Part 16 (1/2)

The Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys meanwhile stared at us all calmly but firmly through his eye-gla.s.s. I saw young Horatio Saunders meet that gaze and sink into his carpet slippers. I saw Mr. Moggridge frown terribly, and cross his arms.

Sam Buzza came forward--

”Ah, how d'ye do? How d'ye do, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys? Looking round for the governor? He's been in bed for a week.”

I think we all envied Samuel Buzza at this moment.

”Ah, nothing serious, I hope?” drawled Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.

”Serious, ha, ha! Haven't you heard--”

”Sam, dear!” expostulated Mrs. Buzza.

”All right, mother. He can't hear,” and Sam plunged into the story.

The ice was broken. In a few moments a whist party was made up to include the Honourable Frederic, and Miss Limpenny breathed more freely. Mr. Moggridge was led up by Sam, and introduced.

”Ah, indeed! Mr. Moggridge, I have been so longing to know you.”

Sam looked a trifle vexed. The poet simpered that he was happy.

”Of course I have been reading 'Ivy Leaves.' So mournful I thought them, yet somehow so attractive. How _did_ you write it all?”

Mr. Moggridge confessed amiably that he ”didn't quite know.”

”Let me see; those lines beginning--”

'O give me wings to--to--'

”I forget for the moment how it goes on.”

”'To fly away,'” suggested the bard.

”Ah, exactly; 'to fly away.' So simple--just what one _would_ wish wings for, you know. It struck me very much when I read it.

When did you think of it, Mr. Moggridge?”

The poet blushed and began to look uncomfortable.

”Ah! you are reticent. Excuse me; I ought not to probe a poet's soul. Still, I should like to be able to tell my friends--”

”The--the fact is,” stammered Mr. Moggridge, ”I--I thought of them-- in--my bath.”

Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys leaned back and laughed--a pretty rippling laugh that shook the diamonds upon her throat. Sam guffawed, and by this action sprang that little rift between the friends that widened before long into a gulf.

”I shall ask you to copy them into my Alb.u.m. I always victimise a lion when I meet one.”

This was said with a glance full of compensation. Mr. Moggridge tried to look very leonine indeed. Across the room another pair of eyes gently reproached him. Never before had he tarried so long from Sophia's side. Poor little heart! beating so painfully beneath your dowdy muslin bodice. It was early yet for you to ache.

”Oh, ah, d.i.c.k Cheddar--knew him well,” came in the sonorous tones of the Honourable Frederic from the whist-table. ”So you were at College with him--first cousin to Lord Stilton--get the t.i.tle if he only outlives the old man--good fellow, d.i.c.k--but drinks.”