"Elucidate," Mr. Marrapit commanded.
Mrs. Major put into a whisper:
"The day I came here."
Mr. Marrapit slowly moved his head towards her.
Her eyes were averted. "The time has pa.s.sed swiftly," he said.
Mrs. Major breathed: "For me it has flown on--on--" She searched wildly for a metaphor. "On wings," she concluded.
Again there was a pause, and again Mrs. Major felt that for this pa.s.sage to have fullest effect the word lay with Mr. Marrapit. But Mr.
Marrapit, himself considerably perturbed, did not speak. The moments sped. Fearful lest they should distance beyond recovery the sentiments she felt she had aroused, Mrs. Major hastened to check them.
She said musingly: "I wonder if they are right?"--sighed as though doubtful.
"To whom do you refer?"
"Why, the people who say that time flies when it is spent in pleasant company."
"They are correct," Mr. Marrapit affirmed.
"Oh, I do not doubt it for my part, Mr. Marrapit. I never knew what happiness was until I come here--came here. But if--" The masterly woman paused.
"Continue" Mr. Marrapit commanded.
The hard word was softly spoken. Mrs. Major"s heart gave two little thumps; her plan clear before her, pushed ahead. "But if to you also, Mr. Marrapit, the time has seemed to fly, then--then Mr. Marrapit, my company has--has been agreeable to you?"
Certainly there was a softness in Mr. Marrapit"s tones as he made answer.
"It has, Mrs. Major," he said, "it has. Into my establishment you have brought an air of peace that had for some time been lacking. Prior to your arrival, I was often worried by household cares that should not fall upon a man."
Earnestly Mrs. Major replied: "Oh, I _saw_ that. I strove to lift them."
"You have lifted them. You have attended not only my cats but my kitchen. I am now able often to enjoy such evenings as these. This peace around us ill.u.s.trates the tranquillity you have brought--"
The tranquillity was at that moment disastrously shattered. A bed of shrubbery lay within a few feet of where they sat. What had appeared to be a gnarled stump in its midst now quivered, broadened, fell into a line with the straightening back of Mr. Fletcher.
Mr. Marrapit was startled and annoyed. "What are you doing there, sir?"
"Snailin"," said Mr. Fletcher gloomily; exhibited his snail.
"Snail elsewhere. Do not snail where I am."
"I snails where there"s snails."
"Cease snailing. You must have been there hours."
"What if I have? This garden"s fair planted with snails."
"Snail oftener. Depart."
Mr. Fletcher moved a few steps; then turned. "I should like to ast if this is to be part of my regular job. First you says "cease snailin","
then you says "snail oftener," then you says "snail elsewhere." Snails take findin". They don"t come to me; I has to go to them. It"s "ard-- d.a.m.n "ard. I"m a gardener, I am; not a lettuce-leaf."
He gloomily withdrew.
Mr. Marrapit"s face was angrily twitching. The moment was not propitious for continuing her conversation, and with a little sigh Mrs. Major withdrew.
But it was upon that night that she inscribed in her diary:
_"Getting on with Mr. M. Should suc. Precip. fat."_
IV.
A last peep, ere we hurry across the bridge, will disclose to us Mr.
Bob Chater still pressing upon Mary the attentions which her position, in relation to his, made it so difficult for her to escape. Piqued by her att.i.tude towards him, he was the more inflamed than ordinarily he would have been by the fair face and neat figure that were hers. Yet he made no headway; within a month of the date of his return to Palace Gardens was as far from conquest as upon that night in the nursery.
To a City friend, Mr. Lemuel Moss, dining at 14 Palace Gardens with him one night, he explained affairs.
"Dam" pretty girl, that governess of yours, or whatever she is," said Mr. Moss, biting the end from a cigar in the smoking-room after dinner. "Lucky beggar you are, Bob. My mater won"t have even a servant in the place that wouldn"t look amiss in a monkey-house. Knows me too well, unfortunately," and Mr. Moss, taking a squint at himself in the overmantel, laughed--well enough pleased.
Bob pointed out that there was not so much luck about it as Mr. Moss appeared to think. "Never seen such a stand-offish little rip in all my life," he moodily concluded.
"What, isn"t she--?"
Bob understood the unvoiced question. "Won"t even let a chap have two minutes" talk with her," he said, "let alone anything else."
Mr. Moss stretched himself along the sofa; rejoined: "Oh, rats! Rats!
You don"t know how to manage "em--that"s what it is."
"I know as well as you, and a dashed sight better, I don"t mind betting," Bob returned with heat. In some circles it is an aspersion upon a man"s manliness to have it hinted that a petticoat presenting possibilities has not been ruffled.
"Well, it don"t look much like it. I caught her eye in the pa.s.sage when we were coming downstairs, and you don"t tell me--not much!"
"Did you though?" Bob said. Himself he had never been so fortunate.
"No mistake about it. Why, d"you mean to say you"ve never got as far as that, even?"
"Tell you she won"t look at me."
Mr. Moss laughed. Enjoyed the "score" over his host for a few moments, and then:
"Tell you what it is, old bird," said he, "you"re going the wrong way about it. I know another case just the same. Chap out Wimbledon way.
His people kept a girl--topper she was, too--dark. He was always messing round just like you are, and she was stand-offish as a nun.
One night he came home early, a bit screwed--people out--girl in. Met her in the drawing-room. Almost been afraid to speak to her before.