Part 17 (2/2)

”Well, for one thing, you're very like . . . the family.”

”_All_ of them?” she asked anxiously.

”You are very like certain members of the family I have seen,” he said cautiously. ”May I go? I'll send the servant to sit with you----”

Miss b.u.t.termish clutched at him violently with her left hand, exclaiming, ”No, no--don't send anybody yet; I must get out of this beastly skirt before anyone comes. . . . Look here, you're a very decent chap and I'm sorry I rotted you--will you play the game when you go home and hide these beastly clothes before anyone comes? The blessed thing hooks at the side, see; it's coming undone now; if you'll just give a pull I can wriggle out without getting up. . . . Oh, confound . . . I'm Buz, you know, I dressed up on purpose to rot you . . . but if you _could_ not mention it . . .”

Her head fell back and she nearly fainted again from pain. Eloquent divested her of her skirt, and with it the last remnant of Miss b.u.t.termish disappeared--a slim slip of a boy in running shorts, with bare knees, and a gym-belt lay p.r.o.ne on the sofa, very pale and s.h.i.+vering.

In absolute silence Eloquent folded the skirt and the coat, and laying hat and furs on the top, placed them in a neat heap on a chair in the corner.

He went to his bedroom, fetched the eiderdown off his own bed and covered the boy with it. As he was tucking in the eiderdown at the side Buz put out a cold left hand and held him by the coat sleeve, saying curiously--”Are you in an awful bait? are you going to be really stuffy about it?”

Eloquent looked straight into the quizzical grey eyes that held his.

The boy's voice belied the eyes, for it was anxious.

”Of course not,” he said quite seriously, ”I'm only too sorry your trick should have had such a disastrous conclusion. Who shall I ask for up at the house, and what shall I do with the things?”

”Oh take them with you--could you? Give 'em to Fusby, and tell him to put them in their rooms--the furs are granny's. He'll do it and never say a word; decent old chap, Fusby. I say, I'm awfully sorry to be such a nuisance. I'm certain I could walk home if you'll let me.”

”That you certainly must not do, I'll go at once. Here's the hand-bell. I'll tell the maid that she is to come if you ring. I expect my aunt will be in directly--I'll be as quick as I can--cheer up.”

Eloquent bustled about putting the remains of Miss b.u.t.termish tidily into his suit-case while the grey eyes followed his movements with amused interest.

”I'm most awfully obliged,” said Buz in a very low voice; ”I do feel such an a.s.s lying here.”

There was a murmur of voices in the pa.s.sage. The front door was closed with quiet decorum and the little sitting-room grew darker. Two big tears rolled over and Buz sniffed helplessly, for his handkerchief was in the pocket of the jacket lately worn with such gay impudence by Miss Elsmaria b.u.t.termish.

CHAPTER XIII

THE THIN END

Eloquent rode the bicycle left outside by Miss b.u.t.termish, rode carefully, bearing the suit-case in his left hand. The village was quite deserted and he reached the great gates of the Manor House unchallenged. The gates stood open and he entered the dark shadowy drive without having encountered a living soul. Lights gleamed from the lower windows of the house, but the porch was in darkness. He rang loudly, and Fusby, the old manservant, switched on the light as he opened the door and revealed a square, oak-panelled room and the warning cards. The inner door leading to the hall was closed, but the sound of cheerful voices reached Eloquent.

Fusby stood expectant, and in spite of his imperturbable and almost benedictory manner he looked mildly surprised.

”Is Mrs Ffolliot at home?” Eloquent asked rather breathlessly.

”She is, sir,” Fusby answered, but in a tone that subtly conveyed the unspoken ”to some people,” fixing his eyes the while on the suitcase.

”Do you think she could speak to me here?” Eloquent continued humbly.

”I think not, sir; the mistress at present is dispensing tea to the fam'ly. She does not as a rule see people at the door. Can I take a message?”

”I fear I must disturb her,” said Eloquent, conscious all the time that Fusby's mild gaze was concentrated on the suit-case. ”One of her sons”--for the life of him he couldn't remember the boy's ridiculous name--”has broken his arm.”

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