Part 35 (1/2)

”No more do I,” said the Terror.

They walked nearly fifty yards in silence. Then the Terror's face cleared and brightened; and he said cheerfully:

”I know the thing to do! I'll go and ask him his intentions. That's what people said old Hawley ought to have done when the Cut--you know: that fellow from Rowington--was fooling about with Miss Hawley.”

”All right, we'll go and ask him,” said Erebus with equal cheerfulness.

”No, no, you can't go. I must go alone,” said the Terror quickly.

”It's the kind of thing the men of the family always do--people said so about Miss Hawley--and I'm the only man of the family about. If Uncle Maurice were in London and not in Vienna, we might send for him to do it.”

Erebus burst into bitter complaint. She alleged that the restrictions which were applied to the ordinary girl should by no means be applied to her, since she was not ordinary; that since they cooperated in everything else they ought to cooperate in this; that he was much more successful in those exploits in which they did cooperate, than in those which he performed alone.

”It's no good talking like that: it isn't the thing to do,” said the Terror with very cold severity. ”You know what Mrs. Morton said about Miss Hawley and the Cut--that the men of the family did it.”

”You're only a boy; and I'm as old as you!” snapped Erebus.

”Well, when there isn't a man to do a thing, a boy does it. So it's no use you're making a fuss,” said the Terror in a tone of finality.

Erebus protested that the upshot of his going alone would be that Sir James would presently be their detested stepfather; but he went alone, early in the afternoon.

He was now on such familiar terms at the Grange that Mawley took him straight to the smoking-room, where his master was smoking a cigar over his after-lunch coffee. Sir James welcomed him warmly, for he was beginning to learn that the Terror was quite good company, in the country, and poured him out a cup of coffee.

The Terror put sugar and cream into it and forthwith, since a simple matter of this kind did not seem to him to call for the exercise of his usual diplomacy, said with firm directness: ”I've come to ask your intentions, sir.”

”My intentions?” said Sir James, not taking him.

”Yes. You see some of the old cats who live about here are saying that you're only fooling,” said the Terror.

”The deuce they are!” cried Sir James sharply with a sudden and angry comprehension.

”Yes. So of course the thing to do was to ask your intentions,” said the Terror firmly.

”Of course--of course,” said Sir James.

He looked at the Terror; and in spite of his anger his eyes twinkled.

Then he added gravely: ”My intentions are not only extremely serious but they're extremely immediate. I'd marry your mother to-morrow if she'd let me.”

”That's all right,” said the Terror with a faint sigh of relief. ”Of course I knew you were all right. Only, it was the thing to do, with these silly old idiots talking.”

”Quite so--quite so,” said Sir James.

There was a pause; and Sir James looked again at the Terror tranquilly drinking his coffee, in a somewhat appealing fas.h.i.+on, for he had been suffering badly from all the doubts and fears of the lover; and the Terror's serenity was soothing.

Then with a sudden craving for comfort and rea.s.surance, he said: ”Do you think your mother would marry me?”