_A Problem for the Duke_
Poor Nocastle! His Grace seems to have a problem to solve that
is beyond his intellectuality. Here stands Ethel Bumpschus, with
spectacles and ten millions; there Pearl Veal, beautiful, with but
four. Which will he choose? And surely he has only to choose, for he
is a peer of England. He is only five feet four, partially bald, pale,
fuzzy mustache upside down, but then, besides, he is Charles John Peter
Michael Henry Edwin Reginald Clarence Angus Joseph Fitznit, Duke of
Nocastle, Marquis of Bumpshire, Earl of Duckham, Baron Llfygntynllan,
Baron McGonigle in Ireland, etc. He has been here nearly two weeks now,
turning the Bumpschus house upside down, and yet his engagement to its
heiress has not been announced. _Town Twaddle_ cruelly reported that
there had been a hitch over the settlements, that his solicitor had
been cabled for, and that pending the arrival of Sir Charles Wigge no
announcements would be made. But I know better. The hitch came that
afternoon at the Bumpschuses when the noble eyes lighted on Pearl Veal,
as she stood beside Mrs. Radigan, smiling. Since then his Grace has
haunted the Radigan house, and when he is not loafing in the shadow of
its mistress, he is sitting on a bench in the Park Mall, seeking an
inspiration in the bust of Robert Burns. Time is flying. He will have
to decide soon, for he has bought a brace of bull pups and the fancier
is standing all day in the Bumpschus hall, respectfully waiting for his
money.
My position is a hard one. Were Pearl the only one to be coped with,
there would be no doubt of the future, but with a social Oyama like
Mrs. Radigan opposing you, there can be little hope. Mrs. Radigan is
very frank. She got me in a corner the other day and proceeded to
explain to me why the engagement should be broken at once. Pearl's
happiness for life was at stake, she said, and surely I would sacrifice
myself for her. But is it happiness? said I. She told me that I was
a child. Pearl would be a duchess, the mistress of four castles; she
would take precedence over Clarissa Bumpschus, who had married the
Duke of Nothingham, and over Evangeline Very, who was to wed the Earl
of Less; she could snub Ethel Bumpschus, who had always been a snob,
anyway; and the Japanese war would be forgotten while the wedding
was under way. Was this not happiness for any girl? As for me, she
promised me that I should be best man, and surely it would give me more
distinction to be best man for a duke than to be the groom myself.
I admitted that the prospect was dazzling all around, but asked
about the Duke's debts, which I had heard ran up close to a million,
not counting the bull pups, and would eat a large hole in Pearl's
pocket-book. Mrs. Radigan laughed. Trust her for that, she said. The
Bumpschuses had settled Nothingham's debts for ten cents on the
dollar, and she was sure that $500,000 would mend Nocastle's roofs and
satisfy his creditors. She appealed to my sense of honor. Was it right
for me to expect Pearl to marry a plain American real-estate agent when
she could have at her call one of the greatest men in England? It was
selfish of me, I admitted. Then, weary of it all, in rather hopeless
fashion, I said that we had best leave it all to Pearl.
Mrs. Radigan was triumphant. She seemed to think the last obstacle to
a noble brother-in-law removed. She said that I was a dear, unselfish
boy, and all that. She could now go on with her plans, and would have
the wedding right after Lent at St. Edward's. Just then Pearl came in,
all aglow from a forty-mile spin in her car with Marian Speechless, and
when she had emerged from her furs she sank into a chair and called for
tea and cigarettes.
I gave her a light, and when she was smoking contentedly, Mrs. Radigan
said: "It's all settled." Then she explained that I was willing to
retire in favor of his Grace.
Pearl just smiled and smoked--that inscrutable smile of hers.
"Well?" said Mrs. Radigan sharply.
"Well?" said Pearl, blowing rings.
"The engagement's off," said Mrs. Radigan.
"Which one?" said Pearl smiling.
"The present one," said Mrs. Radigan sharply.
"Why?" said Pearl.
"Because I think you should marry the Duke," said Mrs. Radigan.
"Indeed?" said Pearl.
"You would be happier with a duke," said Mrs. Radigan firmly.
"You think so?" said Pearl.
"There is no woman living that would not jump at a duke," said Mrs.
Radigan. "You will be the envy of every girl in town."
Pearl smiled and smoked--smoked inscrutably.
"Well?" said Mrs. Radigan.
"We will walk down Madison Avenue," said Pearl, rising, and turning her
lustrous eyes to me.
Her conduct has puzzled me greatly. It seemed like prolonging the
torture before the end. For when it comes to a choice between a duke
and a real-estate agent, there can be but one answer. It only remains
for his Grace to make up that feeble mind of his, and my day-dream will
be over. Now I am enjoying it as best I can.
As we strolled down Madison that afternoon, it seemed to me that
it would likely be our last appearance together on the avenue of
sentiment. We were silent. My mood was too despairing for silly
prattle, and Pearl seldom speaks, and then in hardly more than
monosyllables. Once I thought I would end it all there, and so let my
tongue run away with me for a moment. I think I referred to the duke in
ungentlemanly language. Her answer was a smile more inscrutable than
ever.
That night the Duke dined with us to meet the local nobility. Of
course it was informal, being Lent, and Mrs. Radigan being religious,
so the dinner was set for 7.30 in accordance with the church ritual,
but no one appeared until after 8. Of course his Grace took Mrs.
Radigan in, and with her usual tact she had fixed Ethel Bumpschus at
his right, with Pearl across the table, so the contrasts were very
sharp. Artfully, too, she had exiled me to the other end, between
the Countess Poglioso Spinnigini and Mrs. Bobbie Q. Williegilt. Mrs.
Radigan was in high feather, with a noble to the right of her, a noble
to the left of her, and champagne in front of her. Prince Cosmospopolis
of Greece is a very delightful man, and as he has been in this country
a long while as agent of a Sicilian olive house, he speaks English
very well, and so kept the attention of Pearl Veal through the whole
dinner, as Count Poglioso Spinnigini on her other hand early gave up
trying to make himself understood and found consolation in his plate
and glasses. Clever Mrs. Radigan! The Duke was evidently much worried
by the princely olive agent's attentions to his hostess's beautiful
sister. Occasionally he would turn his eyes from her to venture that
something was "jolly," but for the most part he was silently gazing
over the board. Once he got his courage up and tried to break up Prince
Cosmospopolis's tête-à-tête by giving a loud "haw," and then: "I say,
Miss Cutlet."
Naturally, there was a hush. Then everyone began talking as loud as
possible, and the desperate Duke absently drained Mrs. Radigan's
champagne glass to the bottom. Pearl looked my way, and I saw the
corner of her mouth twitch.
Miss Bumpschus was triumphant. I could see that in her well-bred laugh.
Poor young woman! She did not realize for what purpose Mrs. Radigan
had been engaging her across the Duke in a long dissertation on the
needs of the aged ticket-choppers. She did not know that in me a new
champion had arisen in her cause. The idea of joining forces with her
came to me by a sudden thought, and quick as the women had gone, and
we were in the smoking-room, I got his Grace off in one corner. We are
very good friends, for I have put him up at one or two clubs, besides
showing him the sights of the town. Glorious were the colors in which I
painted the plain Ethel. She had ten millions now in her own name, and
when old Bumpschus died there was another ten coming. Better still, old
Bumpschus had heart disease, and I had information that he was likely
to drop off at any time. The Duke smoked up a cigarette in a minute
and a half, and his lips moved as though he were working a problem in
mental arithmetic. Then I intimated that Miss Veal's money was rather
precariously invested, that with the present Stock Exchange quotations
her fortune varied daily from one to two millions. His Grace seemed
much affected.
"She's a jolly girl--a jolly, lovely girl," he said, as we were
returning to the drawing-room.
"Miss Veal?" said I nonchalantly.
"She's jolly, too," he said.
But when he sat down on the sofa beside Miss Bumpschus and began to
count the lights in the chandelier, I knew of whom he was thinking.
A moment there only, and his gaze fell on Pearl, looking up into the
face of the gallant Cosmospopolis. She glanced his way and smiled
lustrously. Ethel Bumpschus was forgotten, deserted. His Grace shot
across the room and secured the prized vacant place before the Prince
was aware of the danger.
"Jolly evening," cried the Duke; "awfully jolly!"
"It is delightful that your Royal Highness cares for our simple
American ways," said Mrs. Radigan beaming, as she sat shuffling the
cards for a table of bridge.