THE SELF-INVITED GUEST
When Noel Wyndham entered Mrs. Musgrave's drawing-room that night, he
was wearing his most alluring smile. He was evidently prepared to charm
and be charmed; and his host, who privately regarded this addition to
the party as a decided nuisance, could not but extend to him a cordial
welcome. Will Musgrave, though grave and even by some deemed austere,
was never churlish. He was a civil engineer of some repute, and had
earned for himself a reputation for hard work which was certainly well
deserved.
Nick Ratcliffe had been his close friend from boyhood, and the chance
that had stationed him within a short distance of the native city of
Sharapura in which Nick was for the next few months to take up his abode
was regarded by both as a singularly happy one. It was not surprising
therefore that he could not bring himself to look upon Noel's advent on
that, their first evening together, with much enthusiasm.
His wife had broken the news with semi-humorous apologies. "I couldn't
resist him, Will. You know what that boy is. Really I didn't ask him. He
asked himself."
"Oh, all right," Will had replied, with resignation. "You'll have to
look after him, and see he doesn't try to flirt too outrageously at
first sight."
"I'll try," she had assented somewhat dubiously.
For Noel always flirted with every woman he met, herself included, and
it was really quite impossible to stop him, or even to discourage him.
He only laughed at snubs, and pursued his airy flights with keener zest.
She was not in the drawing-room when the self-invited guest arrived, and
it fell to her husband to receive and entertain him. Noel, however, was
extremely easy to entertain at all times. He was never bored.
"It was so awfully good of Mrs. Musgrave to let me come," he observed to
his host, on shaking hands. "I had to beg jolly hard, I can tell you.
She thought your other visitors might consider me one too many. But I'm
sure they won't, and I'm immensely keen on meeting them. Have they
arrived?"
"Two hours ago," said Will Musgrave.
"That's all right. My brother-in-law knows Ratcliffe, but I've never had
the good luck to meet him. Something of a fire-eater, isn't he?"
Will laughed. "Oh, quite a giant in his own line."
Noel nodded. "Just as well. They are wanting a giant pretty badly up at
the city if report says true. That young Akbar needs a firm hand. He
passed us on parade yesterday, went by like the devil, kicking up a dust
fit to choke the lot of us. Beastly young cad!"
"Ah! He isn't over fond of the Indian Army," said Will.
"The Indian Army would give him a damn good hiding if it got the
chance," returned Noel, in righteous indignation. "I hope Ratcliffe will
rub that into him well. The place is simply swarming with malcontents,
and he encourages them. I believe they even flatter themselves we are
afraid of 'em."
"I shouldn't say anything of that kind before Miss Ratcliffe," said
Will. "She has just got over a severe illness, and may be nervous."
"Great Scotland! This isn't the place for anyone with nerves!"
ejaculated Noel. "I heard this morning that there's a most ferocious
man-eater in the Khantali district. I'm longing to have a shot at him,
but they say he's as cunning as Beelzebub, and never shows unless he has
some game on. And the jungle's so beastly thick all round there. It
doesn't give anyone a chance. Why can't His Objectionable Excellency
turn his hand to something useful, and clear some of it away? By the
way, I tried to catch a _karait_ this morning. I am going to start a
menagerie for Peggy's edification. But our _khit_, who is a very
officious person when he isn't wrapt in contemplation of nothing in
particular, interfered and killed the little beast before I had time to
explain. I told him he was a silly ass, but he seemed to think he had
done something praiseworthy. What's the best remedy for a _karait's_
bite?"
"The only known remedy is to sit down and die with as good a grace as
possible," said Nick, entering at the moment. "But it's just as well to
be sure it is a _karait_ before you take those measures, as there are
more hopeful remedies for other species." He held out his hand to Noel
with a cheery smile. "Pleased to meet you. I have already made the
acquaintance of one member of your illustrious family."
"Have you though?" said Noel. "That's rather a handicap for me, isn't
it?"
Nick's glance travelled swiftly over him and passed. "If you're as good
a chap as your brother, you'll do," he said.
"Oh, I'm not," said Noel hastily. "If you're talking about Max, he's the
only respectable Wyndham there is, and that's only because he hasn't
time to be anything else. He wrote and told me you were coming here. I
was at Budhpore then, but I set to work double quick and got myself
transferred."
"What for?" said Nick.
Noel winked confidentially. "I wanted to see the fun," he said.
Again for the passage of a second Nick's eyes regarded him, and then
over the shrewd, yellow face there flashed a sudden smile. "Are you a
cricketer?" said Nick.
"You bet I am!" said Noel boyishly.
Nick nodded. "I was myself once."
"Only once, Nick?" protested Musgrave, with a smile that was scarcely
humorous.
Nick turned to him with a semi-rueful grimace. "Oh, my cricketing days
are over. All I'm good for now is to teach other fellows the rules of
the game."
At this point a high voice made itself heard in the distance,
imperiously demanding Noel's presence.
"Oh, Jupiter!" exclaimed Noel. "That's Peggy! Excuse me, you chaps! She
has been saving up her prayers for my benefit, and I came early on
purpose!"
He was gone with the words, with all an ardent lover's alacrity, and
Will Musgrave smiled.
"He's a heady youngster, but there's real stuff in him."
"Sound, is he?" said Nick.
"I should say so; but fancy he's a bit fiery," said Will.
There was nothing to denote fieriness in Noel's attitude as he composed
himself a few seconds later for the ceremony of Peggy's devotions. It
was a very simple ceremony, but conducted with extreme decorum, Peggy's
_ayah_ being sternly dismissed as a preliminary.
Noel sat on the edge of the bed while its small owner knelt upon it,
head bowed in hands and lodged upon his shoulder. He had made a
tentative movement to encircle her with his arm, but this had been
gently but quite firmly forbidden.
"You mustn't cuddle while I'm sayin' my prayers," said Peggy. "You must
put your hands together and shut your eyes. That's what Mummy does."
Noel complied with these instructions, but when Peggy was fairly
launched he ventured to violate the last and steal a look at the fair
head that rested against his shoulder.
Peggy was saying the Lord's Prayer with evident enjoyment. Noel listened
with respect. There was the swish of a woman's dress in the passage
outside. He listened to that also, his dark eyes watching the half-open
door. His attention began to wander.
"Noel!" said a small, hurt voice at his side.
Noel's eyes shut as if at the pulling of a string. "Sorry, Peg-top! Go
ahead!"
"You mustn't call me Peg-top when I'm sayin' my prayers!" protested
Peggy. "I wanted you to say Amen."
"Amen," said Noel humbly.
"It's no good now." There was a sound of tears in Peggy's voice. "You've
just spoilt it all."
"Oh, I say!" pleaded Noel. "Well, try again! I'll say it next time."
"Can't," said Peggy. "It's wrong to keep on sayin' the same thing."
"I never heard that before," said Noel.
"It's in the Bible," asserted Peggy.
"Is it?" Noel sounded faintly incredulous.
"Yes, it is." There was a touch of indignation in Peggy's rejoinder.
"It's what the heathen do," she said.
Noel ventured to open his eyes, and found hers fixed severely upon him.
"Well, I'm awfully sorry," he said. "What had we better do?"
"You're not sorry," said Peggy accusingly. "Your eyes are all laughy."
"I'll swear they're not," declared Noel. "But I say, hadn't you better
finish? Then we can have a cuddle."
"But I can't finish," said Peggy.
"Why not?"
"'Cos you interrupted, and I can't begin again." There was more than the
sound of tears this time; the blue eyes were suddenly swimming in them.
"And I haven't said my hymn, and you don't care a bit," she said in a
voice that quivered ominously. Matters were evidently getting desperate.
"Yes, but you can say the rest," argued Noel, with the feeling that he
was losing ground every instant. "What do you generally say next?"
"No, I can't. It wouldn't be sayin' them properly, and God doesn't
listen if you don't say them properly."
Here was a formidable difficulty; but Noel's brain was fertile. He had a
sudden inspiration. "Look here!" he said. "I'll say the first part again
for you, and you can say Amen. I haven't said mine yet, you know, so it
doesn't matter for me. Then you can go on and finish. Will that do?"
Peggy gave the matter her grave consideration, and decided that it
would. "But you must kneel down," she said.
There was no sound in the passage now. Noel peered in that direction,
but detected nothing. Patiently he slipped on to his knees, and began to
recite the Lord's Prayer.
Considering the difficulties under which he laboured, he acquitted
himself with considerable credit. Peggy at least was fully satisfied, a
fact to which her fervent "Amen"! abundantly testified. She took up her
own petitions at once quite impressively, albeit with slightly
accelerated speed to make up for lost time. At the end of her hymn she
paused.
"Would you like me to ask God to make me grow up quick so that we can be
married soon, Noel?" she asked.
"I shouldn't." said Noel.
"Not?" The wedgewood-blue eyes opened wide.
"No. Very likely you won't want to marry me when you're grown up," Noel
explained.
Peggy was amazed at the bare suggestion of such a possibility. "Why, of
course I'll want to marry you," she declared, hugging him. "You're the
wery nicest man that ever was."
"No, I'm not. I'm a rotter," Noel made brief and unvarnished reply. "No
one knows what I am--except myself. And no one ever will," he added
almost fiercely. And then, with lightning change of front, he laughed.
"Never mind! We'll go on being sweethearts. That's better than nothing,
isn't it?"
Peggy was looking at him very seriously. "I'd go on lovin' you even
if--if--you was to kill someone," she said.
"Thanks, Peg-top! Well, I've never done that yet, though there's no
knowing how soon I may begin," said Noel carelessly.
"Oh, but it's very wicked to kill people." There was shocked reproof in
Peggy's tone.
"Depends," said Noel judicially. "Sometimes it's the only thing to do."
"Oh, Noel!" Peggy's disapproval was evidently struggling with her
loyalty.
Something white gleamed in the doorway, and Noel's eyes suddenly
sparkled. He abandoned the argument without a second thought.
"Pray come in!" he said. "Peggy is holding a reception. She always
receives at this hour. Now, Peggy, stand up and tell this lady my name!"
"May I really come in for a moment?" said Olga. She stood hesitating on
the threshold, a slim, girlish figure. "Don't let me disturb you! Mrs.
Musgrave thinks she must have left her rings here. How do you do?"
She gave her hand to Noel who had moved to meet her He laughed
audaciously into her face.
"Awfully pleased to meet you, Miss--er--Ratcliffe! Why didn't you come
in before? I was in a beastly tight fix, and should have been glad of
your assistance. I knew you were there."
"Did you?" she said. The smile that had grown so rare flashed over her
face in response to his. "I wasn't eavesdropping really," she assured
him. "I was only waiting for a suitable moment to present myself."
"Could any moment be anything else?" he asked her, bowing deeply.
She laughed at that without the faintest coquetry. "Very easily, I
should say. Isn't little Peggy going to bed?"
"Of course she is," said Noel. "Hop in, infant! We've been officiating
at a wedding to-day, she and I, and the excitement has turned our heads
a little. That's the way, mavourneen!" as Peggy, a little shy in the
presence of the newcomer, slipped into her bed. "You didn't introduce me
though, did you?"
Peggy held his hand in embarrassed silence.
"Peggy scarcely knows me herself yet," said Olga. "Don't you think we
might manage without?"
"I dared not have suggested it myself," said Noel, with an ease that
belied him. "If we do that, we may as well pretend we're old
acquaintances at once."
"Perhaps," said Olga. She was searching for her hostess's rings and
spoke with a somewhat absent air.
"Especially as my name is Wyndham," he said.
She stopped short in her search and seemed to stiffen. Then slowly she
turned towards him. "You are Max's--Dr. Wyndham's--brother!"
"I have that honour," said Noel drily.
She stood quite still for a moment; then: "I knew he had a brother in
India," she said. "But I didn't know we were likely to meet."
"That," said Noel, "was partly his doing and partly mine. He wrote and
told me that Captain Ratcliffe was coming to Sharapura, and I at once
took steps to get myself transferred to the battalion here."
"Oh! Then you know Nick?"
"By repute," smiled Noel. "A good many people in India can say the same,
though he may be without honour in his own country."
"Indeed he isn't!" said Olga proudly. "He is a hero wherever he goes."
"And you have come to take care of him?" asked Noel.
She faced him. "Did you know I was coming?"
"No. I thought it was Mrs. Ratcliffe. Max writes an abominable fist."
She seemed relieved. "Yes, I have come to take care of him. He never
takes care of himself."
"And you know how to make him do as he is told?" asked Noel.
She smiled. "Oh, yes, I am quite capable. It isn't the first time I have
taken care of him. We are very old pals."
"I envy you both," said Noel. "Is this what you are looking for?"
He had spied a ring under the edge of Peggy's biscuit-plate. He held it
out to her with a graceful flourish.
But at this point Peggy, who had begun to feel neglected, overcame her
shyness and shrilly intervened.
"Noel, that's not the way! You should say, 'With this ring--'"
"Peggy!" Noel interrupted, "you're going too fast. I'm much too old to
travel at that pace. I will say good-night to you before you get me into
trouble."
He stooped to kiss her, but Peggy was clinging like a marmoset round
his neck when he stood up again. His brown face laughed through her
curls.
"We're a horribly spoony couple," he said to Olga. "We've known each
other just six weeks, and we got engaged to-day."
"Do you often get engaged like that?" asked Olga.
"Oh, rather!" said Noel. "It's much more fun than getting married.
Cheaper too, and not so monotonous!" Again he laughed. "I assure you
it's the easiest thing in the world to get engaged. Never tried it?"
It was unpardonably audacious; but that was Noel Wyndham's way, and
somehow no one ever took offence.
Olga did not take offence, but she winced ever so slightly; a fact which
Noel obviously failed to observe, being occupied with the difficult task
of releasing himself from Peggy's ardent embraces.
When he finally obtained his freedom and stood up, Olga had passed out
again into the passage. He threw a last kiss to his small sweetheart,
and hurried after her.