“I didn’t let her catch me, Lady Mickleham,” I pleaded.
Lady Mickleham grew quite red. This made me feel more at my ease.
“No, sir. If you had--”
“Goodness knows!” I murmured, shaking my head.
“As it happened, however, my son entered in the middle of this
disgraceful--”
“It was at the beginning,” said I, with a regretful sigh.
Upon this--and I have really never been so pleased at anything in all my
life--the Countess, the violence of her emotions penetrating to her very
fingers, gripped the handle of her “starers” with such force that she
broke it in two! She was a woman of the world, and in a moment she
looked as if nothing had happened. With me it was different; and that
I am not now on Lady Mickleham’s visiting list is due to (inter alia et
enormia) the fact that I laughed! It was out before I could help it. In
a second I was as grave as a mute. The mischief was done. The Countess
rose. I imitated her example.
“You are amused?” said she, and her tones banished the last of my mirth.
I stumbled on my hat and it rolled to her feet.
“It is not probable,” she observed, “that after Miss Foster’s marriage
you will meet her often. You will move in--er--somewhat different
circles.”
“I may catch a glimpse of her in her carriage from the top of my ‘bus,”
said I.
Lady Mickleham rang the bell. I stooped for my hat. To tell the truth,
I was rather afraid to expose myself in such a defenseless attitude, but
the Countess preserved her self control. The butler opened the door. I
bowed, and left the Countess regarding me through the maimed “starers.”
Then I found the butler smiling. He probably knew the signs of the
weather. I wouldn’t be Lady Mickleham’s butler if you made me a duke.
As I walked home through the Park, I met Miss Dolly and Mickleham. They
stopped.