Part 33 (1/2)

Clayhanger has a boudoir? That's the latest.” Still he had employed the word with intention, out of deliberate bravado.

”Breakfast-room,” he added, explanatory.

”I should suggest,” said Albert, ”that Bert goes to him in the breakfast-room. They'll settle it much better by themselves.” He was very pleased by this last phrase, which proved him a man of the world after all.

”So long as they don't smash too much furniture while they're about it,”

murmured Edwin.

”Now, Bert, my boy,” said Albert, in the tone of a father who is also a brother.

And, as Hilda was inactive, Bert stalked forth upon his mission of manliness, smiling awkwardly and blus.h.i.+ng. He closed the door after him, and not one of the adults dared to rise and open it.

”Had any luck with missing words lately?” Albert asked, in a detached airy manner, showing that the Bert-George affair was a trifle to him, to be dismissed from the mind at will.

”No,” said Edwin. ”I've been off missing words lately.”

”Of course you have,” Clara agreed with gravity. ”All this must have been very trying to you all.... Albert's done very well of course.”

”I was on 'politeness,' my boy,” said Albert.

”Didn't you know?” Clara expressed surprise.

”'Politeness'?”

”Sixty-four pounds nineteen s.h.i.+llings per share,” said Albert tremendously.

Edwin appreciatively whistled.

”Had the money?”

”No. Cheques go out on Monday, I believe. Of course,” he added, ”I go in for it scientifically. I leave no chances, I don't. I'm making a capital outlay of over five pounds ten on next week's compet.i.tion, and I may tell you I shall get it back again, _with_ interest.”

At the same moment, Bert re-entered the room.

”He's not there,” said Bert. ”His drawing's there, but he isn't.”

This news was adverse to the cause of manly peace.

”Are you sure?” asked Clara, implying that Bert might not have made a thorough search for George in the boudoir.

Hilda sat grim and silent.

”He may be upstairs,” said the weakly amiable Edwin.

Hilda rang the bell with cold anger.

”Is Master George in the house?” she harshly questioned Ada.

”No'm. He went out a bit since.”

The fact was that George, on hearing from the faithful Ada of the arrival of the Benbows, had retired through the kitchen and through the back-door, into the mountainous country towards Bleakridge railway-station, where kite-flying was practised on immense cinder-heaps.