The Brother of Daphne Part 43

"I say," she said suddenly, "what about dinner?"

"Dinner!" I exclaimed. "Oh, dinner's gone right out. Simply not done in the best circles. Dinner indeed. My dear, you surprise me!"

"Ah, but you see I don't move in the best circles. I'm only very common and vulgar and actually get hungry sometimes. Shocking, isn't it?"

"Never mind," I said encouragingly. "You are still young. If you begin to break off this indecent habit--"

"It seems I have begun. It's a quarter to nine. You know it is awful.

If you had told me yesterday that to-night I should be sitting shut up in a horseless brougham at the back of an inn, alone with a strange man ma.s.saging my foot, I should have--"

"Of course you would. But there you are, la.s.s, you never know your luck."

She looked at me darkly.

"Needs must when the devil drives," she said.

I looked at her.

"My skin may be thick," said I, "but it's not impenetrable. But you knew that."

With a light laugh she laid a hand on my arm.

"Don't be silly, lad, but put my shoe on again."

As I fitted it on, I heard footsteps in the yard outside.

Instinctively we both shrank back into the brougham. It was quite dark now. Then a stable door grated and I heard a horse move.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"Some ostler, I expect."

"What's he going to do?"

"I forget for the moment," said I. "I ought to know, too," I added reflectively. "Wait a minute, I will consult the oracle."

So saying I made a pa.s.s or two and gazed intently into the gloom.

"Idiot," she murmured.

"Hush," I said. "Do not speak to the man at the wheel, and, above all, refrain from disconcerting the beer---- I mean seer. What do I see?

A man--let him pa.s.s for a man--in motion. He moves. Yes," I said excitedly, "yes, it is a stable. The man moves across the stable. Lo, he leads forth a horse. There now." I turned to her triumphantly.

"The horse you fancy, madam, will also run, and the--ah--fee is one guinea. You don't fancy any horse, madam? Ah, but you will. Very soon too. Sooner, perhaps, than you---- But you can't help it, madam.

The crystal cannot lie. Pleasant weather we're having, aren't we? No, I'm afraid I haven't change for a note, but I could send it on, madam.

On. On Monday you for instance--"

"Stop, stop," she said, laughing and putting a little hand on my wrist.

"Listen. Oh, I say."

A horse was undoubtedly led out of the stable. Breathlessly we heard it come across the yard, and the next moment we felt rather than saw it put between the shafts of our brougham.

My companion uttered a stifled cry and set a hand upon the door handle.

"Sit still, la.s.s," I whispered; "for the love of Heaven, sit still.

He's going to drive us away."

"Oh, lad."

"We are in luck."

"But where are we going?"

"Heaven knows. But away from the bees, any way."

The horse was harnessed at last. The lamps were lighted--the while we cowered in the depths of the brougham, the coachman mounted heavily upon the box and we rolled slowly out of the yard.

Round to the left we swung, away from White Ladies, slowly into the village and to the left again. I kept my companion informed as to our whereabouts.

"That's right," I said, "there's the butcher's. Splendid meat he sells--I beg his pardon--purveys. Wears wonderfully well. Always follows the hounds on one of his own saddles. And there's the tobacconist. You should see the plugs he keeps. I've got one I use as a paper-weight. We used to think it was a piece of the original Atlantic cable. I've had it years now, and it's still going strong--very strong. It makes rather a good paperweight, imparts a homely soupcon of farmyard life into one's correspondence, you know.

The P.M. had to give up reading my letters--said they made him feel as if he'd gone to the country. Ah, we are now within a stone's throw of the church--a n.o.ble edifice, complete with one bell. Hullo! Stand by with that ankle, la.s.s; we're going to the doctor's. You'll like him rather. Incompetent, but genial. Shouldn't wonder if he wants to paint your foot. He is a bit of an artist in his way. When I cut my head open last year, he painted the place all over with some of his stuff. It certainly healed all right, but the way the wasps followed me--I might have been a private view. Now for it. You stand on the steps quite naturally, and I'll manage the driver."

As we drew up to the porch, I opened the door of the vehicle and handed her out. Then I closed the door very carefully and looked at the coachman. His eyes were protruding from his head, and he recoiled as I laid a hand the box.

"How much?" I said carelessly.

A choking sound came from between his lips, and the the next moment he had flung off the opposite side and was peering into the depths of the brougham. When he had felt all over the cushions, he shut the door and came and looked at me over the back of the horse.

"Well, I'm drat--"

"Not yet," I said. "Don't antic.i.p.ate. How much?"

"Six months' 'ard, I should say," he replied slowly, "and let down easy at that, gettin' into a private broom wiv yeller wheels an' frightenin'

an honest man out of his blooming life. Look at the perspiration on my forehead."

He took off his hat, and bent his head toward the lamp, that my view might be the better.

"I had already noticed that you were rather hot," I said shortly, "but had in error attributed it to the clemency of the weather. But pray be covered. I would not have your blood also upon my soul. The air strikes cold."

"Go hon," he said with ponderous sarcasm. "Go hon. Hi am all ears."

"No, no," I said hastily, "not all. Do yourself justice, man."

"Justice," he said bitterly. "Justice. I wonder you 'ave the face to--"

"Be thankful that one of us has a face to have," I said shortly.

"Among other maladies you suffer from irritation of the palm. Yes?"

He stared at me.