Part 72 (2/2)

Excusing himself from Nelly and following Uncle Chris into the pa.s.sage-way outside the box, he heard the other's news listlessly. It came as no shock to Freddie. He had never thought Mr. Pilkington anything to write home about, and had never supposed that Jill would accept him. He said as much. Sorry for the chap in a way, and all that, but had never imagined for an instant that he would click.

”Where is Underhill?” asked Uncle Chris agitated.

”Derek? Oh, he isn't here yet.”

”But why isn't he here? I understood that you were bringing him with you.”

”That was the scheme, but it seems he had promised some people he met on the boat to go to a theatre and have a bit of supper with them afterwards. I only heard about it when I got back this morning.”

”Good G.o.d, boy! Didn't you tell him that Jill would be here to-night?”

”Oh, rather. And he's coming on directly he can get away from these people. Ought to be here any moment now.”

Uncle Chris plucked at his moustache gloomily. Freddie's detachment depressed him. He had looked for more animation and a greater sense of the importance of the issue.

”Well, pip-pip for the present,” said Freddie, moving toward the box.

”Have to be getting back. See you later.”

He disappeared, and Uncle Chris turned slowly to descend the stairs.

As he reached the floor below, the door of the stage-box opened, and Mrs. Peagrim came out.

”Oh, Major Selby!” cried the radiant and vivacious hostess. ”I couldn't think where you had got to. I have been looking for you everywhere.”

Uncle Chris quivered slightly, but braced himself to do his duty.

”May I have the pleasure...?” he began, then broke off as he saw the man who had come out of the box behind his hostess. ”Underhill!” He grasped his hand and shook it warmly. ”My dear fellow! I had no notion that you had arrived!”

”Sir Derek came just a moment ago,” said Mrs. Peagrim.

”How are you, Major Selby?” said Derek. He was a little surprised at the warmth of his reception. He had not antic.i.p.ated this geniality.

”My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you,” cried Uncle Chris. ”But, as I was saying, Mrs. Peagrim, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”

”I don't think I will dance this one,” said Mrs. Peagrim surprisingly.

”I'm sure you two must have ever so much to talk about. Why don't you take Sir Derek and give him a cup of coffee?”

”Capital idea!” said Uncle Chris. ”Come this way, my dear fellow. As Mrs. Peagrim says, I have ever so much to talk about. Along this pa.s.sage, my boy. Be careful. There's a step. Well, well, well! It's delightful to see you again!” He ma.s.saged Derek's arm affectionately.

Every time he had met Mrs. Peagrim that evening he had quailed inwardly at what lay before him, should some hitch occur to prevent the re-union of Derek and Jill: and now that the other was actually here, handsomer than ever and more than ever the sort of man no girl could resist, he declined to admit the possibility of a hitch. His spirits soared. ”You haven't seen Jill yet, of course?”

”No.” Derek hesitated. ”Is Jill.... Does she.... I mean....”

Uncle Chris resumed his osteopathy. He kneaded his companion's coat-sleeve with a jovial hand.

”My dear fellow, of course! I am sure that a word or two from you will put everything right. We all make mistakes. I have made them myself. I am convinced that everything will be perfectly all right.... Ah, there she is. Jill, my dear, here is an old friend to see you!”

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