"Merciful Heaven!" screamed Mrs. Handsomebody. "Davy!" "Mr. Curzon!" She
clutched her curl-papers in one hand and the front of her purple wrapper in
the other. "We did not expect you for an hour yet."
Father laughed. "Well, I've saved you some of the trouble of preparing by
coming early. How very well you are looking. And how well-cared-for the
children. I'm delighted. I think I shall take them over to the hotel where
my luggage has been sent and have a talk with them and come back later.
Will that suit you?"
But Mrs. Handsomebody insisted that he have a proper breakfast, and
installed us in the parlour while she retired to assume the decent armour
of the day.
Father sat facing the stuffed birds. He put The Seraph on his knee, and
Angel and I hung on either side of him. We were suddenly shy of him, and it
seemed enough to be near him, and to feel the all-surrounding power and
protection of him. His cheeks were incredibly sun-browned, with a ruddy
glow beneath; his moustache and the hair at his temples were almost golden.
I liked the greenish grey of his tweed suit that seemed to match his clear,
wide-open eyes.
He made a wry face at the stuffed birds and then he whispered: "Old chaps,
have you been happy here?"
We nodded. The past was gone. What did it matter! "Oh, but, we want to be
wiv you! Don't leave us," breathed The Seraph, burrowing his face into the
rough tweed shoulder.
Angel and I burrowed against him too. "Don't leave us again," we whispered.
He began to kiss us, and to rumple our heads, and to bite The Seraph's
cheek. The Seraph, drunk with joy, jumped down, and pulling open the door
of the glass case tried to drag a lovebird from its perch to present to
father. We were just able to stop him when our governess returned.
She was dignified and smiling, in black satin and a gold chain. Mary Ellen
had the breakfast laid in the dining-room and we sat about him, watching
him eat. With what admiration we beheld his masterful attack on the bacon
and eggs! It became awe when we saw the quantity of marmalade that he
spread upon his toast.
And Mrs. Handsomebody beamed fatuously at him!
Between mouthfuls he talked. "Do you remember how I used to call you
Wiggie? And the time I hid the white rat in your bonnet box?"
Mrs. Handsomebody cackled. The Seraph kicked the table leg, unreproved. I
drifted after Mary Ellen to the kitchen. "Isn't he fine?" I bragged.
"Divil a finer," agreed she.
"And 'tis yersilf, Masther John," she added, "is the very spit av him.
Shure it's you should be the proud bye."
"And, Mary Ellen, you are to come and live with us, you know, and have all
the 'followers' you want."
"Och," she laughed, "I'm done wid followers, me dear. To tell ye the truth,
Mr. Watlin and I are plannin' to git hitched up, before the New Year. An
uncle of his have died and left him enough to start him in the butcherin'
business on his own account. So maybe you'll dance at me weddin' yet."
"I'll give you a nice present, Mary Ellen, dear," I promised, putting my
arm around her.
"Yes," she went on, squeezing me, "and the cook next door was tellin' me
last night, that the word is goin' about that Miss Margery an' Misther
Harry is engaged too. So there's love in the air, Masther John. D'ye mind
the time 'twas yersilf was in love wid little Miss Jane? Bless yer little
heart."