Part 46 (1/2)
Lancelot felt intense relief. An instant after his brow wrinkled itself.
”Oho!” he thought. ”So this is Miss Simpleton, is it?”
”Then why did you take them off again?” retorted Peter.
Mary Ann's repartee was to burst into tears and leave the room.
”Now I've offended her,” said Peter. ”Did you see how she tossed her pretty head?”
”Ingenious minx,” thought Lancelot.
”She's left the tray on a chair by the, door,” went on Peter. ”What an odd girl! Does she always carry on like this?”
”She's got such a lot to do. I suppose she sometimes gets a bit queer in her head,” said Lancelot, conceiving he was somehow safeguarding Mary Ann's honour by the explanation.
”I don't think that,” answered Peter. ”She did seem dull and stupid when I was here last. But I had a good stare at her just now, and she seems rather bright. Why, her accent is quite refined--she must have picked it up from you.”
”Nonsense, nonsense,” exclaimed Lancelot, testily.
The little danger--or rather the great danger of being made to appear ridiculous--which he had just pa.s.sed through, contributed to rouse him from his torpor. He exerted himself to turn the conversation, and was quite lively over tea.
”Sw--eet! Sw--w--w--w--eet!” suddenly broke into the conversation.
”More mysteries!” cried Peter. ”What's that?”
”Only a canary.”
”What, another musical instrument! Isn't Beethoven jealous? I wonder he doesn't consume his rival in his wrath. But I never knew you liked birds.”
”I don't particularly. It isn't mine.”
”Whose is it?”
Lancelot answered briskly: ”Mary Ann's. She asked to be allowed to keep it here. It seems it won't sing in her attic; it pines away.”
”And do you believe that?”
”Why not? It doesn't sing much even here.”
”Let me look at it--ah, it's a plain Norwich yellow. If you wanted a singing canary you should have come to me; I'd have given you one 'made in Germany'--one of our patents--they train them to sing tunes and that puts up the price.”
”Thank you, but this one disturbs me sufficiently.”
”Then why do you put up with it?”
”Why do I put up with that Christmas number supplement over the mantel-piece? It's part of the furniture. I was asked to let it be here and I couldn't be rude.”
”No, it's not in your nature. What a bore it must be to feed it! Let me see, I suppose you give it canary seed biscuits--I hope you don't give it b.u.t.ter.”
”Don't be an a.s.s!” roared Lancelot. ”You don't imagine I bother my head whether it eats b.u.t.ter or--or marmalade.”