Sir Hilton's Sin Part 41

"What's he saying, darling?" cried Syd, impatiently.

"Not much, young gentleman; only telling her to mind now you have brought her home as she has her rights."

Syd caught his young wife's hands and hurried her into the hall, and from thence into the drawing-room, where he found his uncle impatiently walking up and down.

"Oh, it's you, Syd," said the baronet, impatiently. "Call Jane, there's a confounded cat in the conservatory. Just knocked down one of the pots."

"All right, uncle," said the boy. "You sit down there, Molly," he whispered, "and look here, you must help me when your father comes in.

He would drive over, and kept on insisting to me that he couldn't let me come alone with uncle; but it was only to show off before auntie."

"Yes, I know; he's been preaching to me. Where is she?"

"Sitting up for us somewhere, pet," said Syd. "Here she comes. Back me up, and be nice," he whispered, "and then make your guv'nor take you home. You know how."

"Yes, Syd dear," whispered the girl; "but I'm awful tired, you know."

"Pst! Oh, it's you, Jane."

"Yes, sir. I'll light that lamp if you'll stand aside."

"Oh, yes, do. It's beastly dark."

Jane began lighting up and stealing glances full of admiration as she handled match after match slowly, every glance affording her satisfaction, especially when the hood of the cloak Molly wore was thrown back and the girl gave her a pleasant, admiring smile, and showed a pair of laughing eyes and a set of pearly teeth.

"Why, it's master's biking young lady," said Jane to herself, in astonishment. "There'll be a row after this."

"Where's auntie, Jane?" said Syd, suddenly.

"Not come back from Tilborough yet, sir," replied the girl, snappishly.

Sir Hilton, who was still walking up and down, turned sharply at the words "auntie" and "Tilborough"; but he said nothing, only pa.s.sed his hand in a fidgety way over his forehead and continued his wild-beast-like walk, muttering every now and then to himself, till he stopped suddenly close to the young couple, who were whispering together.

"Tackle him directly he comes in, pet," Syd was saying.

"But dad's so obstinate, Syd. You give him a good talking-to. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not--not a bit; but I don't want to have a row just at present."

"But it's got to be done, Syd dear. You have a good go at dad. Tell him it's of no use for him to kick, and he must make the best of it."

"Yes, yes, I will, pet; but in the middle of the night like this? I want to get uncle to bed. He's very queer yet."

"Yes, he does look groggy," said the girl, innocently; "but you needn't be in such a hurry to get rid of me now I am here."

"I am not, darling. I should like to keep you here--always; only uncle isn't fit to talk to yet."

"He does look dazy. I say, Syd, he does understand that we are married?"

"No, pet, he hasn't an idea."

"What a shame!" cried the girl. "You said you'd tell him at once."

"Look at him! What's the good of telling him now, when every word would roll off him like water from a duck's back, and not one go in?"

"I don't know; try. If you don't, I shall. There, I will," cried the girl, and starting up before Syd could stop her, she planted herself theatrically before Sir Hilton, and with an arch look, and her eyes twinkling, she laid a hand upon the baronet's arm, saying--

"Please, Sir Hilton, shall I do?"

He stared at her wonderingly for some moments.

"Eh?" he said. "Do? Who is it?"

"Miss Simpkins, Sir Hilton. You know--La Sylphide."

Sir Hilton laid his left hand upon his forehead, and gazed at the girl thoughtfully.

"La Sylphide?" he said at last. "Did she win?"

"Yes, Sir Hilton, by three lengths," cried the girl, eagerly; "but, please, don't you know me?"

"No," said Sir Hilton, shaking his head. "No."

"There, I told you so," whispered Syd. "He's quite off his nut."

"But I'm your niece, Sir Hilton," persisted the girl, pressing up to him, as if asking for an avuncular kiss; "and I'm Mrs Sydney Smithers."

"Yes," said Sir Hilton, thoughtfully, as Syd took his young wife's announcement as his cue to rise, and stood by her ready to receive a share of the coming blessing--or the other thing.

"Thank you, yes," said Sir Hilton, dreamily. "Yes, I know you now. La Sylphide, the mare, won, and you are La Sylphide too, the pretty little girl at the big music-hall who called herself after my mare. Thank you, Miss Simpkins. I hope you won a pair of gloves."

"Oh, dear!" cried the girl, pouting; "he don't understand a bit. I suppose, Syd, we must wait till he comes round. But do you think it was our champagne that made him so ill? Oh, here's dad. Daddy dear, Sir Hilton's quite off his head still."

"Yes, my gal, I know."

"But do you think our champagne was bad enough to make him as queer as this?"

"What!" roared the trainer, with his face turning mottled. "No, cert'n'y not. Hold your tongue! Well, Sir Hilton, how are you now?"

"Never better, Sam! never better. A little thick in the head only. You need not trouble any more about me."

"Oh, but I do, Sir Hilton."

"Nonsense, man!" said the baronet, drawing himself up. "I'm quite right. I can't understand how it was you persisted in coming, and bringing your charming daughter with you all this way, and at so late an hour. Why, it must be getting on for ten."

"For ten, Sir Hilton?" cried Simpkins, with a chuckle, and, to the baronet's surprise, he dropped into a lounge.

"Don't scold father, uncle," said the girl, with a little emphasis on the last word, whose effect was to make the gentleman addressed lay his fidgety left hand once more upon his forehead. "I wanted to come, you know."

"Eh? Very good of you," said Sir Hilton, politely; "and I shall make a point of telling Lady Lisle how kind and attentive you were at your house during my little indisposition. It was the sun, I feel sure."