'Edith,' said Bruce, next morning, with some importance of manner, 'I've
had a letter from Aylmer--Aylmer Ross, you know--asking me, _most_
particularly, to call on him.'
'Oh, really,' said Edith, who knew it already, as she had asked him to
write to Bruce.
'He wants me to come at half-past four,' said Bruce, looking over the
letter pompously. 'Four-thirty, to the minute. I shall certainly do it.
I shan't lose a minute.'
'I'm afraid you'll have to lose a few minutes,' said Edith. 'It's only
ten o'clock.'
Bruce stared at her, folded up the letter, and put it in his pocket. He
thought it would be a suitable punishment for her not to see it.
Obviously he was not in the best of humours. Not being sure what was
wrong, Edith adopted the simple plan of asking what he meant.
'What do I mean!' exclaimed Bruce, who, when his grievances, were vague,
relied on such echoes for his most cutting effects. 'You ask me what I
mean? Mean, indeed!' He took some toast and repeated bitterly: 'Ah! You
may well ask me what I mean!'
'May I? Well, what were the observations you didn't approve of?'
'Why ... what you said. About several minutes being lost before
half-past four.'
'Oh, Bruce dear, I didn't mean any harm by it.'
'Harm, indeed!' repeated Bruce. 'Harm! It isn't a question of actual
harm. I don't say that you meant to injure me, nor even, perhaps, to
hurt my feelings. But it's a way of speaking--a tone--that I think
extremely _déplacé_, from you to me. Do you follow me, Edith? From
_you_ to _me_.'
'That's a dark saying. Well, whatever I said I take it back, if you
don't like it. Will that do?'
Bruce was mollified, but wouldn't show it at once.
'Ah,' he said, 'that's all very well. These sort of things are not so
easily taken back. You should think before you speak. Prevention is
better than cure.'
'Yes, and a stitch in time saves nine--though it doesn't rhyme. And it's
no good crying over spilt milk, and two heads are better than one. But,
really, Bruce, I didn't mean it.'
'What didn't you mean?'
'Good heavens, I really don't know by now! I'm afraid I've utterly
forgotten what we were talking about,' said Edith, looking at the door
with some anxiety.
She was hoping that Madame Frabelle would soon come down and cause a
diversion.
'Look here, Edith,' said Bruce, 'when an old friend, an old friend of
yours and mine, and at one time a very intimate friend--next door to a
brother--when such a friend as that has been wounded at the front,
fighting for our country--and, mind you, he behaved with remarkable
gallantry, for it wasn't really necessary for him to go, as he was
beyond the age--well, when a friend does a thing like that, and comes
back wounded, and writes, with his own hand, asking me to go and see
him--well, I think it's the least I can do! I don't know what _you_
think. It seems to _me_ the right thing. If you disagree with me I'm
very sorry. But, frankly, it appears to me that I ought to go.'
'Who could doubt it?'
'Read the letter for yourself,' said Bruce, suddenly taking it out of
his pocket and giving it to her. 'There, you see. "Dear Ottley,"
he says.'
Here Bruce went to her side of the table and leant over her, reading the
letter aloud to her over her shoulder, while she was reading it
to herself.
'"DEAR OTTLEY,--If you could look in tomorrow about half-past four, I
should be very glad to see you. Yours sincerely, AYLMER ROSS." Fairly
cordial, I think, isn't it? Or not? Perhaps you think it cold. Would you
call it a formal letter?'
Bruce took the letter out of her hand and read it over again to himself.
'Very nice, dear,' said Edith.
'So I thought.' He put it away with a triumphant air.
Edith was thinking that the writing was growing stronger. Aylmer must be
better.
'I say, I hope it isn't a sign he's not so well, that he wants to see
me. I don't call it a good sign. He's depressed. He thinks I'll
cheer him up.'
'And I'm sure you will. Ah, here's Madame Frabelle.'
'I'm afraid I'm a little late,' said their guest, with her amiable
smile.
'Oh dear, no--not at all, not at all,' said Bruce, who was really much
annoyed at her unpunctuality. 'Of course, if you'd been a minute later I
shouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing you at all before I went to
the office--that's all. And what does that matter? Good heavens,
_that's_ of no importance! Good gracious, this is Liberty Hall, I
hope--isn't it? I should be very sorry for my guests to feel tied in any
way--bound to be down at any particular time. Will you have some coffee?
Edith, give Madame Frabelle a cup of coffee. Late? Oh dear, no;
certainly not!' He gave a short, ironical laugh.
'Well, I think I'm generally fairly punctual,' said Madame Frabelle,
beginning her breakfast without appearing to feel this sarcasm. 'What
made me late this morning was that Archie and Dilly came into my room
and asked me to settle a kind of dispute they were having.'
'They regard you quite as a magistrate,' said Edith. 'But it was too bad
of them to come and bother you so early.'
'Oh no. Not at all. I assure you I enjoy it. And, besides, a boy with
Archie's musical talents is bound to have the artistic temperament, you
know, and--well--of course, we all know what that leads to--excitement;
and finally a quarrel sometimes.'
'If he were really musical I should have thought he ought to be more
harmonious,' Edith said.
'Oh, by the way, Edith, did you consult Landi about him?' Bruce
inquired. 'You said you intended to.'
'Oh yes, I did. Landi can see no sign of musical genius yet.'
'Dear, dear!' said Bruce.
'Ah, but I am convinced he's wrong. Wait a few years and you'll find
he'll agree with me yet,' said Madame Frabelle. 'I'm not at all sure,
either, that a composer like Landi is necessarily the right person to
judge of youthful genius.'
'Perhaps not. And yet you'd think he'd know a bit about it, too! I mean
to say, they wouldn't have made him a baronet if he didn't understand
his profession. Excuse my saying so, won't you?'
'Not at all,' she answered. 'It doesn't follow. I mean it doesn't follow
that he's right about Archie. Did he try the boy's voice?' she
asked Edith.
'Very much.'
'How?'
'Well, he asked Archie to sing a few notes.'
'And did he?'
'Yes, he did. But they weren't the notes Landi asked him to sing.'
'Oh!'
'Then Landi played him two tunes, and found he didn't know one from the
other.'
'Well, what of that?'
'Nothing at all. Except that it showed he had no ear, as well as no
voice. That is all.'
Madame Frabelle would never own she was beaten.
'Ah, well, well,' she said, shaking her head in an oracular way. 'You
wait!'
'Certainly. I shall.'
'By the way, I may be a little late for dinner tonight. I'm going to see
an old friend who's been wounded in the war,' Bruce told Madame
Frabelle proudly.
It had always been something of an ordeal to Edith when she knew that
Aylmer and Bruce were alone together. It was a curious feeling, combined
of loyalty to Bruce (she hated him to make himself ridiculous), loyalty
to Aylmer, and an indescribable sense of being lowered in her own eyes.
When they seemed friendly together it pained her self-respect. Most
women will understand the sensation. However, she knew it had to be, and
would be glad when it was over.