The Brother of Daphne Part 38

"At any rate," said I, "there'll be the telegram."

Half-way down the stairs Margery turned and ran back to the studio.

When she came back, she was smiling.

"What new mischief...?" I began.

She turned to me with a maddening smile and opened her mouth. Then she changed her mind and raised her eyebrows instead.

"This isn't fair," I said. "You can't ride with the herring and run with the beagles too."

But she would not tell me. Neither would she let me give her lunch.

"But the telegram," said I desperately. "You might let me--"

"I don't suppose you have tea, but if you do happen to be in St.

James's Street about a quarter to five..."

That afternoon she showed me the wire. It was as follows:

"Thousand apologies housekeeper's sudden illness detained me just learned my fool of servant misunderstood hasty instructions and refused you admission another thousand apologies two thousand in all writing."

We thought it was rather good.

The next morning I glanced at the clock and pushed back my chair.

"I must be off," I murmured.

Jonah raised his eyes and then looked at Berry. The latter's eyes were already raised. He had begun to sigh.

"What's the matter with you?" said I defiantly.

"One moment," said Berry. "My flesh is creeping. Now then. How many more of these sittings?"

"Wednesdays be the last, I think."

"Which means that she's leaving Town on Thursday."

I looked at him sharply. Then:

"What d'you mean, 'She'" I said shortly.

"I have known you for--"

"Less of it," said I. "Much less."

"You know, old chap," said Daphne lazily, "you do seem suspiciously keen about this portrait business, don't you?"

I looked at her. She returned my indignant gaze with a steady smile, her chin propped on her white hands, her elbows upon the table.

"Yes," said Jonah. "Afraid of being a minute late, and all that sort of bilge."

"This is an outrage," I gasped. This was nothing but the truth. It really was, They were simply drawing a bow at a venture.

"Don't tell me--" Berry began.

"I shan't," said I.

"Naughty temper," said my brother-in-law. "Has she sh.e.l.l-like ears?"

"Look here," I said, "all of you."

"Must we?" said Berry. "We've only just finished a heavy meal, and--"

"I have been five times to George's studio, each time solely with the object of affording him an opportunity, if possible, of perpetuating upon canvas my gripping personality." This was the whole truth.

"Guilty upon your own confession of felony," said Jonah. "Have you anything to say why the Court--"

"With the same object I am going to-day." This was the truth. George was going to give me an hour before Margery came.

"Perhaps we're wronging Boy," said Jill.

"Thank you, dear," said I.

"You can't wrong outlaws," said Berry. "Never mind. Some day we shall know the ter-ruth."

"I believe you're jealous," said I. "Just because you can't find an artist sufficiently dauntless to reproduce your brutal physiognomy--"

"He means to be rude," Berry explained.

I walked to the door.

"Don't forget our lunch, old chap," said my sister.

"You've taken away my appet.i.te," said I.

"Oh, Boy, you know we love you."

I opened the door.

"I say," said Berry.

"What?" said I, pausing.

"Tell George to put in the warts."

Six weeks had hurried away. And then, one morning, I got a note from George, saying that he had had my picture framed and was sending it along. I broke the news to the others after breakfast.

"Oh, Boy!" cried Jill excitedly.