Part 47 (1/2)
”Wrong, Tom. Yesterday I made it up. I like the 'infant' best. But what really saddens me is that I am by no means sure he likes _me_ best. He is terribly fond of Tom, and I sometimes fear thinks him the better fellow of the two.”
At this moment the door opens and Taffy comes in.
”Why! Here is my 'infant,'” exclaims Mabel, surprised. ”Dear Mr.
Musgrave, I had no idea I should meet you here.”
”My dear Mrs. Steyne! I had no idea such luck was in store for me. I am so glad to see you again! Lilian, why didn't you break it to me? Joyful surprises are sometimes dangerous.”
”I thought you knew. We have been discussing 'Mabel's' coming,” with a shy smile, ”all the past month.”
”But how could I possibly guess that the 'Mabel' who was occupying everybody's thoughts could be my Mrs. Steyne?”
”Ours!” murmurs Tom, faintly.
”Yes, mine,” says Taffy, who is not troubled with over-much shyness.
”Mr. Musgrave is your cousin?” Mabel asks, turning to Lilian.
”No, I am her son,” says Taffy: ”you wouldn't think it--would you? She is a good deal older than she looks, but she gets herself up wonderfully. She is not a bad mother,” reflectively, ”when one comes to think of it.”
”I dare say if you spoke the truth you would confess her your guardian angel,” says Mabel, letting a kindly glance fall on pretty Lilian. ”She takes care of you, no doubt.”
”And such care,” answers Lilian; ”but for me I do believe Taffy would have gone to the bad long ago.”
”'Taffy'! what a curious name. So quaint,--and pretty too, I think. May I,” with a quick irrepressible glance, that is half fun, half natural coquetry, ”call you Taffy?”
”You may call me anything you like,” returns that young gentleman, with the utmost _bonhommie_
”Call me Daphne, call me Chloris, Call me Lalage, or Doris, Only--_only_--call me thine!”
”It is really mortifying that I can't,” says Mrs. Steyne, while she and the others all laugh.
”Sir,” says Tom Steyne, ”I would have you remember the lady you are addressing is my wife.”
Says Taffy, reproachfully:
”Do you think I don't remember it,--to my sorrow?”
They have got down to dinner and as far as the fish by this time, so are all feeling friendly and good-natured.
”Tell you what you'll do, Mab,” says Guy. ”You shall come over here next week to stay with us, and bring baby and nurse with you,--and Tom, whether he likes it or not. We can give him as much good shooting as will cure him of his laziness.”
”Yes, Mabel, indeed you must,” breaks in Lady Chetwoode's gentle voice.
”I want to see that dear child very badly, and how can I notice all her pretty ways unless she stays in the house with me?”
”Say yes, Mrs. Steyne,” entreats Taffy: ”I shall die of grief if you refuse.”
”Oh, that! Yes, auntie, I shall come, thank you, if only to preserve Mr.--Taffy's life. But indeed I shall be delighted to get back to the dear old home for a while; it is so dull at Steynemore all by ourselves.”