following lines:_--

_Myself_. And she tells me that she does not want any Suffrage of anykind whatsoever!

_"Hear, hear!" But some cries of disapproval. _

_Myself_. I therefore recommend you, sir, to go home and follow myexample----

_(Perfect tornado of laughter. Apparently I have made a home-thrust. )_

--And after that, if you will come back to me and report the result ofyour--er--investigations--(_yells_)--I shall be happy to go into thematter with you more fully. 

_Triumphant cheers, and the blue-spectacled man collapses. _

The unfortunate espouser of the cause of the fair having thus beenderided out of court, I took up the next question. It concerned along-standing dispute as to the rights of the clergy of variousdenominations to enter the local Board Schools, --this was in the daysfar preceding the present educational deadlock, --and I felt that I mustwalk warily. I talked at large about liberty of conscience and religioustoleration, but realised as I rambled on that my moderate views and wantof bigotry in one direction or the other were pleasing no one. John Bullis a curious creature. You may get drunk and beat your wife, and he willtolerate you; you may run amok through most of the Decalogue, and hewill still be your friend; but venture to worship your Maker in afashion which differs one tittle from his own, and he will put down hispint-pot or desist from sanding the sugar and fell you to the earth. Iwas glad to get away from this subject, leaving the audience far fromsatisfied, and turn to the next question. It said--

_Is the Candidate aware that the important township of Spratling isentirely without a pier or jetty of any description?_

"Certainly I am aware of it, " I replied, trying hard to remember wherethe place was. The audience began to titter, and I felt uneasy. 

My questioner, a saturnine gentleman in the pit, rose to his feet andcontinued--

"And if returned to Parliament, will you exert your influence to seethat a jetty is constructed there at the earliest opportunity?"

"Cer----" There was a very slight movement beside me. Robin was leaningback unconcernedly in his chair, but on the table under my nose lay asheet of paper bearing these words in large printed capitals--

SPRATLING IS TEN MILES FROM THE SEA!

It had been a near thing. 

"Certainly, " I continued. "On one condition only, " I added at the top ofmy voice, above the rising tide of mocking laughter, --"on condition thatyou, sir, will personally guarantee a continuous and efficient serviceof fast steamers between Spratling and--the sea-coast!"

It was not a brilliant effort. I think I could have made more of it if Ihad had more time. But it served. How they laughed!

But there were breakers ahead. The next question asked if I was infavour of compulsory land purchase and small holdings. Of course I wasnot; but if I said so I knew I should rouse a dangerous storm, for thecommunity were much bitten at the time with the "Vine and Fig-treeFetish, " as some one had happily described it. If, on the other hand, Isaid Yes, I should, besides telling a lie, --though, as Cash onceremarked to me, "You can't strain at gnats on polling-day, "--becommitting myself to a scheme, which I knew Stridge had been stronglyurging, for dividing up some of the estate of the Lord of the Manor, theEarl of Carbolton (whom I knew personally for one of the wisest and mostconsiderate landlords in the country) into allotments for the benefit ofan industrial population who probably thought that turnips grew ontrees. It would have been easy to make some easily broken promise, but Ihave my poor pride, and I never offer the most academic blessing to ameasure that I am not prepared to go into a Lobby for. I wanted time tothink. Perhaps Robin would slip something on to the table. I accordinglyplayed my usual card, and said--

"Now this, gentleman, is an important question, and I am very glad ithas been asked. " (Oh, Adrian, my _boy_!) "And when I am faced with sucha question, I always ask myself, 'What, under the circumstances, wouldbe the course of action of--our great leader?'"

The device succeeded, and the theatre resounded with frenzied cheers. Iturned to Robin. He was not there. 

I swung round in Kitty's direction. She had left her chair, and washurriedly making her way through the group of important nobodies behindme in the direction of the wings. Robin was there already, in earnestconversation with a girl. 

It was Dolly. 

Phillis?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

"TO DIE--WILL BE AN _AWFULLY_ BIG ADVENTURE!"

--_Peter Pan_. 

Two minutes later we were driving back to the Cathedral Arms. It wassnowing heavily, but I never noticed the fact. Neither did I realisethat I had abandoned my post at a critical and dangerous moment, andleft my friends on the platform to explain to a puzzled and angryaudience why the Candidate had run away without answering theirquestions. But there are deeper things than politics. 

Phillis, we learned from Dolly, had been attacked by violent pains earlyin the evening; and about nine o'clock there had been a sudden rise oftemperature, with slight delirium, followed by a complete and alarmingcollapse. Dr Farquharson had been sent for, hot-foot, from Stridge'splatform, and his first proceeding had been to summon me from mine. 

He was waiting for us in the hall of the hotel when we arrived, andKitty and I took him into our sitting-room and, parent-like, begged tobe told "the worst. "

The doctor--a dour and deliberate Scot--declined to be positive, but"doubted" it might be perityphlitis. "Appendicitis is a more fashionableterm, " he added. The child had rallied, but was very ill, and nothingmore could be done at present except keep her warm and afford relief bymeans of poultices and fomentations until the malady should take adefinite turn for the better or the worse. 

"In either case we shall know what to do then, " he said; "but for thepresent the bairn must just fight her own battle. Has she good health, as a rule?"

Yes, thank God! she had. Physically she was frail enough, but shepossessed a tough little constitution. After I had taken a peep into theroom where the poor child, a vision of tumbled hair and wide brighteyes, lay moaning and tossing, I left Kitty and Dolly and the doctor todo what they could for her, and went downstairs to take counsel with myfriends. 

Now that the first shock was past, my head was clear again, and mycourse lay plain before me. Downstairs I found Robin, Champion, and Cashsilently taking supper. 

"Now, gentlemen, " I said, when I had answered Robin's anxiousinquiries--I believe he loved the child almost as much as I did--"thismisfortune has come at a bad time; but one thing is quite plain, andthat is that I must go through with the election. I quite see that I amnot my own master at present. "

Cash looked immensely relieved. Evidently he had been afraid that Iwould throw up the sponge. Robin and Champion nodded a grave assent, andthe latter said--

"You are right, Adrian. It's the only thing to do. "

"That's true, " said Cash. "I am sure you have our deepest sympathy, MrInglethwaite, but we can't possibly let you off on any account. "

It was not a very happy way of putting it, but Cash was an electionagent first and a man afterwards. 

"It was bad enough your running away from the meeting to-night, " hecontinued, in tones which he tried vainly to keep from soundingreproachful. "They'd have torn the benches up if Mr Fordyce hadn't let'em have it straight. I'm afraid it will cost us votes to-morrow. "

All this grated a good deal. I could hear Robin begin to breathe throughhis nose, and I knew that sign. I broke in--

"What did you say to them, Robin?"

"Say? I don't really know. I assured them that you must have some goodreason for leaving in such a hurry, and persuaded them to keep quiet fora bit in case you came back. We put up a few more speakers, but thepeople got more and more out of hand; and finally, after about fiveminutes of Dubberley, they grew so riotous that we ended the meeting. "

"They had every excuse, " said I. "They considered themselves defrauded. "

"So they were, " said Cash. 

"Of course, if they had _known_, " said Champion, "they would have gonehome like lambs. "

"Somehow, " said Robin, "I wish they could have been told, Adrian. Ishould have liked fine to explain to them that you didn't leave themeeting just because you couldn't answer that last question. "

"By gum!" Cash had been striving to deliver himself for some time. "MrInglethwaite, " he said excitedly, "they must be told at once! We can getmore good out of your little girl's illness than fifty meetings would dous. You know what the British public are! I'll circulate the real reasonof your departure from the meeting first thing to-morrow morning, andhalf the wobblers in the place will vote for you out of sheerkind-heartedness. I know 'em!"

The exemplary creature almost smacked his lips. 

There was a tense silence all round the table. Then I said, with someheat--

"Mr Cash, I have delivered myself into your hands, body and soul, eversince Nomination Day, and I have obeyed you to the letter all throughthis campaign. But--I am not going to allow a sick child's sufferings tobe employed as a political asset to-morrow. "

There was a sympathetic growl from the other two. 

"Oh, we shouldn't do it as publicly as all that, " said the unabashedCash. "Trust me! No ostentation; just an explanatory report circulatedin a subdued sort of way--and perhaps a strip of tan-bark down on theroad outside the hotel--eh? _I_ know how to do it. It'll pay, I tellyou. And there'll be no publicity----"

I laid my head upon the table and groaned. For three weeks I had hadperhaps four hours' sleep a-night, and I had been worked down to my lastreserve of energy, keeping in hand just enough to meet all the probablecontingencies of to-morrow's election. Dialectics with Cash as to themarket value of a little girl's illness had not been included in theestimate. I groaned. 

Champion answered for me. 

"Mr Cash, don't you see how painful these proposals are to MrInglethwaite? Put such ideas out of your head once and for all. No manworthy of the name would accept votes won in such a way. "

There was a confirmatory rumble from Robin. 

"We can't have _ad misericordiam_ appeals here, Mr Cash, " he said. 

Champion continued briskly--

"Now, Mr Cash, we will get Mr Inglethwaite a drink and send him to bed. He has not had a decent night's rest for a fortnight. We trust to younot to talk of the child's illness to anybody, --that is the _only_ wayto avoid making capital of it, --and if you will call here to-morrowafter breakfast I will guarantee that your Candidate will be fit andready to go round the polling-booths with you, and"--he put his hand onmy shoulder--"set an example to all of us. "

Cash, completely pulverised, departed as bidden, desolated over thisrenunciation of eleemosynary votes; and Robin, Champion, and I finishedour supper in peace, --if one can call it peace when there is no peace. 

Champion was leaving by the night mail, for he had promised to address ameeting two hundred miles away next day. His cab was already at thedoor, and we said good-bye to him on the hotel steps. 

He shook hands with me in silence, and turned to Robin. 

"Three fingers, and not too much soda, and then put him straight tobed, " he commanded. 

Then he turned to me again. 

"Don't sit up and worry, old man, " he said. "Go to bed, anyhow. Thedoctor and your womenfolk will do all that can be done. Your dutiescommence to-morrow. Keep your tail up, and face it out. _Noblesseoblige_, you know. Good-night. "

He drove away, and Robin and I returned to the sitting-room. 

Robin mixed me a stiff whisky-and-soda. 

"Champion's prescription, " he said. "Down with it!"

I obeyed listlessly. 

"Now come along upstairs with me. You are going to bed. I want to turnyou out a first-class Candidate in the morning--not a boiled owl. "

His cheery masterfulness had its effect, and I suddenly felt a managain. 

"Never fear!" I said. "I shall go through with it right enough--thewhole business--unless--unless--Robin, old man, supposing--supposing----"

"Blethers!" said Robin hastily. "She'll be much better in the morning. Here's your room. Good-night!"

He shepherded me into my bedroom, shut the door on me, and tiptoed away. 

I really made a determined effort to go to bed. I actually lay down andcovered myself up, but sleep I could not. After an hour of conscientiousendeavour I rose, inspired with a new idea. 

The doctor had straitly forbidden me to enter Phillis's room; butopening out of it was the apartment that was used as her nursery. Therewould be a fire there: I would spend the rest of the night on a sofa infront of it. 

I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. I took a candle, walked softlydown the passage, and let myself quietly into the nursery. The doorleading into Phillis's room was ajar, and a slight smell of some drug ordisinfectant assailed my sharpened senses. 

The room was in darkness, except that a good fire burned in the grate. Asilent figure rose up from before it at my entrance. 

It was Robin. Somehow I was not in the least surprised to see him there. 

"Come along, " he said softly. "I was expecting you. "

 * * * * *

We sat there for the rest of the long night. The house was very still, but every quarter of an hour the Cathedral chimes across the Close--ourrooms lay in a quiet wing of the hotel, which formed a hollow squarewith the Cathedral, Chapter-house, and Canonries--furnished a musicalbreak in the silence. So tensely mechanical does one's brain becomeunder such circumstances, that presently I found myself anticipating theexact moment when the next quarter would strike; and I remember feelingquite disappointed and irritable if, when I said to myself _"Now!"_ thechime did not ring out for another fifteen seconds or so. Truly, atthree o'clock on a sleepless morning the grasshopper is a burden. 

Once Robin rose softly to his feet and turned towards the door ofPhillis's room. I had not heard any one move there, but when I lookedround Dolly was standing on the threshold. She was wrapped in akimono, --I remember its exact colour and pattern to this day, and thecurious manner in which the heraldic-looking animals embroidered upon itwinked at me in the firelight, --and she held an incongruous-lookingcoal-scuttle in her hand. It was not by any means empty, but she handedit to Robin with a little nod of authority and vanished again. 

I looked listlessly at Robin, wondering what he was to do with thecoal-scuttle. He began to cut a newspaper into strips, after which hepicked suitable lumps of coal out of the scuttle and tied them up intoneat little paper packets, half a dozen of which he presently handedthrough the door to Dolly. I suppose she placed them noiselessly on thefire in Phillis's room, but we heard no sound. 

It was a bitterly cold night, and outside the snow was lying thick; soRobin busied himself with preparing other little packets of coal, and atintervals throughout the long night he passed them through the door tothe tireless Dolly. 

Various sounds came from within. Occasionally the child suffered spasmsof pain, and we could hear her crying. Then all-wise Nature would grantthe sorely tried little body a rest at the expense of the mind thatruled it, and poor Phillis would drop into a sort of rambling delirium, through which we perforce accompanied her. At one time she would bewandering through some Elysian field of her own; we heard her callingher mates and proposing all manner of attractive games. (Even"Beckoning" was included. Once I distinctly heard her "choose" me. ) Butmore often she was in deadly fear. Her solitary little spirit was tooplainly beset by those nameless ghosts that haunt the borderlandseparating the realms of Death from those of his brother Sleep. Once hervoice rose to a scream. 

"Uncle Robin! It's the Kelpie! Stop it! It's coming--it's breaving onme! Uncle _Robin_! oh----!"

I looked at Robin. He was sitting gripping the arms of his chair, withevery muscle in his body rigid; and I knew that he, like myself, waspraying God to strike down the cowardly devil that would torment achild. 

Then I heard, for the first time that night, the soothing murmur ofKitty's voice. 

"It's all right, dearie. Mother is holding you fast. It shan't hurt you. There, it's running away now, isn't it? See!"

Kitty's tones would have lightened the torments of the Pit, andPhillis's cries presently died down to an uneasy whisper. After a suddenand curiously pathetic little outburst of singing, --chiefly a jumble ofscraps from such old favourites as "Onward, Christian _Sailors_!"--therewas silence again, and the Cathedral chimed out half-past four. 

Shortly after this the doctor came out of the room with a message fromKitty that I ought to be in bed. Evidently Dolly had told her about me. 

"How is she now, doctor?" I whispered, disregarding the command. 

"Up and down, up and down. She is making a brave fight of it, poorlassie, but we can do little at present except stand by and give reliefwhen the bad fits come. "

"May I go in and see her?"

"No, no! You could do no good, and she might be frightened if she caughtsight of a large dim figure in the dark. Leave it to the women, andthank God for them. Hark!"

Phillis was back in Elysium again. 

"Who's been eating my porridge?" said a gruff little voice. Then came arapturous shriek. Evidently the Little Bear had caught Curly Locks inhis bed. We sat listening, while the game ended and another followed inits place. Suddenly she began to sing again--

 "Then three times round went that gallant ship, And three times round went she; Then three times round went that gallant ship, And--sank--to the--bottom of the sea--ea--ee--"

There was a little wailing _rallentando_, and silence. 

"Philly, Philly, _don't_!" It was the only time that night that Kittygave any sign of breaking down. The doctor hurried back into the room. The clock struck five. 

 * * * * *

After that there was a very long silence. It must have lasted nearly anhour. Then Dolly tiptoed out to us. 

"She's asleep, " she whispered. "He says she's a shade better. I wantanother coal-packet. "

She took what Robin gave her, and faded away. 

After that I think we dozed in our chairs. The next thing I remember wasa knock at the outer door. I opened my heavy eyes and stirred my stiffjoints. The Boots put his head in, and I realised it was daylight. 

"Half-past eight, sir. Mr Cash is waiting downstairs. Poll's been openhalf an hour, he says. "

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

TWO BATTLES. 

Before I left the hotel I struck a bargain with Cash. I would goanywhere and do anything, but he was to give me a written itinerary ofmy movements for the day, clearly stating where I should be at varioustimes. This document I left in the hands of Dolly, who promisedfaithfully to send for me, if--if necessary. 

Then, putting my paternal instincts into my pocket, I braced myself upand plunged into the vortex of polling-day. 

Truly, if Time is the healer, Work is the anesthetic. In the turmoil ofthe crowded streets and polling-booths, I found myself almost asenthusiastic and whole-hearted as if no little girl of mine werefighting for life in a darkened room not many streets away. I shookhands with countless folk, I addressed meetings of the unwashed atstreet corners, and received the plaudits or execrations of themultitude with equal serenity. 

Robin hastened away to the Hide-and-Tallow Works, whence, during thedinner-hour, he charmed many an oleaginous elector to come and plump forInglethwaite, the Man Whom He Knew and Who Knew Him. Gerald and Donkin, smothered in violets and primroses, were personally conducting a sort oftumbril, which dashed across my field of vision from time to time, sometimes full, sometimes empty, but always at full gallop. 

Election "incidents" were plentiful. I was standing in the principalpolling-station at one time, when a gentleman called Hoppett, a cobblerby persuasion--I think I have already mentioned him as the benignantindividual who used to come to the door of his establishment and pursueme with curses down the street--came out from recording his vote. He didnot see me, but caught sight of Robin, who had just arrived with a_posse_ of electors, and was standing by the Returning Officer's table. Hobbling up, the cobbler shook a gnarled fist under my secretary's nose. 

"I've voted against your man, " he shouted. "We're goin' to be rid of thelot of you this time. Set of reskils!. .. I've put my mark againstStridge, I have; and against Inglethwaite's name I've put a picture of abig boot--one of my own making, too! The big boot!" he screamedecstatically--"that's what your man is a-going to get to-day. Setof----"

Robin smiled benignantly upon him, and glanced at the Returning Officer. 

"You hear what this gentleman says?" he remarked. 

"I do, " replied the official. 

"Is it not a fact that he has annulled his vote by making unnecessarymarks on his voting-paper?" continued Robin solemnly. 

"That is so, " assented the Returning Officer. "I'm afraid your votewon't count this time, Mr Hoppett. Good morning!"

There was a roar of delighted laughter from friend and foe, and thefermenting Hoppett was cast forth. 

I succeeded in getting back to the hotel for ten minutes atluncheon-time. Dolly met me--pale, sleepless, but unbeaten. 

"The doctor is with her just now, " she said. "She has been in fearfulpain, poor kiddy; but he has given her a drug of some sort, and she iseasier now. "

"Couldn't I see her, just a moment?" I said wistfully. 

"The answer to that question, sir, " replied Dolly, "is in the negative. "

We both smiled resolutely at this familiar tag, and Dolly concluded--

"Kitty is lying down. I made her. But she is going to get up whenthey--I mean----"

I detected a curious confusion in her voice. 

"When what?" I asked. 

"Nothing. "

I surveyed my sister-in-law uneasily

"Are they expecting--a crisis, then?"

"Yes--a sort of a one. "

"When?"

Dolly seemed to consider. 

"About five, " she said. 

"Hadn't I better be near, in case----?"

"Where are you to be this afternoon?"

"Hunnable. "

Dolly nodded her head reflectively. 

"When can you be back?" she asked. 

"I can do it by five, I should think. "

"That will be soon enough. The doctor said that if--you were wanted, itwould be about then. Good-bye, old gentleman!"

"Good-bye, Dolly! Mind you go to bed. " (We seem to have spent a largeportion of that twenty-four hours urging each other to go to bed. )

Then I went back to work. 

Polling had been brisk during the dinner-hour, and both Cash and Robinconsidered that we were doing fairly well. Things would be slack atStoneleigh itself during the afternoon, and the obvious and politiccourse now was to drive over to the fishing village of Hunnable--I hadonly time for one, and this was the most considerable--and catch mymarine constituents as they emerged from the ocean, Proteus-like, between three and four o'clock. 

I did so, and for the space of an hour and a half I solicited thepatronage of innumerable tarry mariners, until their horny handshad filled up the voting-papers and my own smelt to heaven of fish. It was a quarter to five, and dark, before I escaped from the attentionsof a small but pertinacious group of inquirers who wanted to understandmy exact attitude on the question of trawling within the three-milelimit, and proceeded at a hand-gallop back to Stoneleigh. (Thatodoriferous but popular vehicle, the motor-car, was still in thepreceded-by-a-man-ten-yards-in-front-bearing-a-red-flag stage in thosedays, and we had to rely on that antiquated but much more reliablemedium of transport, the horse. ) The snow lay very heavily in places, and our progress was not over-rapid. Moreover, passing the centralCommittee Rooms on my way to the hotel, I was stopped and haled withinto conciliate various wobblers, and another twenty minutes of precioustime sped. But I stuck to my determination to let nothing interfere withduty that day, and I argued with free-thinkers and pump-handled bemusedsupporters until all was settled and Cash said I might go. 

Still, it was nearer six than five when my panting horses drew up at theCathedral Arms. 

There was no Dolly to receive me this time, but at the top of the stairsleading to our rooms I met the doctor. He was accompanied by agrey-haired, kind-eyed old gentleman in a frock-coat, with "LondonSpecialist" written all over him. It was Sir James Fordyce. 

"Well?" I asked feverishly as I shook hands. 

The two men motioned me into the sitting-room, and Farquharson said, ina curiously uncertain fashion--

"Mr Inglethwaite, we have done a thing which should not, properly, havebeen done without your consent. Your secretary suggested the idea, and Iagreed. Mrs Inglethwaite made a point of our saying nothing to you, andvolunteered to take all responsibility on herself. She said you were notto be worried. So I wired for Sir James----"

"I see, " I said, "and he operated?"

"Yes, at three o'clock this afternoon. Indeed, your sister-in-law, Ithink, purposely concealed from you----"

"She did. " That, then, was the "crisis" that Dolly had in her mind, andthat, too, was why she had told me to come back at five--when everythingwould be well over!

I continued--

"And how have you--I mean--is she----?"

"The operation, " said the old man, "was entirely successful, and, as itturned out, most necessary. But of course for so young a patient thestrain was terrible. "

"How is she?"

"She came through finely, but I do not conceal from you the fact thather life hangs by a thread. "

I had a premonition that something was going to be "broken" to me. Idropped into a chair, and waited dully. Then I felt a hand on myshoulder, and Sir James continued--

"Just weakness, you understand! Her exhaustion when she came out of thechloroform was extreme, but every moment now is in our favour. Childrenhave such extraordinary recuperative power. "

He was speaking in the usual cheery tones of the bedside optimist. Iraised my head. 

"Tell me straight, Sir James--will the child live?"

The old man's grip on my shoulder tightened just for a moment, and whenhe spoke it was in an entirely unprofessional voice. 

"Thanks to two of the bravest and most devoted of women, " he said, "Ithink she will. "

I dropped my head into my hands. 

"Please God!" I murmured brokenly. 

"Of course, " he continued, "anything may happen yet. But the way inwhich she has been cared for by my good friend here----"

"No, no, " said Farquharson. "Give the credit to those that deserve it. Ijust afforded ordinary professional assistance. It was your wife and hersister, Mr Inglethwaite, that pulled the child through. She has hadtight hold of a hand of one of them ever since ten o'clock last night. "

"Yes, " said Sir James; "I think it will be found that their nursing hasjust made the difference. You had better give him something, Farquharson. "

In truth I needed something, though up to this point I had not realisedthe fact. Farquharson gave me a draught out of a little glass, whichsent a steadying glow all through me, and presently I was able to shakehands, dumbly and mechanically, with the great surgeon, who, I found, was bidding me good-bye; for the world is full of sick folk, and theirchampion may not stay to see the issue of one battle before he musthurry off to fight another. 

They left me to myself, while Farquharson went down to the door with SirJames. Presently he returned. 

"I must be getting back to the patient shortly, " he said. "The next houror so will be very critical. The nurse is here, and I have sent theladies to bed. But you may go in for a look, if you like. I am going outfor exactly ten minutes. "

"I see--a breather. You deserve it. "

"Not exactly. I'm going to vote--for Stridge!"

He chuckled in a marvellously cheering way, and left me. 

As I approached Phillis's room the door opened, and I was confrontedwith that most soothing and comforting of sights to a sick man--anurse's uniform. She was a pleasant-faced girl, I remember, and she wascarrying a basin full of sponges and water, cruelly tinged. 

"Just a peep!" she said, with that little air of motherly sternnesswhich all women, however young, adopt towards fractious children andhelpless males. 

She closed the door very softly upon me, and left me alone. 

For a moment I stood uncertain in the shadow of the screen that guardedthe door. There was a whiff of chloroform in the air, and through thedoorway leading to the room where we had sat throughout the previousnight I could see the end of a white-covered table. Thank God, that partof the business was over!

A shaded lamp burned at Phillis's bedside. She lay deathly still, anattenuated little derelict amid an ocean of white bed-clothes. 

At first I thought I was alone with the child, and was moving softlyforward when I became suddenly aware that some one was kneeling at thefar side of the bed. It was Kitty. Evidently she had not obeyed thedoctor's orders about going to bed. 

A single ray from the lamp fell upon her face. Her eyes were wide open, and she seemed to be looking straight at me. Her lips were moving, and Ibecame aware that she was speaking, very earnestly and almost inaudibly. 

I stood still to hear her. Then I realised that her words were notaddressed to me. Very carefully I stepped back to the door-handle, turned it, and slipped out. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

"QUI PERD, GAGNE. "

Once more I was back in the thick of it all, and till the closing of thepoll at eight o'clock I strove, in company with Cash, Robin, and others, to direct the inclinations of my constituents into the proper channels. 

The tumult increased as the evening advanced. More snow had fallenduring the afternoon, and outlying electors were being conveyed to thescene of action with the utmost difficulty. People were voting at seveno'clock who had intended to get it done and be home by six; and as timewore on it was seen that there would be a desperate rush of businessright up till closing time. 

Every one was in high spirits. That potent factor in British politics, the electioneering egg, had been entirely superseded by the snowball, and the youth of Stoneleigh, massed in the public square outside theTown Hall, were engaged, with a lofty indifference to party distinctionsthat would have been sublime if it had not been so painful, in anuntrammelled bombardment of all who crossed their path. 

At length the Cathedral chimed out the hour of eight, and the pollclosed. Cash hurried up to me. 

"It's going to be a desperately close thing, " he said. "The countingwill begin at once, in the Mayor's room on the first floor of the TownHall. The outlying boxes should be in by half-past nine at the latest, and the result should be out by about eleven. You'll come and watch thecounting, I suppose. "

But there are limits to human endurance. 

"Mr Cash, " I said, buttoning my overcoat up to my ears as a preliminaryto an encounter with the budding statesmen outside, "I think I have gotto the end of my day's work. Nothing can affect the result now, and I'mgoing home--that's flat. Good-night!"

"Surely you're coming to hear the result announced, " wailed Cash. "There's the vote of thanks to the Returning Officer. You'll have topropose that--or second it, " he added grimly. 

"Well, I'll see. But I think, now that the poll is closed, that my dutylies elsewhere, " I said. "If I am really wanted, send word by MrFordyce. "

Five minutes later, and I was once more at the Cathedral Arms. Theground floor of that hostelry hummed like a hive, and the bar andsmoking-room were filled to overflowing with supporters of both sides, who were prudently avoiding all risk of disappointment by celebratingthe result of the election in advance. 

I pushed my way through a group of enthusiastic patriots--many of themin that condition once described to me by a sporting curate as "holdingtwo or three firkins apiece"--who crowded round me, fired with a desireto drink success to the British Constitution--a rash shibboleth, by theway, for gentlemen in their situation to attempt to enunciate at all--atmy expense, and hastened upstairs to our wing. 

In the passage I met the nurse. She greeted me with a little smile; butI was mistrustful of professional cheerfulness that night. 

"Will you tell Mrs Inglethwaite or Miss Rubislaw that I have come in, please?" I said, and turned into the sitting-room. 

The sight of a snug room or a bright fire or a colossal arm-chair isalways comforting to a weary man, even though his thoughts admit oflittle rest. I sank down amid these comforts, and closed my eyes. Nowthat my long day's play-acting was over, and nothing mattered any more, I began to realise how great the strain had been. I was utterly done. Ihad no clear recollection of having tasted food since breakfast, but Iwas not hungry. All I wanted was to be left in peace. Even the sickeninganxiety about Phillis had died down to a sort of dull ache. In a fewminutes a too-wakeful mind struggled with an exhausted body. I wondereddimly when somebody would come and tell me how Philly was. Perhaps----

I fell asleep. 

I was awakened by the consciousness of a second presence in myarm-chair, which was a roomy one of the saddle-bag variety. It wasKitty. Presently I became aware that she was crying, softly, as womenusually do, --men gulp noisily, because they have lost control ofthemselves, and children wail, chiefly to attract attention, --but sosoftly on this occasion that I knew she was trying to avoid disturbingme. 

It had happened, then. 

Well, obviously, this was one of the rare occasions upon which a husbandcan be of some use to his wife. I sat up, and made a clumsy effort at acaress. 

"We've still got each other, " I said, rather brokenly. 

Kitty positively laughed. 

"Adrian, you don't understand. Philly roused up for a few minutes abouteight o'clock, --very _piano_, poor mite, but almost herself, --and thendropped off into a beautiful sleep, bless her! The doctor has gone homeand left the nurse in charge. He says things should be all right now. Oh, Adrian, Adrian!"

And my wife sobbed afresh. 

"Then what the--what on earth are you crying for?" I demanded. 

"I don't know, dear, " said Kitty, without making any attempt to stop. "I'm so happy!"

Really, women are the most extraordinary creatures. Here was I, afterthe labour and anxiety of the last twenty-four hours, ready to shout forjoy. I was no longer tired: I felt as if my day's work had never been. Iwanted to sing--to dance--to give three cheers in a whisper. And mywife, after giving me a very bad fright, was sitting celebrating ourvictory by a flood of tears and other phenomena usually attributed bythe masculine mind to unfathomable woe. It was all very perplexing, andI felt a trifle ill-used; but I suppose it was one of the things thatmark the difference between a man and a woman. 

After that we sat long and comfortably. Our conversation need not be setdown here, for it has no bearing on this chronicle. 

Finally we looked at the clock, and then at each other. 

"We must have been sitting here a long time, " I said. "I wonder wherethe others are. "

"By the way, " said Kitty, "Dilly and Dicky have arrived. Robin and Dollywired for them this morning. They may be upstairs any moment. They werehaving supper in the coffee-room when last I saw them. " She patted herhair. "Do I look an awful fright?"

I turned in the restricted space at my command and surveyed her. 

"Do my eyes look wet?" she inquired, feeling in my pocket for myhandkerchief. 

Kitty has large grey eyes. Once, during the most desperate period of ourcourtship, I referred to them as "twin lakes"--an indiscretion whichtheir owner, in her less generous moments, still casts up to me. Butto-night the territory surrounding them presented a distinct appearanceof inundation. I continued to gaze. I thought of last night's ceaselessvigil and to-day's long-drawn battle. My wife had borne the brunt ofall, and I had grudged her a few tears! My heart smote me. 

"Kit!" I said suddenly; "poor Kit!". .. 

We were interrupted by the opening of the door and the entrance of whatI at first took to be a chimney-sweep's apprentice, but which proved tobe my brother-in-law, with evidence of electoral strenuousness writtenthick upon him. 

"Hallo, you two!" he remarked genially. Then, noticing ourunconventional economy of sitting-space--"Sorry! I didn't know. Ithought you'd given up that sort of thing years ago!"

I rose and shook myself. 

"Come in, my son, " I said. 

"Righto!" replied Gerald. Then he addressed himself to a figure which, with true delicacy of feeling, had shrunk back into the passage outside. 

"Come in, Moke, old man. I've got them separated now!"

The discreet Master Donkin sidled respectfully in at the door, andGerald continued. 

"Moke and I would like to say how pleased we are to hear about Phillis, "he said, rather awkwardly for him. "We have just got to hear how reallybad she's been. "

The resolution was seconded by a confirmatory mumble from Master Donkin. 

"We met the nurse just now, " continued Gerald, "and she told us aboutthe operation, and all that. It must have been a pretty thick day foryou, Adrian. And you're looking pretty rotten, too, Kitty, " he addedwith brotherly directness. "But do you people know what time it is?Half-past eleven, nearly. The result should be out any minute. Aren'tyou coming to the Town Hall? They'll want you to make a speech, or getegged, or something. "

I looked at my watch. 

"Well, there's no particular reason why I shouldn't go--_now_, " I said. "What do you say, Kitty? Hark! What's that?"

"That's the result, I expect, " said my brother-in-law. 

We drew up the blind and opened the window. The moon was shiningbrightly, and threw the monstrous shadow of the Cathedral very blacklyupon the untrodden snow of the peaceful Close. Through the clear nightair came the sound of frenzied cheering. 

"That's it, right enough, " said Gerald. "I wonder if you've got thechuck, my bonny boy. "

"Ugh! It is cold! Come in, " said Kitty. 

We shut the window, drew down the blind, returned to the fire, andwaited. Dolly joined us now, and Kitty vanished to sit by Phillis. Wewaited on. Somehow it never occurred to us to send downstairs for news. I suppose there are times when the human craving for sensation is sated. We sat and waited. 

At last the door opened, and, as I expected, Robin entered. He lookedlike a man who has not been to bed for a week. He shut the door softlybehind him--evidently he feared he might be entering a house ofmourning--and surveyed us for a moment without speaking. I knew what wasin his mind. Then he said--

"We have lost. "

I stood up. 

"On the contrary, " I replied, "we have won. "

In a bound Robin was on the hearth-rug, gripping my hand with his. (Hisother had somehow got hold of one of Dolly's, and I remember wonderingif he was hurting her as much as me. )

"You mean it?" he roared. 

"I do. She is sleeping like a lamb. "

"Oh, man, I'm just glad! What does _anything_ matter after that?"

Then we sat down and smiled upon each other largely and vacuously. Wewere all a little unstrung that night, I think. After all, it seemsrather unreasonable to lavish one's time, labour, and money on anelectoral contest, and then laugh when you lose, and say it doesn'tmatter, just because a child isn't going to die. Oh, I am glad Mr Cashwas not there!

"But I must tell you what happened when the result was read out, " saidRobin. "It was a near thing--a majority of twenty-seven. (I don't thinkit is worth while to ask for a recount: everything was done verycarefully. ) When the figures went up there was the usual hullabaloo----"

"We heard it, thanks, " said Gerald. 

"And presently Stridge stepped out on to the balcony and bowed hisacknowledgments. There was a lot more yelling and horn-blowing, and thenthey began to cry out for Inglethwaite. "

"Naturally. Yes?"

"They were quiet at last, and Stridge got his speech in. He talked theusual blethers about having struck a blow that night that would ringthrough England, --just what _you_ would have had to say if you had gotin, in fact, --and _then_ he went on, the old sumph, to say that forreasons best known to himself his _honourable_ opponent had seen fit towithhold his presence from them that night, and he begged leave to addthat he considered that a man, even though he knew he was going to bebeaten, ought to have the pluck to come and face the music. "

"Mangy bounder!" remarked my brother-in-law dispassionately. 

"Oh, I was just raging!" continued Robin. "The people of course yelledthemselves hoarse; and Stridge was going on to rub it into you, when Istepped on to the balcony beside him--I had been standing just insidethe window--and I put my hand on Stridge's fat shoulder and I pulled himback a wee thing, and I roared--

"'Gentlemen, will you not let me say a word for Mr Inglethwaite?'"

Dolly's eyes began to blaze, and I saw her lips part in anticipation. 

"There was a tremendous uproar then, " Robin went on with relish. "Thefolk howled to Stridge to put me over the balcony----"

"I wish he had tried!" said Gerald with simple fervour. 

"And other folk cried to me to go on. They knew there must be someexplanation of your absence. I just stood there and let them roar. Inside the room there was a fine commotion; and with the tail of my eyeI could see Cash hurrying round explaining to them what I wanted to say. (He has his points, Cash!) Then at last, as the noise got worse andworse, I put my mouth to Stridge's ear and bellowed that he would regretit all his life if he didn't let me say what I had to say, and that hewould be grateful to me afterwards, and all that. He is a decent oldbuffer, really, and he was evidently impressed with what I said----"

"I should like to know exactly what you did say, Robin, " I interpolated. 

"Never mind just now. Anyhow, he turned and clambered back into theroom, and left me with the crowd. They were soon quiet, and I just toldthem. "

Robin leaned back in his chair. 

"Told them _what_?" came from all parts of the room. 

But Robin had become suddenly and maddeningly Caledonian again. 

"I just told them about Philly, " he said. "What else could I do? Itwasn't like telling them during the election. That would have been anappeal to the gallery for votes. This was just common justice to you. Anyhow, they quite quietened down after that. "

And that was all the report that its author ever gave us of a speechwhich, in the space of four minutes, turned a half-maddened election mobinto a silent, a sympathetic, and (I heard afterwards) a deeply movedbody of sober human beings. 

"What happened next?" asked Kitty, who had rejoined us. (Phillis wasstill sleeping sweetly, she said. )

"After that I hauled old Stridge on to the balcony again and gave him acongratulatory hand-shake, _coram populo_, on your behalf. Then Iretired and slipped out by a back way and came here. Stridge was in fulleruption again when I left----"

Dolly held up her hand. 

"What is that curious noise?" she said. 

"It's outside, " said Kitty. 

Gerald went to the window and lifted the blind. Then he turned to us. 

"I say, " he said in an unusual voice, "come here a minute. "

We drew up the blind and surveyed the scene before us. 

Two minutes before the moon had shone upon an untrodden expanse of snow. Now the Close was black with people. There must have been two or threethousand. They stood there in the gleaming moonlight, silent, motionless, like an army of phantoms. At their head and forefront--Icould see the moonlight glitter on his watch-chain, which lay in a mostfavourable position for lunar reflection--stood the newly elected Memberfor Stoneleigh, Mr Alderman Stridge. 

Simultaneously there was a knock at the door, and the hall-porter of thehotel appeared. 

"Mr Stridge's compliments, sir, and he would like to have a word withyou. "

"Go down quickly, Adrian, " said Kitty anxiously. "They'll wake Philly!"

I descended without a word, and passed out into the Close from a Frenchwindow on the ground floor. 

I glanced up in the direction of our rooms and noticed that my partywere standing on the balcony outside the sitting-room. I could seeKitty's anxious face. But she need have had no fear. 

Mr Stridge advanced towards me, silk hat in hand. Behind him stood avariety of Stoneleigh worthies, and I had time to notice that the groupwas composed of an indiscriminate mixture of friends and foes. 

"Mr Inglethwaite, sir, " said Stridge, "I should like to shake you by thehand. "

He did so, as did a few of those immediately around us, in perfectsilence. I wondered what was coming. 

"That is all, sir, " said Stridge simply, and not without a certaindignity. "We shall move off now. We did you a wrong to-night, and we allof us"--he indicated the motionless multitude with a sweep of hishand--"agreed to come here in silence, just for a moment, as anindication of our sympathy and--respect. "

I was unable to speak, which was not altogether surprising. There wassomething overwhelming about the dumb kindness of it all, --threethousand excited folk holding themselves in for fear of disturbing asick child, --and I merely shook Stridge's hand again. 

However, I found my voice at last. 

"Mr Stridge, " I said, "there is only one thing I will say in response toyour kindness, but I think it is the one thing most calculated to rewardyou all for it. To-night my little girl's illness took a favourableturn. She is now fast asleep, and practically out of danger. "

I saw a great ripple pass over the crowd, like a breeze over acornfield, as the news sped from mouth to mouth. Both Stridge's greathands were on my shoulders. 

"Good lad!" he said. "Good lad!"

He patted my shoulders again, and then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he turned and whispered a direction to his lieutenants. I overheard thewords "Market Square, " and "A good half mile away. " Once more the wavepassed over the cornfield, and without a sound the great concourseturned to the left and streamed away over the trampled snow, leaving mestanding bareheaded on the steps of the French window, almost directlybelow the spot where the unconscious little object of all thisconsideration lay fast asleep. 

I returned to the group on the balcony. They had heard most of theconversation, and Kitty was unaffectedly dabbing her eyes. 

"Well, let us get in out of the cold, " I said, suddenly cheerful andbrisk. "I want my supper. "

"Wait a moment, " said Robin, "I don't think everything is quite overyet. What is that? Listen!"

From the direction of the Market Square came the shouts of a greatmultitude. Cheer upon cheer floated up to the starry heavens. The roarsthat had greeted the declaration of the poll were nothing to these. There was a united ring about them that had been lacking in the others. It was like one whole-hearted many-headed giant letting off steam. 

"A-a-h!" said Kitty. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

IN WHICH ALL'S RIGHT WITH THE WORLD. 

After that we became suddenly conscious of our bodily wants, andclamoured for supper. 

It was long after midnight, and most of the hotel servants had gone tobed. But one waiter of political leanings, who had been an enthusiasticwitness of the proceedings in the Close, stood by us nobly. He laid atable in the sitting-room. He materialised a cold turkey, a brown loaf, and some tomatoes; and he even achieved table-napkins. Gerald and Donkinon their part disappeared into the nether regions, and returned bearingmince-pies and cider. Some one else found champagne and opened it; andin a quarter of an hour we were left to ourselves by the benignantwaiter round a comfortably loaded table, in a snug room with the fireburning and the curtains drawn. 

It was an eccentric kind of meal, for every one was overflowing with asort of reactionary hilarity; and everybody called everybody else "oldman" or "my dear, " and I was compelled to manipulate my food with myleft hand owing to the fact that my wife insisted on clinging tightly tomy right. The only times I got a really satisfactory mouthful were whenshe slipped out of the room to see how her daughter was sleeping. 

As the meal progressed, I began to note the exceedingly domestic andintimate manner in which we were seated round the table, which was smalland circular. Kitty and I sat together; then, on our right, came Dickyand Dilly, then Gerald and Donkin, each partially obscured from view bya bottle of cider about the size of an Indian club; and Dolly and Robincompleted the circle. 

The party comported themselves variously. Kitty and I said little. Wewere utterly tired and dumbly thankful, and had no desire to contributegreatly to the conversation; but we turned and looked at one another ina contented sort of way at times. Dicky and Dilly were stillsufficiently newly married to be more or less independent of otherpeople's society, and they kept up a continuous undercurrent oflover-like confidences and playful nothings all the time. Gerald, uponwhom solid food seemed to have the effect that undiluted alcohol hasupon ordinary folk, was stentoriously engaged with Mr Donkin in what astudent of _Paley's Evidences_ would have described as "A Contest ofOpposite Improbabilities" concerning his election experiences. 

Lastly, I turned to Dolly and Robin. Dolly's splendid vitality has stoodher in good stead during the last twenty-four hours, and this, combinedwith the present flood-tide of joyous relief, made it hard to believethat she had spent a day and a night of labour and anxiety. She was muchmore silent than usual, but her face was flushed and happy, and somehowI was reminded of the time when I had watched her greeting the dawn onthe morning after Dilly's wedding. Robin, with the look of a man who hasa hard day's work behind him, a full meal inside him, and a soundnight's sleep before him--and what three greater blessings could a manask for himself?--sat beside her, smiling largely and restfully on thecompany around him. 

Suddenly Dicky made an announcement. 

"There is one more bottle, " he said. "Come on, let's buzz it!"

He opened the champagne in a highly professional manner and filled upour glasses. Gerald and Donkin declined, but helped themselves to freshjorums of cider. 

Then there was a little pause, and we all felt that some one ought tomake a speech or propose a toast. 

"Shall we drink some healths?" proposed Dilly. 

There was a chorus of assent. 

"We will each propose one, " I said, "right round the table in turn. Ladies first! Yours, Kitty? I suppose it will be Philly--eh?"

Kitty nodded. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " I announced, "you are asked to drink to thespeedy recovery of Miss Phillis Inglethwaite. This toast is proposed byher mother, and seconded by her father. "

The toast was drunk with all sincerity, but soberly, as befitted. 

"Now, Dilly, " I said, when we were ready again. 

Dilly whispered something to her husband, which was received by thatgentleman with a modest and deprecatory cough, coupled with an urgentrequest that his wife would chuck it. 

"He won't announce my toast for me, " explained Dilly, turning tous--"he's too shy, poor dear!--so I'll do it myself. Ladies andgentlemen, the toast is--Dicky!"

Dicky's health was drunk with cheers and laughter, and Dilly completedits subject's confusion by kissing him. 

"Now, Dolly!" said every one. 

"Not yet!" said Dolly. "Gerald and Moke are the next pair. Gerald mustact lady, and think of a toast. "

Master Gerald, hastily bolting a solid mass of mince-pie--one couldalmost follow the course of its descent--cheerfully complied. 

"All right, " he said; "I think I'll drink the health of old Mokehimself. He's not much to look at, but he's a good sort. I shan't kisshim, though, Dilly. And, " he added, "I think he had better drink minetoo. He looks thirsty. Come on, sonny--no heeltaps!"

He elaborately linked arms with the now comatose Donkin, and eachthereupon absorbed, without drawing breath, about a pint of ciderapiece. After that, with a passing admonition to his friend not toburst, my brother-in-law returned to his repast. 

So far, the toasts had all been of a most conventional and inevitablecharacter. Now, automatically but a little tactlessly, we all turned tosee what Dolly and Robin were going to do. From the standpoint of thelast two toasts they were certainly in a rather delicate position. 

"Come on, you two!" commanded Gerald. "Do something! Make a spring!"

Robin took up his glass of champagne and turned rather inquiringly toDolly. 

Without a word she linked her arm in his, and they drank together. 

"Oh, come, I say, that's not fair! Whose health were you drinking, Robin, old man?" inquired the tactless Dicky. 

"I was drinking to the future Mrs Fordyce--whoever she may be!" saidRobin, obviously apologetic at being unable to think of anything moresparkling. 

"Whose health were _you_ drinking, Dolly?" yelled Gerald, with muchenjoyment. 

Then Dolly did a startling thing. 

Robin's hand lay resting on the table beside her. Into it shedeliberately slipped, her own; and then gazed--flushed and defiant, butproud and smiling--round a circle composed entirely of faces belongingto people suffering from the gapes. 

I glanced at Robin. He looked perfectly dumfounded, but I saw his handclose automatically round Dolly's fingers, and I saw, too, her pinknails go white under the pressure. 

But Dolly seemed to feel no pain. On the contrary, she continued tosmile upon us. Then, bowing her head quickly, before any of us realisedwhat she would be at, she lightly kissed the great hand which imprisonedher own. Then she looked up again, with glistening eyes. 

"There!" she said. "_Now_ you know!"

Our breath came back, and the spellbound silence was broken. 

"_Dolly_!" said Kitty. 

"My _dear_!" said Dilly. 

"What--_ho_!" drawled Dicky. 

But it was Gerald who rounded off the situation. He was standing on thetable by this time. 

"Three cheers for Dolly and Robin!" he roared. 

We gave them, with full throats. (Fortunately we were a long way fromPhillis's room. )

After that we all sat down again, feeling a little awkward, as people dowhen they have taken the lid off their private feelings for a moment. Finally Kitty led off with--

"But, Dolly, dear, why didn't you tell us? When was it?"

"I didn't tell you before, " said Dolly composedly, "because it has onlyjust happened--this moment. "

"Only this moment? But----"

"Do you mean to say he hasn't _asked_ you? Oh----"

"Are you asking _him_?"

The questions came simultaneously from all parts of the table; horriblyinquisitive, some of them; but then the thing had been so frankly anddeliberately done, that we knew Dolly wanted to explain everything to usthere and then. 

"I'll tell you, " said Dolly, after silence had been restored by the factthat Gerald had shouted us all down and then stopped himself. "Robintold me--well--something, six months ago, the night after Dilly'swedding, at the dance----"

"That _was_ why you locked the door, then, " I said involuntarily. 

Both Robin and Dolly turned upon me in real amazement. But I saw thatthis side-issue would interrupt the story. 

"Never mind!" I said. "Go on! I'll explain afterwards. "

"Well, " continued Dolly, "he said to me--may I tell them, Robin?" Sheturned to the man beside her with a pretty air of deference. Robin, whoup to this point had sat like a graven image, inclined his head, andDolly proceeded--

"I have never told anybody about this--except Dilly, of course. "

"I've got the letter still, " said Dilly. 

"Robin told me, " Dolly went on, "that he wasn't going to ask me to marryhim at present, because he had some childish idea--it is perfectly_idiotic_ to think of; but--he thought he wasn't quite--well, _good_enough for me!"

"What rot!" said Dicky. 

"Muck!" observed Gerald. 

"But he said that he would ask me properly later on, as soon as heconsidered that he was good enough, " continued Dolly. "And as he stillseems to think, " she concluded with more animation, "that he is notquite up to standard, it occurred to me to-night, as we were all here ina jolly little party, to notify him that he is. So I did. That's all. Robin, you are hurting my hand!"

Robin relaxed his grip at last, and remorsefully surveyed the bloodlessfingers that lay in his palm. Then, with a rather shamefaced look allround the table, as much as to say--"I should like fine to restrainmyself from doing this before you all, but I _can't_!"--he bent his headand kissed them in his turn. 

And that was how Robin and Dolly plighted their troth at last--openly, without shame, and for all to see. 

 * * * * *

Robin and I lingered at the turning of a passage, lit only by our twoflickering bedroom candles. 

"Well, we can't complain of having had an uneventful day, " I said. 

"I'm sorry we didn't scrape other twenty-eight votes, " said Robincharacteristically. 

"Never mind!" I said. "I shall be none the worse of a holiday for a yearor two. If you will kindly take Dolly off our hands as quickly aspossible"--he caught his breath at that--"Kitty and I and Phillis willgo a trip round the world together. Then I'll come home and fight aby-election, perhaps. "

"Meanwhile, " said Robin, "you will be having no further need of aprivate secretary. "

"I'm afraid not, " I said. The fact had been tugging at my conscience forthe last two hours. "And that raises another question. What are you twogoing to live on?"

"Champion wants me, " said Robin. "He has offered me the post ofSecretary to that Royal Commission of which he has been appointedChairman. It is a fine opening. "

"I should think it was!" I said with whole-hearted joy. "Good luck toyou, Robin!"

"Thank you!" said Robin. "Still, " he added, as he turned to go, "I wishI could have found you twenty-eight more votes. "

"Between ourselves, " I said, "I don't mind very much. I am not the rightman for this constituency. It has outgrown me. I have not the knack ofhandling a big crowd. What I want is a fine old crusted unprogressiveseat, where I shan't constantly be compelled to drop my departmentalwork and rush down to propitiate my supporters with untruthfulharangues. I'm a square peg here. Now, if they had wanted a really fitand proper candidate for this Parliamentary Division, Robin, they oughtto have approached _you_. "

"Och!" said Robin carelessly, "they did--a month ago! Good night!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

A PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY. 

An old woman in a white mutch stands at the door of a farmhouse in aScottish glen. Her face is wrinkled, and her dim eyes are peering downthe track which leads from the steading to the pasture. Being apparentlyunable to focus what she wants to see she adjusts a pair of spectacles. 

This action brings into her range of vision a distant figure which isengaged in shepherding a herd of passive but resisting cows through agap in the dyke. It is a slow business, but the procession graduallynears home; and when the man at the helm succeeds in steering hissauntering charges safely between the Scylla of a hay-rick and theCharybdis of the burn, the old lady takes off her spectacles and relaxesher vigilance. 

When she looks again, though, she breaks into an exclamation of dismay. The leaders of the straggling procession have safely reached the door ofthe byre close by; but one frisky young cow, suddenly swerving throughan open gate, breaks away down a sloping field of turnips at a lumberinggallop. The herdsman is out of sight round a bend in the road. 

"The feckless body!" observes the old lady bitterly. Then she raises hervoice. 

"Elspeth!"

A reply comes from within the dairy. 

"Ay, mem?"

"You'll need tae leave the butter and help Master Robert. He's no handwith the kye. He's let Heatherbell intill the neeps. And the maister isaway at----"

With a muffled "Maircy me!" a heated young woman shoots out of a sidedoor and proceeds at the double to the assistance of the incompetentcow-herd. 

At length the animals are rounded up into the byre, and Elspeth proceedswith the milking. 

Meanwhile Master Robert, "the feckless body, " stands in a ratherapprehensive attitude before the old lady. He is a huge man of aboutforty-five. He is clean-shaven, and he has humorous grey eyes and darkhair. Despite his homespun attire, he looks more like a leader of menthan a driver of cattle. 

"Robin Fordyce, " says the old lady severely, "what garred ye looseHeatherbell in among the neeps. 

"I'm sorry, mother. But I met Jean M'Taggart in the road, and--westopped for a bit crack. "

The old lady surveys her son witheringly over her glasses. 

"Dandering wi' Jean M'Taggart at your time of life! I'll sort JeanM'Taggart when I see her. It's jist like her tae try and draw a lad fromhis duty. And you! A married man these fifteen years! 'Deed, and it'stime yon lady wife of yours cam' here from London, tae pit a hand onyou. "

The big man's penitent face lights up with sudden enthusiasm. 

"She is coming to-morrow!" he roars exultantly. 

"Aye, you may pretend tae be glad! But she shall hear aboot JeanM'Taggart all the same, " replies the old lady. 

This, of course, is a tremendous joke, and the inquisition is suspendedwhile mother and son chuckle deeply at the idea of Dolly's desperatejealousy. Suddenly Mrs Fordyce breaks off to ask a question. 

"Did ye mind tae shut the gate of the west field?"

Robin thinks, and then raises clenched hands to heaven in an agony ofremorse. 

His mother groans in a resigned sort of way. 

"Run!" she says, "or ye'll hae all the sheep oot in the road! Get themback, and I'll no' tell David on ye!"

Her son bounds away down the slope, but a further command pursues him. 

"An' come back soon! I'll no' be getting you tae myself over muchafter--to-morrow!"

She sits down again in her chair outside the door in the afternoon sun;for she is getting infirm now, and cannot stand up for long. With anindulgent sigh she surveys the flying figure of the Right Honourable SirRobert Chalmers Fordyce, Privy Councillor and Secretary of State, as hefrantically endeavours to overtake and head off three staid ewes, who, having strayed through the open gate, have just decided upon a walkingexcursion to London. 

"A good lad!" she murmurs contentedly. "A good lad, and a good son; anddae'n' weel. But--he's no' just David. It was always David that had theheid on him. "

 * * * * *

A prophet, we know, has no honour in his own country. Fortunately someprophets prefer that this should be the case. 

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