Part 8 (1/2)
”Never!” declared her mother, firmly. ”f.a.n.n.y, are you wild? Why, you are a Vanderburgh and are related to the English n.o.bility, and I am an Ashleigh. What would your father say to such a notion?”
”Well, Papa isn't here,” said f.a.n.n.y, ”and if he were, he'd do something to keep in with Mr. King. I hate and detest those dreadful Selwyns as much as you do, Mamma, but I'm going to cultivate them. See if I don't!”
”And I forbid it,” said her mother, forgetting herself and raising her voice. ”They are low bred and common. And beside that, they are eccentric and queer. Don't you speak to them or notice them in the slightest.”
”Madam,” said the gentleman of the black looks, advancing and touching his cap politely, ”I regret to disturb you, but I believe you have my chair.”
Mrs. Vanderburgh begged pardon and vacated the chair, when the gentleman touched his cap again, and immediately drew the chair up to the one where the stout, comfortable-looking woman sat.
”It seems to me there are more ill-bred, low-lived people on board this boat than it has been my lot to meet on any voyage,” said Mrs.
Vanderburgh, drawing her sea coat around her slight figure and sailing off, her daughter in her wake.
VI
A LITTLE SURPRISE
”Sir,” said little Mr. Selwyn, bringing his sharp black eyes to bear upon old Mr. King, ”you've been very good to me, and I've not been always pleasant. But it's my way, sir; it's my way.”
Mr. King nodded pleasantly, although deep in his heart he agreed with the choleric old gentleman. ”But as for Polly, why, she's good--good as gold, sir.” There was no mistaking Mr. Selwyn's sentiments there, and his old cheek glowed while giving what to him meant the most wonderful praise to be paid to a person.
Old Mr. King straightened up. ”You've said the right thing now,” he declared.
”And I wish I could see that girl when she's grown up,” added the little old gentleman. ”I want really to know what sort of a woman she'll make. I do, indeed, sir.”
”It isn't necessary to speculate much on it,” answered Mr. King, confidently, ”when you look at her mother and remember the bringing up that Polly Pepper has had.”
The little old gentleman squinted hard at the clouds scudding across the blue sky. ”That's so,” he said at last. ”Well, I'm sorry we are to part,” he added. ”And, sir, I really wish you would come down to my place with your party and give me a fortnight during your stay in England. I really do, sir, upon me word.” There was no mistaking his earnestness as he thrust out one thin, long-fingered hand. With the other, he set a card within Mr. King's fingers.
”Arthur Selwyn, The Earl of Cavendish,” met Mr. King's eyes.
”I had a fancy to do this thing,” said the little old gentleman, ”to run across from America in simple fas.h.i.+on, and it pleased the boy, who hates a fuss. And we've gotten rid of all sorts of nuisances by it; interviews, and tiresome people. And I've enjoyed it mightily.” He chuckled away till it seemed as if he were never going to stop. Old Mr.
King burst out laughing, too; and the pair were so very jolly that the pa.s.sengers, grouped together waiting for the Liverpool landing, turned to stare at them.
”Just see how intimate Mr. King is with that tiresome, common, old Mr.
Selwyn!” exclaimed Mrs. Vanderburgh to her daughter. ”I never was so surprised at anything in all my life, to see that he keeps it up now, for I thought that aristocratic Horatio King was the most fastidious being alive.”
”The Kings have awfully nice times,” grumbled f.a.n.n.y, picking her gloves discontentedly. ”And you keep me mewed up, and won't let me speak to anybody whose grandfather wasn't born in our set, and I hate and loathe it all.”
”You'll be glad when you are a few years older, and I bring you out in society, that I always have been so particular,” observed Mrs.
Vanderburgh, complacently, lifting her head in its dainty bonnet, higher than ever.
”I want some nice times and a little fun now,” whined f.a.n.n.y, with an envious glance over at Polly and Jasper with the dreadful Selwyn boy between them, and Phronsie running up to join them, and everybody in their party just bubbling over with happiness.
”I wish Mr. King and his party would go to Paris now,” said her mother, suddenly.
”Oh, don't I just wish it!” cried f.a.n.n.y, in a burst. ”Did you ask him, Mamma?”
”Yes, indeed; I talked for fully half an hour yesterday, but it was no use. And he doesn't seem to know how long he is going to stay in England; 'only a few days,' he said, vaguely, then they go to Holland.”