When their week was up, Mr. Langham's guests, Messrs. O'Malley, Alston,
and Cox, felt obliged to go where income called them. Renier, however,
who had only been at work a year, decided that he did not like his job,
and would try for another in the fall. Lee delivered herself of the
stern opinion that a rolling stone gathers no moss, and Renier answered
that his late uncle had been a fair-to-middling moss gatherer, and that
to have more than one such in a given family was a sign of low tastes.
"I have a little money of my own," he said darkly, "and, what's more, I
have a little hunch." To his face Lee upbraided him for his lack of
ambition and his lack of elegance, but behind his back she smiled
secretly. She was well pleased with herself. It had only taken him three
days to get so that he knew her when he saw her, and for a young man of
average intellect and eyesight that was almost a record.
The triplets were not only as like as three lovely vases cast in the
same mould but it amused them to dress alike, without so much as the
differentiation of a ribbon, and to imitate each other's little tricks
of speech and gesture. It was even possible for them to fool their own
brother at times when he happened to be a little absent-minded.
Every day Renier fished for many hours, and always the guide who handled
his boat and showed him where to throw his flies was Lee.
"They're only children," said Mary, "and I think they're getting
altogether too chummy."
Arthur did not answer, and for the very good reason that Mary's words
were not addressed to him, nor were they addressed to Maud or Eve.
Indeed, at the moment, these three were sound asleep in their beds. It
was to that plumper and earlier bird, Mr. Samuel Langham, that Mary had
spoken. The end of a kitchen table, set with blue-and-white dishes and
cups that steamed, fragrantly separated them. They had formed a habit of
breakfasting together in the kitchen, and it had not taken Mary long to
discover that Sam Langham's good judgment was not confined to eatables
and drinkables. She consulted him about all sorts of things. She felt as
if she had known him (and trusted him) all her life.
"Renier," he said, "is one of the few really eligible young men I know.
That is why I asked him up here. I don't mean that my intention was
match-making, but when I saw your picture in the advertisement, I said
to myself: 'The Inn is no place for attractive scalawags. Any man that
goes there on my invitation must be sound, morally and financially.'
Young Renier is as innocent of anything evil as Miss Lee herself. If
they take a fancy to each other--of course it's none of my business,
but, my dear Miss Darling--why not?"
"Coffee?"
"Thanks."
"An egg?"
"Please."
Mary was very tactful. She never said: "_Some more_ coffee?" She never
said: "_Another_ egg?"
"Some people," said Mr. Langham, smiling happily, "might say that _we_
were getting too chummy."
"Suppose," said Mary, "that somebody did say just that?"
"I should reply," said Mr. Langham thoughtfully, "that of the few really
eligible men that I know, I myself am, on the whole, the most eligible."
Mary laughed.
"Construe," she said.
"In the first place," he continued, "and naming my qualifications in the
order of their importance, I don't ever remember to have spoken a cross
word to anybody; secondly, unless I have paved a primrose path to
ultimate indigestion and gout, there is nothing in my past life to
warrant mention. To be more explicit, I am not in a position to be
troubled by--er--'old agitations of myrtle and roses'; third, something
tells me that in a time of supreme need it would be possible for me to
go to work; and, fourth, I have plenty of money--really plenty of
money."
Mary smiled almost tenderly.
"I can't help feeling," she said, "that I, too, am a safe proposition. I
am twenty-nine. My wild oats have never sprouted. I think we may
conclude that they were never sown. The Inn was my idea--mostly, though
I say it that shouldn't. And The Inn is going to be a success. We could
fill every room we've got five times--at our own prices."
"I pronounce your bill of health sound," said Mr. Langham. "Let us
continue to be chummy."
"Coffee?"
"Thanks."
Whatever chance there may have been for Gay and Pritchard to get "too
chummy"--and no one will deny that they had made an excellent start--was
promptly knocked in the head by Arthur. It so happened that, in a
desperately unguarded moment, when Arthur happened to be present,
Pritchard mentioned that he had spent a whole winter in the city of
Peking. The name startled Arthur as might the apparition of a ghost.
"Which winter?" he asked. "I mean, what year?"