Part 7 (1/2)

”Not _quite_ the clean potato, young man, you may take my word for it.

But that makes no odds. We'll have him to dinner. Shouldn't wonder if the party could sing a good song and do conjuring tricks.”

”Pea-and-thimble and the rest of it,” rejoins his friend. ”Come and look at my bay mare.”

So, dismissing Picard from their thoughts, they leave him to Frank Vanguard and breakfast.

These appear simultaneously. Frank, looking exceedingly clean, fresh, and handsome, is full of apologies for keeping his guest waiting.

”But you see we were very late last night,” he urges, ”and I'm not one of those fellows who can do entirely without sleep. If I don't get four or five hours I'm fit for nothing. It's const.i.tutional, no doubt. I think I must have been _born_ tired.”

Picard laughs--and when he laughs his expression changes for the worse.

”I can sit up for ever,” says he, ”if there's anything to sit up for. A roll in the blankets and a tub are as good as a night's rest to me. Now, you'll hardly believe I was playing _ecarte_ till six this morning, and came down by the nine o'clock train!”

Frank _didn't_ believe it, though it was true enough, but helped himself to a cutlet without expressing incredulity.

”Did you drive all the way back yesterday?” said he. ”You must have been late in London, and it's a good day's work.”

”I had three teams on the road,” answered the other, ”and only one of them took any getting together. Faith, the heaviest part of the business was talking to Mrs. Battersea! She _would_ come, and she _would_ sit on the box, and she sulked all the way home. You'll never guess why.”

Mrs. Battersea was a celebrity of a certain standing in certain circles, not quite without the pale of decent society, yet as near the edge as was possible, short of actual expulsion. If a male Battersea existed he never appeared, and the lady who bore his name, a showy middle-aged woman, with a fine figure, and all the airs of a beauty, seemed in no wise restricted by matrimonial thraldom. She was one of those people to be seen at reviews, races, and all open-air gatherings within twenty miles of London--at flower-shows, plays, operas, and charity concerts in the metropolis; but n.o.body ever met her at a dinner-party, a ball, or a ”drum.” To sum up--men like Picard called her ”a stunner;” ladies like Mrs. Lascelles said she was ”bad style.”

Frank, thinking none the better of this new friend for the freedom with which he talked of his female acquaintance, professed ignorance of Mrs.

Battersea's reasons for discontent.

”Not easily pleased, I dare say,” he answered carelessly. ”Sometimes they're not, when they have everything their own way. Nervous on a coach, perhaps? And yet that could hardly be, for you've got the handiest team out, and I can see you're as good as most professionals.”

”Guess again,” said the other, who had finished breakfast, and was lighting a cigar.

Frank pondered.

”Seen a better-looking woman than herself, then; that'll do it sometimes, I've remarked. And they're bad to hold when they think there's something else in the race. If it wasn't that, I give it up.”

”You're right, Vanguard,” exclaimed his guest. ”You've hit it, sir, plumb-centre, as we used to say on the Potomac. Mrs. Battersea never ceased talking all the way down; and some queer things she told us, too!

The rough side of her tongue rasps like a file! Well, she was in high feather the whole day. Liked her luncheon, liked her bonnet, liked herself, liked her company, so she said; but, coming off the Course, we pa.s.sed a _duck_ of a girl in an open carriage: a girl with wonderful eyes and a pale face, but features like Melpomene. She'd got on a light-coloured dress, with a lilac sort of bonnet--I dare say you didn't notice her.”

Frank's heart leaped to his throat, meeting his final gulp of coffee.

_Didn't notice her_, forsooth! while the wonderful eyes, pale face, Melpomene mouth, light dress, even the lilac bonnet, had been haunting him for the last twelve hours.

”I only said, 'What a pretty girl!' as we went by,” continued Picard, ”and, will you believe it, Mrs. Battersea got her frill out on the instant! She never gave us another civil word the whole way to London: not one to share amongst the whole coach-load. Those two little Carmine girls that I brought down for Macdonald and Algy Brown were so frightened they wanted to stop at Hounslow and go home by the omnibus!

That was after she caught Rosie making faces behind her back. Algy tried to take his poor little 'pal's' part, and didn't she chaw _him_ up, too!

Rather! I'd nothing to do but mind my driving and think of the Helen who had done all this mischief.”

”How did you know her name was Helen?” asked Frank, completely off his guard.

”Well, I _didn't_,” said the other, wondering at his host's excitement; ”but I suppose now that it is, and that you know her. Couldn't you introduce _me_?”