Part 27 (1/2)

”You can come too, if you like.”

”Hardly worth while, I'm afraid. I have to pack my bag and get some tea, and then I shall be due at the station.”

”I thought your bag was packed already. You were to have gone by the twelve train, you know,” said Elsie rather doubtfully.

”Yes,” said Cullyngham easily, ”but you forgot I had to unpack again to get out my golfing shoes. Now, I'll tell you what,” he continued rapidly. ”They are going to give me tea in the conservatory before I go: won't you stay and pour it out for me? Just five minutes--_please_!”

Elsie felt that she could hardly in decency refuse, and accompanied Cullyngham to the house and thence to the conservatory, where the maid who brought the tea informed them of the glorious downfall of the County Eleven and of Pip's share therein.

This decided Elsie. She had no desire to appear in any scene where Pip was the central figure, so she accepted Cullyngham's pressing invitation to share his tea, and, sinking into a large armchair, prepared to spend an idle half-hour until popular enthusiasm on the cricket-ground should have abated. Pip was unconsciously proving the profound wisdom of the maxim which warns us to beware when all men speak well of us. He was paying the penalty of success. If he had been bowled first ball, or had missed three easy catches, Elsie, being a woman, would probably have melted and been kind to him. But to unbend to him now would savour of opportunism, hero-wors.h.i.+p, and other disagreeable things. Elsie set her small white teeth, frowned at an orange tree in a green tub, and prepared for a _tete-a-tete_. The house seemed deserted.

”Penny for your thoughts!” said Cullyngham.

Elsie smiled composedly.

”If they were only worth that I would make you a present of them,” she said. ”If they were worth more they would not be for sale.”

”Are they worth more?”

”I don't know, really. Anyhow, they are not on the market.” She drank some tea with a prim air, uncomfortably conscious that she was blus.h.i.+ng.

There was a short pause, and Cullyngham spoke again.

”I hope I'm not boring you,” he said, with a smile which took for granted the impossibility of the idea.

”Oh, dear, no. I'm seldom bored at meals.” Elsie took a bite out of a bun.

”Very well. Till you have finished tea I will keep quiet; after that I will endeavour to amuse you.”

The meal continued solemnly. Once or twice Elsie directed a furtive glance at the man beside her, and detected him eyeing her in a manner which made her feel hot and cold by turns. It was not that he was rude or objectionable, but Elsie suddenly felt conscious that Pip's open stare of honest admiration was infinitely less embarra.s.sing than this.

Cullyngham, as a matter of fact, was in a dangerous mood. His was not a pride that took a fall easily, and the fact that he had been compelled to submit to Pip's unconditional ultimatum was goading him to madness.

No man is altogether bad, but we are all possessed of our own particular devils, and Cullyngham accommodated more than his fair share of them. He had never denied himself the gratification of any pa.s.sion, however unworthy, and at that moment his one consuming desire was to retaliate upon the man who had humiliated him. He looked around the empty conservatory, and then again at the girl in the basket-chair beside him. He could punish Pip now in a most exquisite manner.

Elsie caught the glance, and for a moment was suddenly conscious of an emotion hitherto unknown to her--acute physical fear. But Cullyngham said lightly--

”Enjoyed your tea?”

”Yes, thanks,” she replied rather tremulously, putting down her cup.

”Then may I smoke?”

”Certainly. But I am going now.”

”Right, if you must. I'll just light my cigarette and see you to the end of the drive.”

Cullyngham produced a box of matches, and, with the paternal air of one endeavouring to amuse a child, performed various tricks with them. Then he lit a cigarette, and showed Elsie how, by doubling up your tongue, it is possible to grip the cigarette in the fold and draw it into your mouth, reproducing it, still lighted and glowing, a minute later.

”Quite a little exhibition!” said Elsie, at her ease again. ”You ought to set up as a conjurer. Now I must be off.”

”There is one other little trick with a match that might amuse you,”