Part 17 (1/2)

Sir Tancred's stern face relaxed into one of his rare and charming smiles. ”Very good,” he said. ”You shall adopt her.”

”Thank you, sir,” said Tinker, and his smile matched his father's.

”And may I have some money to dress her? Her clothes are dreadful.”

”They are,” said Sir Tancred; and, taking out his notecase, he gave him a thousand-franc note.

”Thank you,” said Tinker, beaming. ”I'll break it to her about her uncle.”

He hurried off towards the Condamine, and overtaking Elsie and Lord Crosland, told her that it was all right, that they had arranged to take care of her for a few days, and carried her away to fetch Blazer, for his morning walk. It is to be feared that he gave her the impression that her uncle had been a party to the arrangement, but by a flood of talk he diverted successfully her mind from the matter. From an unworthy jealousy Blazer was at first disposed to sniff at Elsie, but when he found that she joined heartily in the few poor amus.e.m.e.nts the place afforded an honest dog, he became more gracious. The children made their dejeuner with Sir Tancred and Lord Crosland, and after it, having restored the reluctant Blazer to his lodging in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the hotel, they took the train to Nice.

Tinker hired the largest commissionaire at the station and bought a small trunk, which he gave him to carry. Then he went straight to Madame Aline's and, having insisted on seeing Madame herself, explained that the bright and elaborate fas.h.i.+ons affected by the little French girls would not suit Elsie.

Madame agreed with him, but said, ”Simplicity is so expensive.”

Tinker waved away the consideration, and showed Madame the thousand-franc note. At once she fell a victim to his irresistible charm, and set about meeting his taste with the liveliest energy, with the result that in less than an hour Elsie was provided with an evening frock of an exquisite shade of heliotrope, an afternoon frock of no less exquisite shade of blue, and a hat, stockings, and gloves to match. They were packed in the trunk, and with them two pairs of shoes, which Madame sent for from a no less expensive bootmaker, and various other garments.

When they came out of her shop, Tinker considered for a while the hole he had made in the thousand-franc note, and said, ”The time has come to be economical.”

He examined the shops with a keen eye till he came to one which seemed more of the popular kind, and there he bought a frock of serge and three of dark-blue linen, stouter shoes, slippers, and two hats. Here he waited while Elsie changed, and when she came out, looking another creature, he said with a sigh of relief, ”I knew you'd look all right if you had a chance.”

They had ices at a cafe, and caught a train back to Monte Carlo. Elsie seemed dazed with her sudden wealth, while Tinker was full of a quiet, restful satisfaction. But it was in the evening that the great triumph came. When she came out of her room in her evening frock, Tinker regarded her for a moment with a satisfaction that was almost solemn, then he turned her round and said, ”We match.”

”Do you really think so?” said Elsie in an awed voice, with humid eyes.

”There's no doubt about it,” said Tinker, with calm, dispa.s.sionate, and judicial impartiality.

When they came into the restaurant there was a faint murmur of delighted surprise from the tables they pa.s.sed; and one stout, but sentimental baroness cried, ”Viola des seraphin!”

And truly, if you can conceive of a seraph in an Eton suit, a low-cut white waistcoat, and a white tie, there was something in what she said.

At the sight of them Sir Tancred smiled, and Lord Crosland said, ”I congratulate you on your taste, young people.”

”It was Tinker's,” said Elsie; and she looked at him with a world of thankfulness and devotion in her eyes.

After dinner Tinker was uncomfortable. He felt bound to break to Elsie her uncle's desertion, and he was afraid of tears. With a vague notion of emphasising the difference between her uncle's _regime_ and his own, he led the way to the corner of the gardens where they had first met and, standing before the seat on which she had waited so long and hungrily, he said, ”I say, don't you think we could do without your uncle?”

”Do without uncle?” said Elsie surprised.

”Yes; suppose, instead of living with your uncle and his looking after you, you lived with us, and I looked after you? Suppose you were to be my adopted sister?”

”For good and all?” said Elsie in a hushed voice.

”Yes.”

For answer she threw her arms round his neck, kissed him, and cried, ”Oh, I do love you so.”

By a splendid effort Tinker repressed a wriggle.