that girl, she is so sweetand dainty, far and away the prettiest girl in Blankfield. What did youmake of your chance?"
"As much as could be made in five or ten minutes. She told me a lotabout things, her disappointment in finding that the Blankfield peoplewould not call upon her, and that, excepting her brother, she had not asoul to speak to."
"Poor little soul!" said Mr Pomfret, in a voice of the deepestsympathy. "Poor little soul!" he repeated.
"Well, we talked for some little time, some ten minutes perhaps, I don'tthink it could have been much longer. And then--then--you will neverbelieve it, Jack--she asked me to call, and be introduced to herbrother."
Mr Pomfret was quite young, in fact he was the baby of the regiment.But having been educated at a public school, he had learned a certainamount of worldly wisdom rather early. He gave expression to it now.
"If she were living with her mother, or a maiden aunt, Hughie, the thingwould be so easy. But the brother, we have seen him walking beside thatlovely girl. It would be difficult to class him. It would be perhapstoo much to say he was either a bounder or a cad--he's not boisterousenough for the one or common enough for the other. But clearly, he'snot a gentleman or the imitation of one."
"No," answered Hugh. "Your description of the brother quite fits. Heis neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red-herring, as the old saw hasit. Then the girl is so different. She is, to an extent, frank andunconventional."
"She must be, or she wouldn't have asked you to call upon her,"interrupted the astute Mr Pomfret.
"Quite so, I perfectly agree. But upon my soul, Jack, she has the mostperfect manners. She does these sort of things in such a way that youcease to wonder why she does them."
"I understand." Mr Pomfret looked very wise. "There's a wonderfulfascination about the girl. She radiates it, even when you pass her inthe street. By Gad, there's not a young woman in Blankfield who canhold a candle to her. Well, Hughie, what are you going to do about theinvitation?"
"I'm in two minds, old man, to go or stay away. There's the brother,you see."
"There's the brother," repeated Mr Pomfret, "and a dashed disappointingsort of a brother, too. If it had only been a mother, or a maiden aunt!What a priceless opportunity! And yet it seems a bit too good to belost."
"But the brother, what about him?" Hugh insisted.
"The brother is, of course, a stumbling-block. You can't ask him toMess. `Old Fireworks' will stand more from you than anybody, but hewould never stand Burton. He would be calling him `Your Grace' or `YourWorship' or something."
"Old Fireworks," it may be explained, was the nickname of the respectedColonel of the gallant Twenty-fifth Lancers. It had been conferred uponhim, on account of his explosive temper. He was also a rigiddisciplinarian.
"I shall not go," said Hugh after a brief pause.
Mr Pomfret was thinking deeply. He pulled at his big cigar in ameditative fashion. Then at length, out of his wisdom, he spoke:
"Let us reason this out, my well-beloved friend. A very pretty girlasks you to go and see her, she is unfortunately hampered by anundesirable brother. You accept their hospitality, but you know he isnot a man you can ask to Mess. But you can take him to an hotel, andfeed him up there. Tell him the Colonel's kicked up rough about guests,any lie you like, to save his _amour propre_."
"A good idea, Jack. Have you anything more to say? Don't forget thatif I go to Rosemount, the news will be all over Blankfield in fiveminutes."
Mr Pomfret snapped his fingers. "Who cares a fig for the Blankfieldpeople? Everybody knows, or ought to know, that a soldier loves andrides away. And the Blankfield girls are dull enough, Heaven knows, Iwouldn't give a thought to them."
"Then you advise me to call, and be introduced to the brother, eh?"
"Of course. We shall be off in another two months, and leave onlytender memories behind us." Mr Pomfret was a practical person, if everthere was one. "Let us seize the passing day. By the way, have you anyobjection to taking me up to call with you, when you go? Say no, if youhave the slightest objection."
Hugh Murchison looked at him squarely. "No, old chap, not theslightest. The girl interests me in a way, chiefly, I think, because Ican't quite make her out, can't determine whether she is very cunning orvery simple, but I am not attracted in the ordinary sense. I take ityou are."
Pomfret's look of indifference changed to one of gravity. "Yes, Hughie,I am. I would like to see that girl at close quarters."
Hugh rose. "Right. We will call together, and in the meantime we willkeep it from the other fellows?"
"Good Heavens, I should think so. We should be chaffed to death," wasJack's fervent answer.
A few days later, the two young men walked to Rosemount. It was a villasort of house, set in a small garden, very carefully kept. The windowswere ornamented with boxes of flowers. Small as the establishment was,there was an air of elegance about it, an elegance perhaps of restrictedmeans but of refined taste.
Pomfret nudged his senior officer. "I say, they've turned it into avery decent sort of little crib, haven't they? I should say that is dueto the girl."
Hugh laughed. "Perhaps it is the brother after all. He might be anartist, you know. Artists are often very rum-looking chaps."
"Artist be hanged," said Pomfret emphatically. "I'll bet you a fiver heisn't an artist, whatever he is. A `bookie' or a `bookie's' tout, morelikely."
At the end of this short colloquy, they had reached the hall door. Avery smart maidservant, in a becoming cap and apron, opened it. Inanswer to their inquiry, Miss Burton was in.
They were shown into the drawing-room. The young mistress of the housewas reclining in an easy-chair; an open book lay on her lap.
She advanced towards them with that peculiar air of self-possessionwhich had so impressed Hugh on his first meeting in the tea-shop. Ahostess with years of social experience could not have been more at herease than this young girl.
"How nice of you to come, after that very vague invitation," she said,in her clear, silvery voice.
She addressed Murchison first, and then turned swiftly to Pomfret, inwhose eyes she doubtless recognised frank admiration of her peculiarattractiveness.
"I know your friend is going to introduce you in proper form. But it isreally quite unnecessary. I know you are Mr Pomfret. I have learnedthe names of all the officers from the tradespeople, also, my onlyfriends in Blankfield. Perhaps Captain Murchison has told you what Iconfided to him the other day, that we are as isolated here as if wewere on a desert island."
Mr Pomfret sat down beside her on a small Chesterfield. From hisvantage point he could gaze into the beautiful eyes, he could note thelustre of that fair, wavy hair.
"A beastly shame," growled the young subaltern, at a loss forappropriate words to express the enormities of Blankfield Society.
She turned away lightly, as if the subject interested her no further.
"I think we will have tea. My brother is engaged in scientificpursuits. When he can tear himself away, he will join us. CaptainMurchison, will you kindly ring the bell?"
Truly, she had the manners of a woman of the world. She took the homageof the two men as an accomplished fact. The villadom of Blankfieldcould not produce such a hostess, so free from fussiness or exaggeratedhospitality. You would have to go to the "county" to find her parallel.The two men exchanged appreciative glances. Whatever her origin, MissBurton could shine in any circle in which she found herself permanently,or temporarily, located.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The tea was served, and over the tea-cups they chatted in desultoryfashion. Then the drawing-room door opened, and Mr Burton appeared.From the moment of his appearance, the atmosphere seemed to be changed.He advanced towards them with outstretched hands. His manner wasextremely cordial, but it went beyond the limits of good taste. Histones were breezy but blusterous. There was a rasping and a vulgar ringin his vo
ice.
"Welcome to our humble abode, gentlemen. It is very brave of you tocome and visit the boycotted ones."
Hugh and Jack Pomfret fidgeted in their chairs. This common-lookingyoung man was a bit too communicative about his private affairs. Theyhad a slight suspicion that he had been indulging in alcohol, his mannerwas so unrestrained.
Mr Burton sank down in his chair, and took a cup of tea from the handsof his attentive sister. The visitors did not see it, but she shot awarning glance at him, and in face of that warning glance, Mr Burton,by a strong effort, pulled himself together.
"You see, gentlemen, I feel very sore about this matter; my sister has acalmer