MRS. CLIVE--AND POMPEY
Mrs. Clive had the faithful Pompey in her arms. That faithful animal
was out for exercise, and exercise meant as a rule, to him, being
carried all the way. His mistress stared at the lovers, and the
lovers, taken aback for a moment, stared at her.
"Can I believe my eyes!"
In her amazement she let the faithful creature fall. Pompey gave a
dismal groan. He did not belong to the order of dogs who can fall with
comfort to themselves. Where he fell he lay. In the agitation of her
feelings Mrs. Clive did not notice the quadruped's distress.
"Lily! Is it possible it is my niece!"
Quite possible, it seemed, and not at all surprising, either.
Recovering from the first momentary shock, Miss Truscott was the most
charming niece alive. Removing herself from the gentleman's near
neighbourhood, she inclined her body and gave a little graceful
curtsey--a prettier curtsey never yet was seen.
"Yes, aunty, it is I." Then she drew herself up straight. "You always
said I was your niece." Then she turned to the gentleman. "Willy,
don't you know my aunt?"
Mr. Summers laughed. The old lady bridled, but the gentleman, not at
all abashed, took off his hat and advanced to her with outstretched
hand.
"Mrs. Clive, it is twelve months since I saw you. I am afraid you have
forgotten me."
But he was mistaken if he thought that she would take his hand. There
never was an old lady with a stiffer mien, and she was at her stiffest
now. She had her mittened hands down by her sides, and looked him in
the face as though she could not see that he was there.
"I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir."
This was a fib, but there are occasions when fibs must be expected.
"My name is Summers--William Summers. I thought I heard you just now
mention me by name. And I, at least, have not forgotten the pleasant
hours I spent with you last year."
"Lily, I must trouble you to come with me."
That was the only answer he received to his small compliment. With her
most unbending air the old lady turned to go. But the impression she
desired to convey was in a measure spoiled. In sweeping round--her
action could only be described as sweeping round--she kicked the
faithful Pompey; and when the faithful Pompey received that kick he
raised a dreadful howl, and that dreadful howl awoke the echoes far
and wide. In an instant Mr. Summers had the ill-used creature in his
arms.
"Poor Pompey! I am afraid you have hurt him, Mrs. Clive. How well he
looks! See, Mrs. Clive, he seems in pain. I'm afraid you must have
kicked him in the side, and in his condition that is rather a serious
thing. Don't you know me, Pompey?"
It appeared that Pompey did, for, in a feeble kind of way, he put out
his tongue and licked his protector's nose. Such a sight could not but
touch the lady's heart. Still, of course, it was out of the question
that she should unbend.
"I must trouble you, sir, to let me have my dog."
"Permit me to carry him for you towards the house. I'm sure he is in
pain--see how still he is."
If stillness were a sign of pain, then the faithful beast must have
been pretty constantly in pain, for motion--or emotion--of any sort
was not in Pompey's line. Mrs. Clive would have grasped the subterfuge
if she had been left alone, but her perfidious niece came to the
gentleman's aid. She began to stroke and caress the faithful beast.
"Poor Pompey! Poor 'ickle Pompey, then! I hope he has not broken any
bones. Do you think it is his ribs?"
Miss Truscott's back was turned to Mrs. Clive. If the aunt had seen
the way in which her niece glanced under her long eyelashes at the
gentleman in front of her she would have seized the animal and marched
away.
"I scarcely think it is his ribs."
It was not probable, considering how they were swathed in fat.
"Perhaps it is his leg."
"I hope that it is not."
Mr. Summers threw such a tone of doubt into this expression of his
hopes that Mrs. Clive's heart gave quite a jump. Her Pompey's leg!
Broken! And by her! But she was not by any means going to give in yet.
There was the bearded gentleman holding the wheezing quadruped as
though it were the most precious thing on earth, and there was her
niece very close in front of him. All her sense of moral rectitude was
up in arms.
"Lily! I am surprised at you!"
"Surprised at me, aunty! Why? Because you have broken Pompey's leg? I
didn't do it, it was you. Supposing he should die? You know what a
delicate constitution he always had."
"It is quite possible the injury is less serious than we suppose";
this the gentleman suggested in a consoling kind of way,
"though"--here some one gave the dog a pinch, and the dog gave
expression to his feelings in a howl--"though decidedly he seems in
pain. I think that I had better go on with him straight to the house."
"Lily! I insist upon your coming here."
Miss Truscott did as she was told. With meek face and downcast eyes
she fell in decorously by the old lady's side. Mr. Summers, ignored
and snubbed, but still triumphant, bore Pompey away in front.
"Lily, what is the meaning of all this?"
"I think you must have let Pompey fall, and then have kicked him when
he fell. I cannot see how you can have done it; you are so careful as
a rule."
"I am not speaking about the dog; you know that very well. I am
speaking of the--the extraordinary scene I interrupted."
"Willy was telling me that he loved me."
"Willy was telling you what! And who is Willy, pray?"
"Willy is Mr. Summers's Christian name."
"Lily, are you stark, raving mad? Have you forgotten what happened
yesterday? Are you aware that it is not four-and-twenty hours since
you promised Mr. Frederic Ely to be his wife?"
"Yes, auntie; but I have changed my mind."
"You have--what?"
"I have changed my mind."
Mrs. Clive was so overcome that she sank down on a grassy bank which
they were passing. It was a thing she had not done for years. She was
always under the impression that the grass was damp--even when it
burned you as you touched it with the palm of your hand.
"Lily, either you are mad or I must be. Changed your mind! Do you
think that in such a matter it is possible for a woman to change her
mind?"
"It would seem to be, wouldn't it? Especially when you look at me."
"You treat it as a jest! The most astounding behaviour I ever heard
of! I don't wish to forget myself if you have done so; I simply call
it the most astounding behaviour I ever heard of! A niece of mine!"
"Perhaps that's it. I--I have such a remarkable aunt."
The temptation was irresistible, but the effect was serious. For some
moments Mrs. Clive sat speechless with indignation. Then she rose from
the mossy bank and walked away without a word. Left behind, Miss
Truscott covered her face with her hands and laughed--a little
guiltily, it seemed. Then she went after. So the march to the house
resolved itself into a procession of three.