The Man with the Double Heart Part 15

CHAPTER IX

Ebenezer Cadell was one of those men--daily becoming more rare--who, after a life of strenuous work, can face, at breakfast, a mutton chop.

In this nervous age the fact in itself stands for an attribute of success. For next to money a good digestion will thrust an ambitious man far.

He did not even take his chop in obedience to his doctor's wishes, but out of a healthy appet.i.te for that peculiar delicacy. He liked it as a second course, after eggs or fish or bacon, rather underdone and large, remembering lean years of porridge.

Breakfast over, he filled his pipe before the fire, where his boots were warming, and steeped his soul in the Liberal papers with the air of governing the Empire.

Mrs. Cadell, naturally, took in the _Morning Post_ to keep in touch with that social world where names mean more than personal effort.

Cydonia was given the _Daily Mirror_, generally left unread by her and devoured in the Servants' Hall. Once a week _Punch_ arrived and an unwieldy Ladies' journal, while into the depths of the smoking-room was smuggled a certain apricot paper.

On this particular winter morning the master of the house had failed to find the notice of a sale in his beloved _Chronicle_. Slightly aggrieved, he made his way into the morning-room beyond, where Helen was occupied poring over household matters. He begged the loan of those crisp sheets, white and pleasant to the touch, that seem to hold a faint suggestion of the cla.s.s they represent.

He was leaving the room when his wife turned and stopped him with an imperious gesture.

"Can you spare me a moment, Ebenezer?" The request was in truth a command. "I want to talk about Cydonia?"

Cadell, unwillingly, glanced at the clock.

"Well--five minutes--if that will do. What's the trouble about, my dear? Hope there's nothing wrong with the child?"

"Oh, no. I'm thinking of giving a dance. Cydonia's birthday falls next month. It would be a 'coming-out' affair and I want it--naturally--well done."

"Quite right. Dear me!"--the man sighed. "It seems only the other day she was running about in pinafores! I can't think of her as grown-up."

The tender look came into his face that only his daughter could evoke.

Mrs. Cadell saw it and smiled, as he added in his pompous manner:

"If it's a question of money, my dear, you needn't spare it. Order the best. I'll settle the bills."

"Thank you. There'll be a good deal to arrange ... But since you approve I'll take it in hand."

The old man lingered at the door.

"Who are you going to invite?" he asked--"You're not counting on me for men?"

"Oh, no!"--She spoke hurriedly, with a faint note of satire he knew full well--"But I'm counting on you for good champagne."

"H'm ... I see. But I always thought it didn't matter much at a dance--more quant.i.ty than quality."

"A popular mistake," said Helen, "or rather most _un_popular! It's like this"--she explained--"we don't know many dancing-men--at least not of the kind I want! But it's quite easy nowadays. You ask people to make up parties. Only they're not _your_ guests, you see, but friends of the people who dine and bring them; and they feel they can grumble openly at any flaw in the entertainment. So I want the arrangements and the wine--(it's more important than the food) to be quite--well, above suspicion. _Then_, you see," she smiled enigmatically, "the men will come again--by themselves."

Ebenezer's face grew red.

"I'd like to see them grumble here! Dash it all!--we make no charge--it's _my_ hospitality."

He bristled visibly at the thought.

"That counts for nothing nowadays." Helen's voice was quite composed.

"They come to enjoy themselves--for what they can get out of it! The only people who can give small parties and consider themselves the attraction are artists or Royalty. They can _afford_ simplicity."

"H'm!--A pretty state of affairs. And what about Cydonia? You'd think any man would be proud to dance with my lovely girl."

"Ah! you're her father." Helen laughed. "I don't say, mind, that I approve of the present-day att.i.tude. But the fact remains that the modern youth considers that his presence at a party confers a favour ... and, in return, he demands a first-cla.s.s entertainment."

She met his eyes, smiled again, and turned to her desk with an air of dismissal.

"What about presenting the child? I'd like that done, you know, Helen.

It don't mean much to my mind to bob down before Royalty, but I gather it's a sort of hall-mark."

He gave a gruff, contented laugh.

"That will come later," said Mrs. Cadell. "I was talking to Lady Leason about it, and she knows of a certain friend of hers who arranges these little matters. For a consideration, of course."

"I didn't know you had to pay?" Ebenezer was interested. Secretly he admired his wife's steady a.s.sault on Society.

"My dear, one pays for everything. Look at the people who get honours!

It will mean, I should say, about three figures to get a well-known name to present her--a t.i.tled woman of good standing; and then there will be Lady Leason's present--and the commission..." She knit her brows. "Anyhow, Cydonia's worth it."

"That she is--bless her pretty face! She's the crowning gem of my collection! And I mean her to make a fine marriage! If it costs me every penny I've got."

He turned his sharp, near-set eyes shrewdly on Helen's countenance.

"What's this young man who's always around? McTaggart, I think, is his precious name. A tall fellow with blue eyes and a d.a.m.ned cool manner when I meet him!"

"He's all right," said the mother quickly, "and rather useful just now.

He's a great friend of Lady Leason's and moves in a very good set."

"Well--don't allow any nonsense there. He don't come here to see _me_!

And he don't seem to do any work--I can't stand his 'haw, haw' style."

The door banged behind him loudly.

Mrs. Cadell took up her pen, but held it a moment, absently, gazing out on the Mayfair street, empty at this early hour.

Did her daughter like McTaggart? That was the question she asked herself. Was his society the reason that Cydonia of late had seemed to quicken, to lose her slumbering childish calm?

And if so...? She frowned at the thought. Then she sighed. Ebenezer was right. But the mother-love warred within her with the ambition of her life. All the happiness she had missed!--she reached for it with nervous hands, longing to pile it, height on height, into the lap of her only child.

And, as if her thoughts had drawn the girl, Cydonia, that moment, entered the room.

"Am I disturbing you, Madre, dear?"

She stood there, radiant, in coat and hat; the fair face full of life, an eager look in the soft brown eyes. There seemed a little suppressed air of excitement in her bearing.