Part 13 (2/2)

John Breezy gave a roguish glance at his wife and winked. ”Give yer ten guesses,” he said.

”Ernest Treadwell.”

”No,” said Mrs. Breezy, ”Albert Simpkins.”

”Simpky? How funny. Did you ask him or did he ask himself?”

”He asked himself,” said John Breezy.

”I asked him,” said Mrs. Breezy.

”I see. The true Simpky way. He suggested that he would like to have dinner with you and you caught the suggestion. He comes of such a long line of men who have worn their masters' clothes that he is now a sort of second-hand edition of them all, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if, when he falls in love, he goes to the parents first and asks their permission to propose to the daughter; and he'll probably ask not for the daughter herself but for her hand,-which never seems to me to be much of a compliment to the daughter.”

Mrs. Breezy and her husband exchanged a quick glance. Either there was something uncanny about Lola or she knew that this very respectable man was madly in love with her. During his numerous visits to the jeweler's shop Simpkins had invariably led the conversation round to Lola, finding a thousand phases of her character which he adored. But the last time he had been with them there was something in his manner and voice which made it easy to guess that his visit that evening was for the purpose of asking them whether they considered him worthy of becoming their son-in-law. It may be said that they considered that he was, especially after he had told them about the money inherited from his father and his own savings and confided in them his scheme of buying that very desirable inn at Wargrave, in which they could, of course, frequently spend very pleasant week-ends during the summer months. They had before this recognized in him a man of great depth of feeling, of excellent principles and a certain strange ecstasy,-somewhat paradoxical in one who nearly always appeared in a swallow-tail coat, dark trousers and a black tie.

Seeing that this was an occasion of considerable importance, Mrs. Breezy had arranged to dine in the drawing-room. It now behooved her to hurry up to her room and change her clothes and lay an extra place for Lola.

The dinner itself was being cooked at that moment by the baker next door,-duck, new peas and potatoes and apple pie with a nice piece of Gruyere cheese, which, with two bottles of Beaujolais from the Breezy cellar, would be worthy of Mr. Simpkins's attention even though he did come from Dover Street, Mayfair.

As a matter of fact, Lola's remark about the daughter's hand was merely an arrow fired into the air. She had been encouraging Simpkins to look with favor upon the lovesick girl who sat so frequently upon her bed and poured out her heart. She never conceived the possibility of being herself asked for by good old Simpky, who had been so kind to her and was such a knowledgable companion at the theater. The idea of becoming his wife was grotesque, ridiculous, pathetic, hugely remote from her definite plan of life. She considered that the girl Ellen was exactly suited to him. Had she not inherited all the attributes of an innkeeper's wife from her worthy parents who had kept the Golden Sheaf at Shepperton since away back before the great wind? So she ran up to her room to tidy herself, with her soul full of Chilton Park and Fallaray.

Simpkins arrived precisely on time, smelling of Windsor soap and brilliantine. He had indulged in a tie which had white spots upon it, discreet white spots, and into this he had stuck a golden pin,-a horse-shoe for luck. He was welcomed by Mr. Breezy in the drawing-room and immediately twigged the fact that there were four places laid.

Mr. Breezy was waggish. It is the way of a parent in all such circ.u.mstances. ”My boy, who do you think?”

”I dunno. Who?” His tone was anxious and his brows were fl.u.s.tered.

”Lola,” said Mr. Breezy.

”Lola!-I thought she was at Chilton Park with 'er ladys.h.i.+p. I chose this evening because of that. This'll make me very-well--”

”Not you,” said John Breezy. ”You're all right, me boy. We like you.

That inn down at Wargrave sounds good. I can see a nice kitchen garden.

I shall love to wander in it in the early morning and pull up spring onions. I'm French enough for them still. You can take it that the missus and I are all in your favor,-formalities waived. We'll slip away after dinner, go for a little walk and you can plump the question. The betting is you'll win.” And he clapped the disconcerted valet heartily on the back,-the rather narrow back.

”I'm very much obliged, Mr. Breezy,” said Simpkins, who had gone white to the lips, ”and also to Mrs. Breezy. It's nice to be trusted like this, and all that. But I must say, in all honesty, I wanted to take this affair step by step, so to speak. If I'd 'ad the good fortune to be encouraged by you in my desire to ask for Lola's 'and,”-there it came,-”I should 'ave taken a week at least to 'ave thought out the proper things to say to Lola 'erself. Sometimes there's a little laugh in the back of 'er eyes which throws a man off his words. I don't know whether you've noticed that. But this is very sudden and I shall 'ave to do a lot of thinking during the meal.”

”Oh, you English,” said John Breezy and roared with laughter. ”Mong Doo!”

One of Simpkins's hands fidgeted with his tie while the other straightened the feathers on the top of his head. Jumping Joseph, he was fairly up against it! How he wished he was a daring man who had traveled a little and read some of the modern novels. It was a frightful handicap to be so old-fas.h.i.+oned.

And then the ladies arrived,-Mrs. Breezy in a white fichu which looked like an antimaca.s.sar, a thing usually kept for Christmas day and wedding anniversaries; Lola in a neat blue suit and the highest spirits,-a charming costume.

”h.e.l.lo, Simpky.”

”Good evening, Mr. Simpkins.”

Simpkins bowed. He certainly had the Grandison manner. And while Lola brought him up to date with the state of affairs, so far as she knew them, Mrs. Breezy disappeared, stood on a chair against the fence in the back yard and received the hot dishes which were handed over to her by the baker's wife. A couple of scrawny cats, with tails erect, attracted by the aroma of hot duck, followed her to the back door,-but got no farther. ”You shall have the bones,” said Mrs. Breezy, and they were duly encouraged.

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