Part 36 (1/2)

”It may influence you somewhat,” says he, ”to learn that for nearly a year Ferdinand has been secretly engaged to a very estimable young woman.”

”I know,” says she, tearin' off a little giggle. ”Ferdy has told me all about Alicia. What a wicked, deceitful wretch he is! isn't he?

Aren't you ashamed, Ferdy, to act so foolish over me?”

If Ferdy was, he hid it well. All he seemed willin' to do was to sit there, holdin' her hand and lookin' as soft as a custard pie, while the Lady Williamsburg tells what a tough job she has dodgin' matrimony, on account of her yieldin' disposition. I didn't know whether to hide my face in my hat, or go out and lean over the rail. I guess the Bishop wa'n't feelin' any too comfortable either; but he was there to do his duty, so he makes one last stab.

”Ferdinand,” says he, ”your mother asked me to say that----”

”Tell her I was never so happy in my life,” says Ferdy, pattin' a broadside of solitaires and marquise rings.

”Come on, Bishop,” says I. ”There's only one cure for a complaint of that kind, and it looks like Ferdy was bound to take it.”

We was just startin' for the deck, when the door was blocked by a steward luggin' in another sheaf of roses, and followed by a couple of middle aged, jolly lookin' gents, smokin' cigars and marchin' arm in arm. One was a tall, well built chap in a silk hat; the other was a short, p.u.s.s.y, ruby beaked gent in French flannels and a Panama.

”h.e.l.lo, sweety!” says the tall one.

”Peekaboo, dearie!” sings out the other.

”d.i.c.k! Jimmy!” squeals Madam Brooklini, givin' a hand to each of 'em, and leavin' Ferdy holdin' the air. ”Oh, how delightfully thoughtful of you!”

”Tried to ring in old Grubby, too,” says d.i.c.k; ”but he couldn't get away. He chipped in for the flowers, though.”

”Dear old Grubby!” says she. ”Let's see, he was my third, wasn't he?”

”Why, dearie!” says d.i.c.ky boy, ”I was Number Three. Grubby was your second.”

”Really!” says she. ”But I do get you so mixed. Oh!” and then she remembers Ferdy. ”Ducky, dear,” she goes on, ”I do want you to know these gentlemen--two of my former husbands.”

”Wha-a-at!” gasps Ferdy, his eyes buggin' out.

I hears the Bishop groan and flop on a seat behind me. Honest, it was straight! d.i.c.k and Jimmy was a couple of discards, old Grubby was another, and inside of a minute blamed if she hadn't mentioned a fourth, that was planted somewhere on the other side. Course, for a convention there wouldn't have been a straight quorum; but there was enough answerin' roll call to make it pa.s.s for a reunion, all right.

And it was a peach while it lasted. The pair of has-beens didn't have long to stay, one havin' to get back to Chicago and the other bein'

billed to start on a yachtin' trip. They'd just run over to say by-by; and tell how they was plannin' an annual dinner, with the judges and divorce lawyers for guests. Yes, yes, they was a jolly couple, them two! All the Bishop could do was lay back and fan himself as he listens, once in awhile whisperin' to himself, ”My, my!” As for Ferdy, he looked like he'd been hypnotised and was waitin' to be woke up.

The pair was sayin' good-bye for the third and last time, when in rushes a high strung, nervous young feller with a pencil behind his ear and a pad in his hand.

”Well, Larry, what is it now?” snaps out Madam Brooklini, doin' the lightnin' change act with her voice. ”I am engaged, you see.”

”Can't help it,” says Larry. ”Got fourteen reporters and eight snapshot men waiting to do the sailing story for the morning editions.

Shall I bring 'em up?”

”But I am entertaining two of my ex-husbands,” says the lady, ”and----”

”Great!” says Larry. ”We'll put 'em in the group. Who's the other?”

”Oh, that's only Ferdy,” says she. ”I haven't married him yet.”

”Bully!” says Larry. ”We can get half a column of s.p.a.ce out of him alone. He goes in the pictures too. We'll label him 'Next,' or 'Number Five Elect,' or something like that. Line 'em up outside, will you?”