Part 43 (1/2)
”I think I can manage alone!”
”I think you can, old girl!... Do you know,” he added with mock severity, ”when you look a little demon like that, I don't somehow fancy trusting my friend into your keeping. One good turn----; you know the rest. I believe I should be carrying that out by preventing his marrying you.”
”He hasn't asked me yet!”
She spoke saucily with sparkling eyes; yet with a rosy blush on her face.
”That's true; perhaps he won't! There's hope for the poor beggar after all! He came all the way from the Mediterranean framing words how he should ask you to marry him, and he had a narrow escape on the dinner party night. Perhaps you killed him then by your nice behaviour; killed any desire he might have had to marry you.” Then he added maliciously: ”Let's hope so, for his sake.”
”d.i.c.k! You are a perfect horror!”
”It was 'Dear d.i.c.k' a minute ago! But there--you're as uncertain as the weather.”
The shot went home; told in the flushed, shamefaced look; d.i.c.k inquired:
”What are you going to say to the Chantrelles?”
”That is my business. They will travel up by the afternoon train. Your business is to go to Prince Charlie, and see that he comes here to-night to dinner.”
He sobered down in a moment at that; answered seriously:
”No, old girl, that is out of the question. Nothing I could say would induce him to that. He simply hates the Chantrelles.”
”I have told you--they won't be here.”
”Even the knowledge of their absence wouldn't make him come to your house, after the way in which you behaved to him last time.”
”All the same,” she said defiantly, ”a place shall be set for him at table.”
”Look here, old girl, I'm willing to help you, but don't make a pocket idiot of yourself. I tell you nothing I could say would induce him to----”
”Well, you can get him to go for a walk, I suppose, can't you?”
”You know we always go for a walk late every afternoon--weather permitting or otherwise.”
”Very well; this afternoon walk eastwards. You know the seat at the end of the Parade?”
”You mean, that one by the wall, which Gracie calls Our Seat?”
”Yes. Make your way there; walk to that, sit down and wait--till I come.”
It dawned on him then: her intent. Admiration of her diplomacy found vent in the strains of ”Rule, Britannia.”
”Don't say anything, d.i.c.k. Promise me that. Not a word to Prince Charlie about--about--anything.”
”But when you turn up at the seat, what am I to do? I suppose it will be a case of two's company, three's none?”
”Oh, you can go and pick sh.e.l.ls and seaweed on the beach!”
”What! In the dark? Is thy brother a dog that he should do these things?