Princess Mary's Gift Book Part 11

"Oh, I see!" he stammered. "Oh, well, it means--of course, you saw when you came in? It means that Kitty here--Miss Thorold, allow me to introduce you to my aunt. Mr. Thorold, my aunt, Lady Hawborough. Aunt Philippa, Mr. Thorold: he is the father of this young lady, Kitty here, who has done me the very great honour of promising to marry me. Sounds impossible; but it's true!"

Lady Hawborough stalked to the nearest chair and, with stately dignity seated herself on it, very much as a judge might take his place on the dreadful bench.

"Girl," she said, in her deepest tones, "why have you tricked, deceived me?"

Then, suddenly, as if influenced by a peculiar expression in Kitty's eyes, an expression which conveyed a kind of warning, her ladyship faltered, opened her lips once or twice, then said, in quite a different tone, indeed, almost meekly:

"This--this is quite a surprise. You will forgive me if I am a little upset. I think I ought to have been prepared. However, as you young people have taken the matter into your own hands----"

"Just what we have done, haven't we, Kitty?" exclaimed her lover, as if he were proclaiming the supernal wisdom of his relative.

"--there is no more to be said," concluded Lady Hawborough rather lamely. "At least, I should like to have a word or two with Miss--Miss Thorold--I mean, Kitty----"

"Outside, Eliza!" cried Harry, otherwise Archibald, joyously, as, catching the bewildered Mr. Thorold by the arm, he walked, almost danced, him out.

Kitty did not wait for any question.

"You see," she said, explaining the significance of her warning look, "it was just as well not to tell these foolish men everything. It might happen that if Harry--I mean Archibald--knew that you had meant to insist upon his marrying me--well, men get huffy so quickly, don't they?--he might refuse to do so now."

"Well, he might, but I don't think it's very likely, my dear," said Lady Hawborough; and she patted the little hand that lay on her knee. "But I think you are right. We will not say anything about--yesterday. You're a clever little thing," she added, kissing her.

"Can we come in?" demanded Harry, a few minutes later. "Aunt, we're all going up to the Floriani to get some lunch. Come with us, like a good soul!"

"The--Flo--Floriani! _What_ is it?" asked her ladyship fearsomely.

"It's a restaurant in Soho, where you get a thorough blow-out--I mean a Continental lunch--for one-and-nine," her nephew informed her. "Come on, Aunt Philippa!"

Lady Hawborough shuddered. "I should be delighted, Archibald dear, but--but I think you'd better all go round to Belgrave Square with me.

It--it would be safer."

It was after lunch, when the two young and silly lovers were in the very ante-room where Kitty had overheard Lady Hawborough's fell designs, that Kitty, holding his head back from her for a moment, asked:

"But why does she call you Archibald?"

"Because it's my name, or one of 'em," he replied. "Harry Archibald Stephen Fitzwilliam----"

"Oh, stop, stop! I shall feel as if I were marrying half a dozen men.

But you haven't told me _why_ she calls you Archibald; and has thus caused all this confusion!"

"Oh, because a lawyer chap who bolted with a lot of her money was called Henry; and, moreover, a bishop we've got in the family, and a chap my aunt's very proud of, is called Archibald."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"She'll have to drop that name, Harry," said Kitty firmly. "I can't bear it. Do you think she will?"

"I'm perfectly certain she will, if you've made up your mind she shall,"

he returned, with an air of profound conviction; "for it's plain to me you've captured the aunt as well as the nephew. Yes, it's a fair cop."

"She's a dear," murmured Kitty, very close to his ear.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Copyright in Great Britain, the Colonies, and the United States of America by Charles Garvice, 1914. Dramatic and other rights reserved.

THE LAND OF LET'SPRETEND

BY LADY SYBIL GRANT

_Painting and Drawings by_ ARTHUR RACKHAM, R.W.S.

I.--LET'SPRETEND

THIS country is not on the map, But sometimes, curled on Mother's lap, Or sitting in my bedtime bath, I wish that I could find the path.

THERE no one's ever called a dunce, And you eat jam and cake at once, Or chocolate and lemon squash, While n.o.body need ever wash.

MOTHERS have nothing else to do Except to kiss and cuddle you; And fathers need not "earn their bread,"

But stay and romp with you instead.

THERE are no girls: just men and boys And mothers; _all_ the shops sell toys; Just _every one_ plays Hide and Seek, And Christmas happens twice a week.

WHILE everybody has a car, Also a yacht, like Grandpapa, And lives in wigwams, tents, or huts, And owns a knife that really cuts.

BUT some things you can never find, However tired you make your mind; Like other things you never know For sure--if you try ever so.

JUST as: how G.o.d turns on the rain, So n.o.body can quite explain Exactly where the rainbows end.

And so it is with Let'spretend.

MY Father says that all his life With my Mamma (who is his wife) They've looked; and they are _very_ old.

My father's thirty, I've been told!

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"And they are _very_ old.

My father's thirty, I've been told!"]

II.--SUPPOSING

SUPPOSING one had been Shut up in Noah's Ark (During the flood, I mean)-- It would have been a lark!

THE animals, you know, Were not as they are now; _Quite_ different long ago-- Just see this purple cow!

THE lion, it seems, was pink, The bears and tigers too, While zebras had, I _think_, Most lovely stripes of blue.