Part 3 (1/2)
”That reminds me of a capital story,” breaks in the irrepressible Cyril, gayly. ”By Jove, what a sell it was! One fellow met another fellow----”
”I shall refuse, of course, if you wish it,” Guy goes on, addressing his mother, and scorning to notice this brilliant interruption.
”No, no, dear. Write and say you will think about it.”
”Won't you listen to my capital story?” asks Cyril, in high disgust.
”Very good. You will both be sorry afterward,--when it is too late.”
Even this awful threat takes no effect.
”Unfortunately, I can't do that,” says Guy, answering Lady Chetwoode.
”His friend is obliged to leave the place she is now in, immediately, and he wants her to come here next week,--next”--glancing at the letter--”Sat.u.r.day.”
”Misfortunes never come single,” remarks Cyril; ”ours seem to crowd.
First a ward, and then a widow, and all in the same week.”
”Not only the same week, but the same day,” exclaims Lady Chetwoode, looking at her letter; whereupon they all laugh, though they scarcely know why.
”What! Is she too coming on Sat.u.r.day?” asks Guy. ”How ill-timed! I am bound to go to the Bellairs, on that day, whether I like it or not, to dine, and sleep and spend my time generally. The old boy has some young dogs of which he is immensely proud, and has been tormenting me for a month past to go and see them. So yesterday he seized upon me again, and I didn't quite like to refuse, he seemed so bent on getting my opinion of the pups.”
”Why not go early, and be back in time for dinner?”
”Can't, unfortunately. There is to be a dinner there in the evening for some cousin who is coming to pay them a visit; and I promised Harry, who doesn't s.h.i.+ne in conversation, to stay and make myself agreeable to her.
It's a bore rather, as I fear it will look slightly heathenish my not being at the station to meet Miss Chesney.”
”Don't put yourself out about that: I'll do all I can to make up for your loss,” says Cyril, who is eminently good-natured. ”I'll meet her if you wish it, and bring her home.”
”Thanks, old man: you're awfully good. It would look inhospitable neither of us being on the spot to bid her welcome. Take the carriage and----”
”Oh, by Jove, I didn't bargain for the carriage. To be smothered alive in July is not a fascinating idea. Don't you think, mother,”--in an insinuating voice,--”Miss Chesney would prefer the dogcart or the----”
”My dear Cyril! Of course you must meet her in the carriage,” says his mother, in the shocked tone that usually ends all disputes.
”So be it. I give in. Though when I arrive here in the last stage of exhaustion, reclining in Miss Chesney's arms, you will be to blame,”
says Cyril, amiably. ”But to return to your widow, Guy; who is to receive her?”
”I dare say by this time she has learned to take care of herself,”
laughing. ”At all events, she does not weigh upon my conscience, even should I consent to oblige Trant,”--looking at his mother--”by having her at The Cottage as a tenant.”
”It looks very suspicious, her being turned out of her last place,”
Cyril says, in an uncomfortable tone. ”Perhaps----” Here he pauses somewhat mysteriously.
”Perhaps what?” asks his mother, struck by his manner.
”Perhaps she is mad,” suggests Cyril, in an awesome whisper. ”An escaped lunatic!--a maniac!”