Dilly's engagement, as is usual under such circumstances, afforded my
household many opportunities for airy badinage and innocent merriment.
Dolly always heralded her coming into the billiard-room, where the
affianced pair had staked out a claim, by a cough of penetrating
severity, and usually entered the room with her features obscured by an
open umbrella. On several occasions, too, she impersonated her sister;
and once, when Dicky was spending a week-end in the house, was only
prevented by the fraction of a second from robbing that incensed damosel
of her morning salute.
My share in the proceedings was limited to a single constrained
interview with Dicky, at which, feeling extremely rude and inquisitive,
I asked him the usual stereotyped questions about his income, prospects,
and habits (most of which I knew only too well already), which, being
satisfactorily answered, I rang the bell for the Tantalus, and thanked
heaven that the Twins were not Triplets. I had indeed suggested that
Dilly's nearest and most natural protector was her brother, Master
Gerald, and that Dicky should apply not for my consent but his. This
motion, however, was negatived without a division. I was sorry, for I
think my brother-in-law would have shown himself worthy of the occasion.
My wife received the news of the engagement with all the enthusiasm
usually exhibited by a Salvation lassie when a fresh convert is hustled
forward to the "saved" bench, and henceforth divided her time between
ordering Dilly's trousseau and giving tea-parties, at which the
prospective bridegroom was produced and passed round, "as if," to use
his own expression, "he were the newest thing in accordion-pleating."
As regards Robin's share in the event, I can only recall one incident.
He had been away at Stoneleigh, the largest town in my constituency, on
some party business, and when he returned home the engagement had been
announced for nearly a week.
"I must go and offer my good wishes to Miss Dilly," he said, after
hearing the news. "Do you know where she is, Mrs Inglethwaite?"
"I saw her upstairs a few minutes ago," said Kitty. "Come up, and we'll
find her."
We were in the library at the time, and Kitty and Robin left the room
together. The rest of the story my wife told me later.
"We went up," she said, "and looked into the drawing-room, where I had
last seen Dilly. The room was nearly dark, but she was there, sitting
curled up in front of the fire.
"'There she is,' I said. 'Go and say something nice.'
"Well, dear,"--Kitty's face assumed an air of impressive solemnity which
makes her absurdly like her daughter--"he stood hesitating a moment, and
then walked straight up to her and said--
"'Good afternoon! Can you tell me where your sister is? I want to offer
her my good wishes on the great event.'
"It wasn't Dilly at all. It was Dolly! And he was able to distinguish
between the two in that dim room. And _I_ couldn't!"
"Oh," said I carelessly, "I expect he noticed she wasn't wearing an
engagement-ring."
My wife looked at me and sighed, as over one who would spoil a romance
for want of a ha'porth of sentiment. And yet I know she would have been
quite scandalised if any one had hinted at tender passages between her
sister and my secretary. Women are curious creatures.