In
Mrs. Bobby's chamber from the small wooden cage it inhabited, close
the windows, and leave it at large in the room; then bring out the
cage and sell it to the lady.)
"Very well, then, please select me a good singer for about twelve
shillings; a very yellow one, please."
I did so. I had no difficulty about the colour; but as the birds
all stopped singing when I put my hand into the cages, I was
somewhat at a loss to choose a really fine performer. I did my
best, with the result that it turned out to be the mother of several
fine families, but no vocalist, and the generous young man brought
it back for an exchange some days afterwards; not only that, but he
came three times during the next week and nearly ruined his nervous
system with tea.
The party finally mounted the char-a-bancs, just as I was about to
offer the baby for twenty-five pounds, and dirt cheap at that.
Meanwhile I gave the driver a cup of lukewarm tea, for which I
refused absolutely to accept any remuneration.
I had cleared the tables before Mrs. Bobby returned, flushed and
panting, with the guilty cow. Never shall I forget that good dame's
astonishment, her mild deprecations, her smiles - nay, her tears - as
she inspected my truly English account and received the silver.
s. d.
Nine teas . . . . 3 6
Cream . . . . 7
Bread-and-butter . . 1 6
Extra teas. . . . 9
Marmalade . . . . 6
Three tips. . . . 2 0
Four roses and mignonette. 1 8
Three carnations . . 6
Canary . . . . 12 0
Cage . . . . 1 0
- - -
24 0
I told her I regretted deeply putting down the marmalade so low as
sixpence; but as they had not touched it, it did not matter so much,
as the entire outlay for the entertainment had been only about a
shilling. On that modest investment, I considered one pound three
shillings a very fair sum to be earned by an inexperienced 'licensed
victualler' like myself, particularly as I am English only by
adoption, and not by birth.
Chapter XXV. Et ego in Arcadia vixit.
I essayed another nap after this exciting episode. I heard the gate
open once or twice, but a single stray customer, after my hungry and
generous horde, did not stir my curiosity, and I sank into a
refreshing slumber, dreaming that Willie Beresford and I kept an
English inn, and that I was the barmaid. This blissful vision had
been of all too short duration when I was awakened by Mrs. Bobby's
apologetic voice.
"It is too bad to disturb you, miss, but I've got to go and patch up
the fence, and smooth over the matter of the turnips with Mrs.
Gooch, who is that snorty I don't know 'ow ever I can pacify her.
There is nothing for you to do, miss, only if you'll kindly keep an
eye on the customer at the yew-tree table. He's been here for 'alf
an hour, miss, and I think more than likely he's a foreigner, by his
actions, or may be he's not quite right in his 'ead, though
'armless. He has taken four cups of tea, miss, and Billy saw him
turn two of them into the 'olly'ocks. He has been feeding bread-
and-butter to the dog, and now the baby is on his knee, playing with
his fine gold watch. He gave me a 'alf-a-crown and refused to take
a penny change; but why does he stop so long, miss? I can't help
worriting over the silver cream-jug that was my mother's."
Mrs. Bobby disappeared. I rose lazily, and approached the window to
keep my promised eye on the mysterious customer. I lifted back the
purple clematis to get a better view.
It was Willie Beresford! He looked up at my ejaculation of
surprise, and, dropping the baby as if it had been a parcel, strode
under the window.
I(gasping). "How did you come here?"
He. "By the usual methods, dear."
I. "You shouldn't have come without asking. Where are all your
fine promises? What shall I do with you? Do you know there isn't
an hotel within four miles?"
He. "That is nothing; it was four hundred miles that I couldn't
endure. But give me a less grudging welcome than this, though I am
like a starving dog that will snatch any morsel thrown to him! It
is really autumn, Penelope, or it will be in a few days. Say you
are a little glad to see me."
(The sight of him so near, after my weeks of loneliness, gave me a
feeling so sudden, so sweet, and so vivid that it seemed to smite me
first on the eyes, and then in the heart; and at the first note of
his convincing voice Doubt picked up her trailing skirts and fled
for ever.)
I. "Yes, if you must know it, I am glad to see you; so glad,
indeed, that nothing in the world seems to matter so long as you are
here."
He (striding a little nearer, and looking about involuntarily for a
ladder). "Penelope, do you know the penalty of saying such sweet
things to me?"
I. "Perhaps it is because I know the penalty that I'm committing
the offence. Besides, I feel safe in saying anything in this
second-story window."
He. "Don't pride yourself on your safety unless you wish to see me
transformed into a nineteenth-century Romeo, to the detriment of
Mrs. Bobby's creepers. I can look at you for ever, dear, in your
pink gown and your purple frame, unless I can do better. Won't you
come down?"
I. "I like it very much up here."
He. "You would like it very much down here, after a little.
