The Girl on the Boat Part 29

"Great Heavens! Are you still imagining yourself in love with young Hignett?"

"Oh, no! I can see now that I was never in love with poor Eustace. I was thinking of a man I got engaged to on the boat!"

Mr. Bennett sat bolt upright in bed, and stared incredulously at his surprising daughter. His head was beginning to swim.

"Of course I've misunderstood you," he said. "There's a catch somewhere and I haven't seen it. But for a moment you gave me the impression that you had promised to marry some man on the boat!"

"I did!"

"But...!" Mr. Bennett was doing sums on his fingers. "Do you mean to tell me," he demanded, having brought out the answer to his satisfaction, "do you mean to tell me that you have been engaged to three men in three weeks?"

"Yes," said Billie in a small voice.

"Great G.o.dfrey! Er----?"

"No, only three."

Mr. Bennett sank back on to his pillow with a snort.

"The trouble is," continued Billie, "one does things and doesn't know how one is going to feel about it afterwards. You can do an awful lot of thinking afterwards, father."

"I'm doing a lot of thinking now," said Mr. Bennett with austerity. "You oughtn't to be allowed to go around loose!"

"Well, it doesn't matter. I shall never get engaged again. I shall never love anyone again."

"Don't tell me you are still in love with this boat man?"

Billie nodded miserably. "I didn't realise it till we came down here.

But, as I sat and watched the rain, it suddenly came over me that I had thrown away my life's happiness. It was as if I had been offered a wonderful jewel and had refused it. I seemed to hear a voice reproaching me and saying, 'You have had your chance. It will never come again!'"

"Don't talk nonsense!" said Mr. Bennett.

Billie stiffened. She had thought she had been talking rather well.

Mr. Bennett was silent for a moment. Then he started up with an exclamation. The mention of Eustace Hignett had stirred his memory.

"What's young Hignett got wrong with him?" he asked.

"Mumps."

"Mumps! Good G.o.d! Not mumps!" Mr. Bennett quailed. "I've never had mumps! One of the most infectious ... this is awful!... Oh, heavens! Why did I ever come to this lazar-house!" cried Mr. Bennett, shaken to his depths.

"There isn't the slightest danger, father, dear. Don't be silly. If I were you, I should try to get a good sleep. You must be tired after this morning."

"Sleep! If I only could!" said Mr. Bennett, and did so five minutes after the door had closed.

He awoke half an hour later with a confused sense that something was wrong. He had been dreaming that he was walking down Fifth Avenue at the head of a military bra.s.s band, clad only in a bathing suit. As he sat up in bed, blinking in the dazed fashion of the half-awakened, the band seemed to be playing still. There was undeniably music in the air. The room was full of it. It seemed to be coming up through the floor and rolling about in chunks all round his bed.

Mr. Bennett blinked the last fragments of sleep out of his system, and became filled with a restless irritability. There was only one instrument in the house which could create this infernal din--the orchestrion in the drawing-room, immediately above which, he recalled, his room was situated.

He rang the bell for Webster.

"Is Mr. Mortimer playing that--that d.a.m.ned gas-engine in the drawing-room?"

"Yes, sir. Tosti's 'Good-bye.' A charming air, sir."

"Go and tell him to stop it!"

"Very good, sir."

Mr. Bennett lay in bed and fumed. Presently the valet returned. The music still continued to roll about the room.

"I am sorry to have to inform you, sir," said Webster, "that Mr.

Mortimer declines to accede to your request."

"Oh, he said that, did he?"

"That is the gist of his remarks, sir."

"Very good! Then give me my dressing-gown!"

Webster swathed his employer in the garment indicated, and returned to the kitchen, where he informed the cook that, in his opinion, the guv'nor was not a force, and that, if he were a betting man, he would put his money in the forthcoming struggle on Consul, the Almost-Human--by which affectionate nickname Mr. Mortimer senior was generally alluded to in the servants' hall.

Mr. Bennett, meanwhile, had reached the drawing-room, and found his former friend lying at full length on a sofa, smoking a cigar, a full dozen feet away from the orchestrion, which continued to thunder out its dirge on the pa.s.sing of Summer.

"Will you turn that infernal thing off!" said Mr. Bennett.

"No!" said Mr. Mortimer.

"Now, now, now!" said a voice.

Jane Hubbard was standing in the doorway with a look of calm reproof on her face.

"We can't have this, you know!" said Jane Hubbard. "You're disturbing my patient."

She strode without hesitation to the instrument, explored its ribs with a firm finger, pushed something, and the orchestrion broke off in the middle of a bar. Then, walking serenely to the door, she pa.s.sed out and closed it behind her.

The baser side of his nature urged Mr. Bennett to triumph over the vanquished.

"Now, what about it!" he said, ungenerously.

"Interfering girl!" mumbled Mr. Mortimer, chafing beneath defeat. "I've a good mind to start it again."

"I dare you!" whooped Mr. Bennett, reverting to the phraseology of his vanished childhood. "Go on! I dare you!"

"I've a perfect legal right.... Oh well," he said, "there are lots of other things I can do!"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mr. Bennett, alarmed.