CHAPTER V.
THE MISSES SLEEK DROP IN.
It was certainly a great deal to Haggard's credit that he remainedtranquilly at The Warren for the space of three whole weeks. It was theLondon season--just that time of year when flat-racing was at itsheight; and at all the great meetings the Pandemonium set wasconspicuous. It might have been that he really liked his wife's society,and that he found that the only way of getting her all to himself was,as he was pleased to call it, to bury himself alive at King's Warren. Ithas been said before that Haggard objected to the _role_ of Beauty'sHusband, but he had found that in town it was willy-nilly forced uponhim. He felt it trying that the instant Georgie showed herself in theirbox at the play, the glasses of all the somebodies and half thenobodies would be immediately levelled at her. Haggard was by no means ajealous man. He was one of those who thoroughly enjoy being a"popper-in" at the boxes of friends where beauty sits triumphant. He hadadmired and rather laughed at the stoical philosophy of some of hismarried friends, who were accustomed to calmly go off to enjoy theirbrandies and sodas, under such circumstances, leaving their wives thecentre of a little circle of admirers--a circle of which he himself wasoften a prominent ornament. But, though not a jealous man, he consideredit wise, when at the play, to be particularly attentive to Georgie.Haggard believed in sheep dogs to a certain extent, but he believedstill more in the actual presence of the shepherd himself. But hisexperiences of the last London season as a married man had convinced himthat the life of Corydon, particularly at the play, was not an existenceof unalloyed bliss. To Mrs. Charmington and her smart set, Haggard'sdevotion to his wife was particularly touching: in vain would theybeckon him, or point to a vacant seat at their sides, with their fans;like Love's Sentinel, sweet was the watch he kept, but, to tell thetruth, it bored him horribly.
It is undoubtedly pleasing to a man to find that his choice isappreciated by all his friends, but it is rather trying to a married manwhen he leaves his wife, even for a few moments, at a garden party, orthe inclosure of a race-course, on his return to always find her, by nofault of her own, be it remembered, surrounded by a rapidly-increasingthrong of enthusiastic admirers. So Haggard resigned himself, withconsiderable philosophy, to the innocent delights of country life andthe dulness of King's Warren.
At all events, it had the refreshing charm of novelty: there was thefishing, and the King's Warren trout stream was a good one. Before hehad filled his creel at the pretty stream that artists used to come topaint, the girls would come down to count the spoil and walk with himthrough the cool lane, to conduct this most fortunate of men back to thesquire's well-supplied breakfast table. Then the model husband wouldpass the morning in a lounge chair in the shadiest corner of the rosegarden, with a big cigar in his mouth, contemplating with lazysatisfaction his prize baby and his handsome wife, while the fair-hairedLucy would swing in the Mexican hammock he had brought her as a souvenirof his American experiences, gaily singing her little scraps of ratherrisky French songs, which, though he did not understand them, alwaysamused him. The little songs, too, appeared to give intense delight toMademoiselle Fanchette; that muscular specimen of womanhood would shakewith inward laughter, and fluently compliment her younger mistress."Ah!" she would say, "if mademoiselle had only been a poor girl, what aposition! all Paris would be at the feet of the beautiful miss. Why, the_cafe-concerts_ would be struggling to possess her. Ah, what an enviableposition!"
Stimulated by this honest praise, Lucy Warrender would delight herlittle audience with "La Venus aux Carottes," or some other well-knownditty of a similar nature. Old Warrender would lean on his daisy-spud apleased spectator of the Arcadian scene. It delighted him to observeHaggard's suddenly awakened delight in the simple pleasures of countrylife, and the old gentleman's admiration of Monsieur, Madame and Bebewas unbounded.
The afternoons were enlivened by the unceremonious dropping in ofsympathetic visitors; the Reverend John Dodd and his wife were welcomeguests, and tea in the garden became quite a function.
It was a standing rule at The Warren that Thursday afternoon was a sortof special day. On Thursdays it was the custom to turn up at thesquire's garden for afternoon tea. The men were always in a minority,for most of the gilded youth of King's Warren were of too timid a natureto put in an appearance. Occasionally young Mr. Wurzel, dragged thitherby his bride-elect, the sentimental Miss Grains, would come, but he feltlike a fish out of water, seldom opened his mouth, and passed most ofhis time in gazing, with respectful admiration, upon Miss LucyWarrender; an annoying fact which did not escape the observation of hismother's sharp old eyes, and which caused considerable indignation inthe troubled breast of the brewer's daughter. The vicar's curate was, ofcourse, a standing dish; other curates from adjacent parishes, too,would appear and disappear, but they met with little encouragement, forMiss Warrender didn't affect a liking for parsons. Even theshort-sighted High-church deacon from the next parish, who spoke ofhimself as a "Celibate," and "vowed to heaven" and habitually gothimself up to resemble a Roman Catholic priest, failed to move herworldly little heart; the Reverend Hopley Porter would have been more inher line, mild curates were not at all in her way. The Misses Sleek,too, freely availed themselves of their _entree_ to The Warren, andthose young ladies were ever on their best behaviour. They were notbad-looking girls, and though both rather fast, while at The Warren theyaffected a demure primness which made them not unattractive. Theypatiently submitted to the continual snubbings of the vicar's wife, andto the little sarcasms with which they were occasionally favoured byMiss Warrender. They humbled themselves in dust and ashes to Miss Hood,and seldom made any reference to that patient money-grubber, their papa.With effusive affection they always addressed the squire as "dear Mr.Warrender," and sought favour in Georgie Haggard's eyes by an ecstaticworship of the little Lucius.
"Don't you think you could manage it for us, Miss Hood? It's not aformal affair, and we are so anxious it should be a success. We shallhave none but nice people, and it is so terribly dull at The Park: weshall only allow pa to ask three of his friends, and they are quite oldgentlemen. I really couldn't ask dear Mr. Warrender myself, nor couldConnie, and we are both terribly afraid of Lucy." So spoke the elderMiss Sleek in appealing tones.
"Do help us, Miss Hood," chimed in the younger sister.
"My dear, I don't see why you should be afraid of Miss Warrender," saidgood-natured Miss Hood, giving that young lady her full title.
"Oh but, dear Miss Hood, she always laughs at us; only just now sheinquired after that poor afflicted Mr. Dabbler. I knew she was laughingat us, and so did Connie, and then she said something dreadful in Frenchabout an ass and two bundles of hay; I'm sure we're not like bundles ofhay," said the girl with an indignant sob. "But we neither mind a jokefrom dear Miss Warrender, do we, Connie?"
"But we should be such a party, my dears."
"Oh, that would only make it more delightful," cried the girl withtriumphant eyes, as she noticed the slight indication of capitulation inMiss Hood's voice. "We're neighbours after all, you know, and haymakingtoo; why, the squire goes to Mr. Wurzel's harvest home. Nothing but thehaymaking, and a little dance afterwards; oh, we should be _so_grateful."
"What's that about a little dance?" cried Georgie's husband withunaffected interest.
"Oh, Mr. Haggard, it's nothing; it's only an idea of pa's; it's ourhaymaking, you know, and we've been asking Miss Hood if The Warren won'thonour us for once in a way."
Both girls fixed their eyes appealingly on Haggard's face.
The squire's son-in-law was quite aware that the wealthy Mr. Sleek was a_parvenu_. He knew that old Warrender would no more dine at The Parkthan he would think of attending the services of the Dissentingminister; but he himself was already beginning to feel rather hippedwith the novelty of his quiet life at The Warren.
"Come, my dear Miss Sleek? of course we'll come. Georgie," he said tohis wife, "Miss Sleek is good enough to ask us to her father's place.We'll be only too glad, of course."
With Georgie to yield to her husband's slightest wish was a secondnature.
"Certainly, Reginald, if you wish it. I shall be very pleased," sheadded, though with an effort.
"It'll be great fun, I'm sure," exclaimed Haggard; "but you'll havemercy, Miss Sleek: you won't work us so hard at the haymaking as toknock us up for the promised dance, and you'll keep one little dance forme, won't you?" he added with cool familiarity.
The girl's face reddened with pleasure as she acquiesced with effusion.And as she thought of the glowing description in the local paper of theforthcoming festivities at The Park, her eyes sparkled with theanticipation of triumph. It would be an epoch in her life to have dancedwith a peer's great-nephew, with the husband of one of the reigningqueens of society. But fresh joys were yet in store for the MissesSleek.
"You'll let me bring my friend Spunyarn, won't you?" said Haggard; "he'scoming down to-morrow."
"Oh, we shall be delighted," chorused the girls, "for we are wofullyshort of men down here at King's Warren."
The babble of conversation increased. Next morning each member of thegroup on The Warren lawn had received an elaborate copper-plateinvitation to the Misses Sleek's haymaking, and the small and earlydance that was to follow it.
The Misses Sleek carried their point; had there been a Mrs. Warrender,their success would have been more than doubtful. Old Warrender himselfcared for none of these things; Miss Hood had protested officially, butfound herself very much in the position of the unfortunate member whoalone protests once a year, as a sort of duty to his constituents,against the sum voted by Parliament to royal princes or princesses ontheir marriage. Haggard and Lucy evidently looked forward to thehaymaking as a relief to the monotony of their existence; as forGeorgie, hers was the simple religion of Ruth, "Whither thou goest Iwill go, thy people shall be my people."
"One must be neighbourly, you know," said the squire, "in a place likethis. For my own part, I see no difference now-a-days between the manwho makes his money in business and the landowner. I'm sure I don't knowwhat Dodd would do without the Sleeks; he's always ready with a cheque,and the girls seem almost unobjectionable."
What a curious fact it is, that in the eyes of all old men girls arealways unobjectionable. Probably from their very age they look uponeven the hoydens, the "mannish," and the fast merely as big and rathernaughty children; therefore, all the more interesting. Let a girl bethoroughly detested by her own sex--and to be thoroughly detested by herown sex she must at least be tolerably good-looking--she is certain tobe the delight of all the old gentlemen of her circle.
Haggard was in a particularly good humour, for he was hourly expectingthe arrival of his _fidus Achates_, Lord Spunyarn. He was impatient tohear all the talk, the gossip and the scandal, which he had missedduring his prolonged absence from the Pandemonium Club. Though theydon't acknowledge it, your average club man is as great a scandalmongerand gossip as any village crone; but being by nature more cautious thanare women, they hardly ever commit themselves upon paper. A yarn is toldby A to B, as a yarn; B tells it to C, as a rumour he has heard; C givesit a tail, and imparts it under the seal of secrecy to D; over thewhist table, E, F, and G get hold of it, like the rolling snow-ball,considerably increased in magnitude; sly H overhears it and gives it atonce into a society journal, where it becomes public property; perhapsit may even result in an action for libel. Let the galled jade wince,our withers are unwrung. Besides, perhaps Haggard was a little nervousas to his reception; since he was last at the Pandemonium he had killeda man, not that that fact troubled his conscience in any way. Now-a-daysa gambler is by no means an outcast at a smart club, particularly thelucky man; for he is placed on a sort of moral pedestal by his lesssuccessful rivals. Still the Lamb episode was not forgotten at thePandemonium, and this, coupled with the affair of poor Barbiche, causedGeorgie's husband to rather dread the cold shoulder. The presence ofSpunyarn too would certainly be a break in the monotony of the life atThe Warren.
Haggard drove over some five miles on that hot summer day about noon, inthe squire's well-appointed dog-cart, to meet his friend Lord Spunyarn,and it was with unaffected pleasure that he shook hands with him uponthe platform of the little station. Had they been Frenchmen, they wouldhave rushed into each other's arms and saluted mutually on either cheek.As it was, they merely smiled and nodded, with a mutual, "How are you,old man?" and a careless inquiry from Lord Spunyarn as to the health of"your people" followed as a matter of course. During the five-and-twentyminutes' sharp drive home, they talked of the heat, the crops and thefishing; for the squire's smart groom rendered anything but generalconversation impossible: the bay mare, too, was full of oats, and apuller.
Lord Spunyarn was a welcome guest to everybody; the whole party came outto meet him at the door, and with rural hospitality a substantial mealwas quickly placed before him. The cool of the afternoon was gotthrough by means of the inevitable croquet; in those days croquet wasinevitable wherever there were ladies and a lawn. At The Warren bothladies and lawn were particularly attractive; the ubiquitous curate wasconspicuous by his absence; there was a little play, a good deal ofsmall talk, and as usual, Lord Spunyarn was particularly attentive toLucy Warrender. Now-a-days it is the fashion for the youth of England toleave the spinsters out in the cold, and to affect the society of themore attractive among the married ladies only. But Spunyarn was nolady-killer, and if he had been, there was a certain air about GeorgieHaggard, a kind of notice to trespassers, that would have warned off themost determined poacher. His lordship at once resumed his old positionof everybody's friend; he chatted with the cousins, he talked politicswith old Warrender, he complimented the head gardener; and when LucyWarrender, assuming a pensive air, inquired if he had no secrets totell her, he calmly replied:
"There is nothing new, I think, Miss Warrender; nothing new, at least,to you; yours as ever, you know, till death," he added with a littlelaugh.
"True knight," she cried, "ever faithful?"
"To you, and to your cousin," he added with a little bow.
"Why, you don't even offer me an undivided affection," said the girl. "Isuppose you are reserving yourself for the high jinks at The Park, LordSpunyarn," she said. "Connie Sleek's a pretty girl, you know, and thereare piles of untold gold, but in your case, though, that isn't aninducement."
"I'm too great a snob myself, dear Miss Warrender, at least, by birth,as you know, ever to fall a victim to a financial belle."
"Poor Connie Sleek, if she could only hear you. Depend upon it thedreams of both sisters last night were disturbed by visions of possiblepromotion. They couldn't restrain their raptures when they learnt thatthey were to entertain a lord, a real live lord, you know. But you arenot to turn their heads, Lord Spunyarn; respect the innocence of oursimple village maidens."
"It is that simple village innocence, Miss Warrender, which in your casehas caused me to sigh so long in vain."
"Thanks," she said with a low courtesy, "the most sincere complimentsare always the most grateful. _A propos de rien_, how did you leave Mrs.Charmington, Lord Spunyarn?"
"On the wane, decidedly on the wane. I think she will soon be a monarchretiring from business. Your cousin and you extinguished hereffectually. There's a little Portuguese Jew, a financial light; he hasducats and a daughter: the ducats are undeniable; the daughter is alleyes, hair and diamonds; she is the last startling novelty of theseason, and under royal patronage. There's only one chance for theCharmington to keep herself before the public: she should try the stage.God knows she has brass enough."
"You are all the same, Lord Spunyarn; when we cease to please you laughat us. I suppose you'll be soon recommending me to try the stage."
"Oh, no, Miss Warrender. _You_ are far too genuine, far too sincere."
Here the conversation was broken off by the exigencies of the game.
The two young men sat smoking late into the night. Haggard narrated hisAmerican experience, cursed the dilatoriness of lawyers and land agents;told of his feats by flood
and field; praised the hospitality of thenatives, the horses and the half-castes; but he didn't say much ofMademoiselle de Bondi, of the Mexico Opera House. And then they talkedabout the Pandemonium, and Haggard heard with pleasure that hisnumerous club acquaintances would be delighted to see him.
"Not quite so pleased, I fancy, when they know I have forsworn thepasteboards. That Lamb affair was a scorcher. Besides, Shirtings, youknow--I may say it to you without swagger--I find now I've made my pilethat it's too big to risk, so I mean to set up as a fogey, and toconfine myself to whist at pound points."
"Poor old paterfamilias," exclaimed the sympathizing friend with genuinefeeling. "I know, port wine, a J.P.-ship, with a lord-lieutenancy andthe gout looming in the distant future."
Haggard gave a groan. "I suppose it'll come to that," said he.
"How are the old man and the pigs? Jolly as usual, eh?"
"Well, the pigs are flourishing, but the governor's out of sorts; hespeaks thick, and his handwriting's getting rather groggy; the poor oldchap may go off at any moment."
There was a short silence.
"Are you going to speculate yourself, Shirtings? If you were one of theimpecunious, there'd be a chance for you to-morrow. Two queens of thesnobocracy will entertain us at romping in the hay, with Sir Roger deCoverley to follow. From all I hear it is a land flowing with milk andhoney. The people themselves are rather dreadful, but for my own part,after three weeks of enforced tranquility, seeing no one but the oldboy, my wife and her cousin, I am in a state of mind that is prepared tobe grateful for the smallest mercies. My dear fellow, I positively lookforward to it. Another week of the existence I have been leading here,and I verily believe that I shall yearn to dance with my own wife."
"Or even her pretty cousin," chimed in Lord Spunyarn.
But Haggard took no notice of the observation. He chuckled, stilltickled with the idea of the absurdity of dancing with Georgie.
"And is Lucy, as of old, to be honoured with your attentions,Shirtings?" said Haggard, who was amusing himself by blowing circles ofsmoke into the air.
"Between ourselves, my boy, I've thought better of it. I shall remain arespectful admirer, of course; but I don't think the lady would go wellin double harness. If I were a devilish good-looking fellow as you are,my boy, I might try it; but I fancy Miss Lucy would prove a handful forany fellow, and I have no ambition to play Jack Charmington's part in asort of perpetual Palais Royal comedy. Life being too short, you know,old man, it seems hardly good enough."
"Rough on Lucy. I fancy she has looked upon you as lawful prize."
"Oh! she can reckon upon me as a permanent admirer; but withoutcompliment, you know, her cousin rather throws her into the shade."
"Thanks, dear boy; there is no accounting for taste."
As the representative of his father-in-law, Haggard asked his lordshipwith punctilious hospitality if he would take another peg. Then, with ayawn, he closed the Tantalus with a snap, and the pair retired to rest.