Berry and Co Part 69

"Will he be all right?"--anxiously.

"He shall speak for himself," said I, releasing my patient.

With a galvanic squirm the latter regained his feet, spun into the air, gyrated till I felt dizzy, and then streaked round the tennis-lawn, his hind feet comically overreaching his fore, steering a zigzag course with such inconsequence as suggested that My Lord of Misrule himself was directing him by wireless.

It was not worth while finishing our interrupted game, so we strolled back to the house. At the top of the stairs we parted, to go and change.

Directly after lunch we were to leave for the fair.

Six days had elapsed since n.o.bby's scuffle with the apple of Mr. Bason's eye. Life had slipped by uneventfully. The Sealyham had been put upon a strict diet and was thoroughly groomed three times a day: my store of clean starched linen had dwindled to one shirt and two collars, which, distrusting my brother-in-law, I kept under lock and key: and Mr. Bason had been stung by our letter into sending a reply which afforded us the maximum of gratification. It ran as follows--

_SIR,_

_Your insulting letter to hand._

_I stand by every word of my previous letter._

_The sooner, therefore, that you realize that I am not to be trifled with, the better for all concerned._

_You are evidently one of those people who believe that impudent bluff will carry them anywhere, and that, with your birth and upbringing behind you, you can do as you please. But you are wrong. Among men who are men, as distinct from pedantic popinjays, you go for nothing.

Pshaw._

_HERBERT BASON.

B. PLEYDELL, Esq._

_P.S.--Be good enough to note that my dog's name is "Blue Bandala," not "Blue Banana."_

_H. B._

Our reply was dispatched within twenty-four hours.

_SIR,_

_Many thanks for your masterly appreciation of my character._

_We all think "pedantic popinjays" simply splendid. Is it your own?_

_Don't tell old Banana Skin, but I've had the nerve to enter my Sealyham for the "All Comers" event at Brooch._

_So glad you're not to be trifled with. Selah._

_Yours faithfully,_

_BERRY PLEYDELL.

H. BASON, Esq._

In two days' time we should meet at Philippi.

It must be confessed that there were moments when we remembered our precipitancy in some uneasiness. n.o.bby was well bred, but he had not cost six hundred pounds. Always he looked his best, and his best was extremely good. His many excellent points were set off by a most attractive air and a singular charm and sprightliness of manner. Every movement and pose was full of grace, and he had the brightest eyes that I have ever seen. But Blue Bandala was clearly a "show" animal. Could our little David beat this very Goliath among dogs, and that upon the latter's own ground? Could our little amateur take on a plus-four professional and beat him at his own game? There was no manner of doubt that angels would at least have walked delicately where we had rushed in. However, it was too late now. Even if we would, we could not draw back. Beyond doing what we could to keep him as fit as a fiddle, there was nothing to be done.

After a bath I put on a tweed suit, concealed my discarded and sole surviving pair of white trousers from the rapacious eye of a random housemaid, and descended to lunch.

An hour later Adele and n.o.bby and I were all in the Rolls, sailing along the soft brown roads _en route_ for Fallow Hill.

It was a day of great loveliness, and the forest ways were one and all beset with a rare glory.

Thirty-six hours before, the first frost of autumn had touched the breast of Earth with silver finger-tips. 'Twas but a runaway knock. The mischief-loving knave was gone again, before the bustling dame had braced herself to open to her pert visitor. Maybe the rogue was beating up his quarters. The time of his dreaded lodgment was not yet. His apprehensive hostess was full of smiles. Summer was staying on....

Yet on the livery of the countryside the accolade of Frost had wrought a wonder. Two days ago the world was green. To-day a million leaves glanced, green as before, yet with a new-found l.u.s.tre--something of red in it, something of gold, something of sober brown. But the wonder was not to the trees. It was the humble bracken that had been dubbed knight.

The homespun of the forest was become cloth of pure gold, glittering, flawless. In the twinkling of an eye the change had come. Here was an acre spread with the delicate fronds, and there a ragged mile, and yonder but shreds and patches--yet all of magic gold, flinging the sunlight back, lighting the shadows, making the humblest ride too rich for kings to trample till the green roofs and walls looked dull beside it, and the ephemeral magnificence took Memory by the throat and wrung a lease of life from that Reversioner.

"Tell me," I said, "of Mr. Bason. He interests me, and I've never seen him."

"Mr. Bason," said Adele, "is short and fat and--yes, I'm afraid he's greasy. He has bright yellow hair and a ridiculous moustache, which is brushed up on end on each side of his nostrils. He has very watery pale blue eyes, and all the blood in his face seems to have gone to his nose."

"Muscular rheumatism," I suggested.

"I guess so. Of course, he knows best, and I don't pretend to say what men should wear, but white flannel suits aren't becoming to every figure, are they? Most of the rest of him was mauve--shirt, socks and handkerchief. Oh, and he had a tie on his pin."

"But how lovely!"

"Yes, but you should have smelt the lilac. He was just perfumed to death. If he isn't careful, one of these days he'll get picked."

"One of the old school, in fact. Well, well...." We swept round a corner, and I nodded ahead. "See that ridge in front of us? Well, that's Fallow Hill. The village lies close, just on the other side."

"What are you going to do with the car?" said Adele.

"They'll let me lock her up--don't be shocked--at the brewery. I know them there."

"You'll admit it sounds bad."

"Yes, but it smells lovely. You wait. For that reason alone, I should vote against Prohibition. The honest scent of brewing, stealing across the meadows on a summer eve, is one of the most inspiring things I know."

"But what a man!" said Adele. "'Books in the running brooks, _Virtue in vats_, and good in everything.' n.o.bby," she added reproachfully, "why didn't you tell me he was a poet?" The Sealyham put his head on one side, as if desiring her to repeat the question. "Oh, you cute thing!"

And, with that, my lady bent and kissed the terrier between the bright brown eyes.

I put the wheel over hard, and the car swerved violently.

"For Heaven's sake!" cried Miss Feste. "What are you doing?"

"It's your fault," said I. "I'm only human. Besides, he doesn't deserve it."

Adele flung me a dazzling smile, made as though she would say something, and then, apparently changing her mind, relapsed into a provoking silence....

A quarter of an hour later the Rolls had been safely bestowed at the brewery, and my companion and I were making our way amusedly past booths and tents and caravans, where chapmen, hucksters, drovers, cheapjacks, gipsies and bawling showmen wrangled and chaffered and cried their wares or entertainments, making with the crude music of the merry-go-rounds much the same good-humoured uproar which had been faithfully rendered at the village of Fallow Hill every September for the last five hundred years.

"Blessings on your sweet pretty face, my lady!" cried an old voice.