The Reverberator Part 16

XII

Her absence had not been long and when she re-entered the familiar salon at the hotel she found her father and sister sitting there together as if they had timed her by their watches, a prey, both of them, to curiosity and suspense. Mr. Dosson however gave no sign of impatience; he only looked at her in silence through the smoke of his cigar--he profaned the red satin splendour with perpetual fumes--as she burst into the room. An irruption she made of her desired reappearance; she rushed to one of the tables, flinging down her m.u.f.f and gloves, while Delia, who had sprung up as she came in, caught her closely and glared into her face with a "Francie Dosson, what HAVE you been through?" Francie said nothing at first, only shutting her eyes and letting her sister do what she would with her. "She has been crying, poppa--she HAS," Delia almost shouted, pulling her down upon a sofa and fairly shaking her as she continued. "Will you please tell? I've been perfectly wild! Yes you have, you dreadful--!" the elder girl insisted, kissing her on the eyes.

They opened at this compa.s.sionate pressure and Francie rested their troubled light on her father, who had now risen to his feet and stood with his back to the fire.

"Why, chicken," said Mr. Dosson, "you look as if you had had quite a worry."

"I told you I should--I told you, I told you!" Francie broke out with a trembling voice. "And now it's come!"

"You don't mean to say you've DONE anything?" cried Delia, very white.

"It's all over, it's all over!" With which Francie's face braved denial.

"Are you crazy, Francie?" Delia demanded. "I'm sure you look as if you were."

"Ain't you going to be married, childie?" asked Mr. Dosson all considerately, but coming nearer to her.

Francie sprang up, releasing herself from her sister, and threw her arms round him. "Will you take me away, poppa? will you take me right straight away?"

"Of course I will, my precious. I'll take you anywhere. I don't want anything--it wasn't MY idea!" And Mr. Dosson and Delia looked at each other while the girl pressed her face upon his shoulder.

"I never heard such trash--you can't behave that way! Has he got engaged to some one else--in America?" Delia threw out.

"Why if it's over it's over. I guess it's all right," said Mr. Dosson, kissing his younger daughter. "I'll go back or I'll go on. I'll go anywhere you like."

"You won't have your daughters insulted, I presume!" Delia cried. "If you don't tell me this moment what has happened," she pursued to her sister, "I'll drive straight round there and make THEM."

"HAVE they insulted you, sweetie?" asked the old man, bending over his child, who simply leaned on him with her hidden face and no sound of tears. Francie raised her head, turning round to their companion. "Did I ever tell you anything else--did I ever believe in it for an hour?"

"Oh well, if you've done it on purpose to triumph over me we might as well go home, certainly. But I guess," Delia added, "you had better just wait till Gaston comes."

"It will be worse when he comes--if he thinks the same as they do."

"HAVE they insulted you--have they?" Mr. Dosson repeated while the smoke of his cigar, curling round the question, gave him the air of putting it with placidity.

"They think I've insulted THEM--they're in an awful state--they're almost dead. Mr. Flack has put it into the paper--everything, I don't know what--and they think it's too wicked. They were all there together--all at me at once, weeping and wailing and gnashing their teeth. I never saw people so affected."

Delia's face grew big with her stare. "So affected?"

"Ah yes, I guess there's a good deal OF THAT," said Mr. Dosson.

"It's too real--too terrible; you don't understand. It's all printed there--that they're immoral, and everything about them; everything that's private and dreadful," Francie explained.

"Immoral, is that so?" Mr. Dosson threw off.

"And about me too, and about Gaston and my marriage, and all sorts of personalities, and all the names, and Mme. de Villepreux, and everything. It's all printed there and they've read it. It says one of them steals."

"Will you be so good as to tell me what you're talking about?" Delia enquired sternly. "Where is it printed and what have we got to do with it?"

"Some one sent it, and I told Mr. Flack."

"Do you mean HIS paper? Oh the horrid ape!" Delia cried with pa.s.sion.

"Do they mind so what they see in the papers?" asked Mr. Dosson. "I guess they haven't seen what I've seen. Why there used to be things about ME--"

"Well, it IS about us too--about every one. They think it's the same as if I wrote it," Francie ruefully mentioned.

"Well, you know what you COULD do!" And Mr. Dosson beamed at her for common cheer.

"Do you mean that piece about your picture--that you told me about when you went with him again to see it?" Delia demanded.

"Oh I don't know what piece it is; I haven't seen it."

"Haven't seen it? Didn't they show it to you?"

"Yes, but I couldn't read it. Mme. de Brecourt wanted me to take it--but I left it behind."

"Well, that's LIKE you--like the Tauchnitzes littering up our track.

I'll be bound I'd see it," Delia declared. "Hasn't it come, doesn't it always come?"

"I guess we haven't had the last--unless it's somewhere round," said Mr.

Dosson.

"Poppa, go out and get it--you can buy it on the boulevard!" Delia continued. "Francie, what DID you want to tell him?"

"I didn't know. I was just conversing. He seemed to take so much interest," Francie pleaded.

"Oh he's a deep one!" groaned Delia.

"Well, if folks are immoral you can't keep it out of the papers--and I don't know as you ought to want to," Mr. Dosson remarked. "If they ARE I'm glad to know it, lovey." And he gave his younger daughter a glance apparently intended to show that in this case he should know what to do.

But Francie was looking at her sister as if her attention had been arrested. "How do you mean--'a deep one'?"

"Why he wanted to break it off, the fiend!"

Francie stared; then a deeper flush leapt to her face, already mottled as with the fine footprints of the Proberts, dancing for pain. "To break off my engagement?"

"Yes, just that. But I'll be hanged if he shall. Poppa, will you allow that?"

"Allow what?"

"Why Mr. Flack's vile interference. You won't let him do as he likes with us, I suppose, will you?"

"It's all done--it's all done!" said Francie. The tears had suddenly started into her eyes again.

"Well, he's so smart that it IS likely he's too smart," her father allowed. "But what did they want you to do about it?--that's what _I_ want to know?"

"They wanted me to say I knew nothing about it--but I couldn't."

"But you didn't and you don't--if you haven't even read it!" Delia almost yelled.