Part 15 (1/2)

”And while the cage was drying we put him among the bantams. They had been the greatest allies. But I suppose they took him for a parrot or a hawk, or something that bantams hate for while his cage was drying they picked out his feathers, and PICKED and PICKED out his feathers, till he was perfectly bald. 'Hugo, look,' said I. 'This is the end of Parsival.

Let me have no more surprises.' He burst into tears.”

Thus did Mrs. Lewin create an atmosphere. At first it seemed unreal, but gradually they got used to it, and breathed scarcely anything else throughout the meal. In such an atmosphere everything seemed of small and equal value, and the engagement of Rickie and Agnes like the feathers of Parsival, fluttered lightly to the ground. Ansell was generally silent. He was no match for these two quite clever women. Only once was there a hitch.

They had been talking gaily enough about the betrothal when Ansell suddenly interrupted with, ”When is the marriage?”

”Mr. Ansell,” said Agnes, blus.h.i.+ng, ”I wish you hadn't asked that. That part's dreadful. Not for years, as far as we can see.”

But Rickie had not seen as far. He had not talked to her of this at all. Last night they had spoken only of love. He exclaimed, ”Oh, Agnes-don't!” Mrs. Lewin laughed roguishly.

”Why this delay?” asked Ansell.

Agnes looked at Rickie, who replied, ”I must get money, worse luck.”

”I thought you'd got money.”

He hesitated, and then said, ”I must get my foot on the ladder, then.”

Ansell began with, ”On which ladder?” but Mrs. Lewin, using the privilege of her s.e.x, exclaimed, ”Not another word. If there's a thing I abominate, it is plans. My head goes whirling at once.” What she really abominated was questions, and she saw that Ansell was turning serious.

To appease him, she put on her clever manner and asked him about Germany. How had it impressed him? Were we so totally unfitted to repel invasion? Was not German scholars.h.i.+p overestimated? He replied discourteously, but he did reply; and if she could have stopped him thinking, her triumph would have been complete.

When they rose to go, Agnes held Ansell's hand for a moment in her own.

”Good-bye,” she said. ”It was very unconventional of us to come as we did, but I don't think any of us are conventional people.”

He only replied, ”Good-bye.” The ladies started off. Rickie lingered behind to whisper, ”I would have it so. I would have you begin square together. I can't talk yet--I've loved her for years--can't think what she's done it for. I'm going to write short stories. I shall start this afternoon. She declares there may be something in me.”

As soon as he had left, Tilliard burst in, white with agitation, and crying, ”Did you see my awful faux pas--about the horsewhip? What shall I do? I must call on Elliot. Or had I better write?”

”Miss Pembroke will not mind,” said Ansell gravely. ”She is unconventional.” He knelt in an arm-chair and hid his face in the back.

”It was like a bomb,” said Tilliard.

”It was meant to be.”

”I do feel a fool. What must she think?”

”Never mind, Tilliard. You've not been as big a fool as myself. At all events, you told her he must be horsewhipped.”

Tilliard hummed a little tune. He hated anything nasty, and there was nastiness in Ansell. ”What did you tell her?” he asked.

”Nothing.”

”What do you think of it?”

”I think: d.a.m.n those women.”

”Ah, yes. One hates one's friends to get engaged. It makes one feel so old: I think that is one of the reasons. The brother just above me has lately married, and my sister was quite sick about it, though the thing was suitable in every way.”