Part 10 (1/2)
”Quite so,” cried the Chaplain, cheerily. He had failed to catch the remark. ”Though of course everything does depend on one's point of view, after all.”
”That celery, Whelpdale!” roared Sir G.o.dfrey.
The terrified b.u.t.tons immediately dropped a large venison pasty into Mrs. Mistletoe's lap. She, having been somewhat tried of late, began screeching. Whelpdale caught up the celery, and blindly rushed towards Sir G.o.dfrey, while Popham, foreseeing trouble, rapidly ascended the sideboard. The Baron stepped out of Whelpdale's path, and as he pa.s.sed by administered so much additional speed that little b.u.t.tons flew under the curtained archway and down many painful steps into the scullery, and was not seen again during that evening.
When Sir G.o.dfrey had reseated himself, it seemed to the Rev. Hucbald (such was the Chaplain's name) that the late interruption might be well smoothed over by conversation. So he again addressed the Baron.
”To be sure,” said he, taking a manner of sleek clerical pleasantry, ”though we can so often say 'Christmas is coming,' I suppose that if at some suitable hour to-morrow afternoon I said to you, 'Christmas is going,' you would grant it to be a not inaccurate remark?” The Baron ate his dinner.
”I think so,” pursued the Rev. Hucbald. ”Yes. And by the way, I notice with pleasure that this snow, which falls so continually, makes the event of a green Christmas most improbable. Indeed,--of course the proverb is familiar to you?--the graveyards should certainly not be fat this season. I like a lean graveyard,” smiled the Rev. Hucbald.
”I hate a ---- fool!” exclaimed Sir G.o.dfrey, angrily.
After this the family fell into silence. Sir G.o.dfrey munched his food, brooding gloomily over his plundered wine-cellar; Mrs. Mistletoe allowed fancy to picture herself wedded to Father Anselm, if only he had not been a religious person; and Elaine's thoughts were hovering over the young man who sat in a cage till time came for him to steal out and come to her. But the young lady was wonderfully wise, nevertheless.
”Papa,” she said, as they left the banquet-hall, ”if it is about me you're thinking, do not be anxious any more at all.”
”Well, well; what's the matter now?” said the Baron.
”Papa, dear,” began Elaine, winsomely pulling at a ta.s.sel on his dining-coat, ”do you know, I've been thinking.”
”Think some more, then,” he replied. ”It will come easier when you're less new at it.”
”Now, papa! just when I've come to say--when I want--when you--it's very hard----” and here the artful minx could proceed no further, but turned a pair of s.h.i.+ning eyes at him, and then looked the other way, blinking rapidly.
”Oh, good Lord!” muttered Sir G.o.dfrey, staring hard at the wall.
”Papa--it's about the Dragon--and I've been wrong. Very wrong. Yes; I know I have. I was foolish.” She was silent again. Was she going to cry, after all? The Baron shot a nervous glance at her from the corner of his eye. Then he said, ”Hum!” He hoped very fervently there were to be no tears. He desired to remain in a rage, and lock his daughter up, and not put anything into her stocking this Christmas Eve; and here she was, threatening to be sorry for the past, and good for the future, and everything a parent could wish. Never mind. You can't expect to get off as easily as all that. She had been very outrageous.
Now he would be dignified and firm.
”Of course I should obey Father Anselm,” she continued.
”You should obey me,” said Sir G.o.dfrey.
”And I do hope another Crusade will come soon. Don't you think they might have one, papa? How happy I shall be when your wine is safe from that horrid Dragon!”
”Don't speak of that monster!” shouted the Baron, forgetting all about firmness and dignity. ”Don't dare to allude to the reptile in my presence. Look here!” He seized up a great jug labelled ”Chateau Lafitte,” and turned it upside down.
”Why, it's empty!” said Elaine.
”Ha!” snorted the Baron; ”empty indeed.” Then he set the jug down wrong side up, and remained glaring at it fixedly, while his chest rose and fell in deep heavings.
”Don't mind it so much, papa,” said Elaine, coming up to him. ”This very next season will Mistletoe and I brew a double quant.i.ty of cowslip wine.”
”Brrrrooo!” went Sir G.o.dfrey, with a s.h.i.+ver.
”And I'm sure they'll have another Crusade soon; and then my brother Roland can go, and the Drag-- and the curse will be removed. Of course, I know that is the only way to get rid of it, if Father Anselm said so. I was very foolish and wrong. Indeed I was,” said she, and looked up in his face with eyes where shone such dear, good, sweet, innocent, daughterly affection, that n.o.body in the wide world could have suspected she was thinking as hard as she could think, ”If only he won't lock me up! if only he won't! But, oh, it's dreadful in me to be deceiving him so!”
”There, there!” said the Baron, and cleared his throat. Then he kissed her. Where were firmness and dignity now?
He let her push him into the chimney-corner, and down into a seat; and then what did this sly, shocking girl do but sit on his knee and tell him n.o.body ever had such a papa before, and she could never possibly love any one half so much as she loved him, and weren't he and she going to have a merry Christmas to-morrow?
”How about that pretty young man? Hey? What?” said Sir G.o.dfrey, in high good-humour.