But Madame, ever alert, stopped him. She held out a full cup. "Sir
Peter," she said, with her sweetest smile, indicating Mrs. Poskett,
"take her another dish of tea."
"Me, Ma'am!" protested the outraged Admiral; but there was no resisting
that smile, and he took it like a lamb--an angry lamb. "It's a
confounded conspiracy," he growled. He thrust the tea under Mrs.
Poskett's nose. "Your tea, Ma'am!"
"How sweet of you!" sobbed Mrs. Poskett.
The Admiral danced with rage. "Dash it and hang it, Ma'am, you're
crying into it!"
Marjolaine had taken Miss Ruth aside. "Where is Barbara?" she asked.
"It's enough to make a saint swear," answered Ruth, snappishly. "She's
been locked in with Doctor Johnson since Saturday. Locked in! Only
comes out for meals." Marjolaine laughed quietly to herself.
Sir Peter had been moving restlessly round the Walk. He now found
himself face to face with Basil. "Pringle," he said, "can you tell me
what's come over the Walk?"
Basil drew himself up. "The Walk has lofty ideals, sir," he said
sternly. "Perhaps you have fallen short of them." He turned away and
stalked towards Barbara's house.
The Admiral was left speechless. He--he! Admiral Sir Peter
Antrobus--had been snubbed by Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, by Ruth, and now by
this--this fiddler-fellow! He could only mutter, "Well!--blister my
paint--!"
He was aroused by the booming of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's voice.
"Yes, Ladies," that great man was saying, "Sherry was in fine condition
on Saturday!"
The Admiral was not going to hoist the white flag. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn
must be put in his proper place. "And port, too, eh, Brooke, my boy?"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him sternly and haughtily. "My name is
Brooke-Hoskyn, sir, and I was referring to my Right Honourable friend,
Richard Brinsley Sheridan!"
"Why couldn't you say so?" grumbled Sir Peter.
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued. "As I was about to say when--" he looked
contemptuously at the Admiral--"when I was interrupted--What wit! What
brilliance!"
"Oh, do tell us!" cried Ruth. The ladies all hung on his lips. He
tasted the full flavour of popularity. He let it linger on his palate.
He was in no hurry. "In order to appreciate the point, you must
remember how sultry the weather was on Saturday."
"Gave you a headache, what?" put in the irrepressible Admiral.
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn did his best to wither him with a look. Then he
resumed. "Brooke, says he--Brooke, my boy"--just like that--all craned
forward: they must not miss the point--"it's a very warm night." His
audience waited. Yes? The rest of the story? He looked from one to
the other a little uncomfortably. When they found nothing more was
coming they turned to each other, puzzled. Could this be all? Was their
perspicacity at fault? or where was the joke? The Admiral, bolder than
the rest, gave voice to the general feeling. "H'm. I don't see much in
that."
[Illustration: THEN HE RESUMED. "BROOKE," SAYS HE,--"BROOKE, MY
BOY,"--JUST LIKE THAT]
"Nobody ever suspected you of having a sense of humour," said Mr.
Brooke-Hoskyn, severely. However, he felt that his first effort had not
been the success he had hoped for, and he tried again. "Ah!"--said he,
brightening up, "and my friend, H.R.H. the P. of W.!" He uttered the
cabalistic letters with a mixture of mystery and airy familiarity.
There was an awed "Oh-h!" from all his hearers except Sir Peter. The
latter exclaimed impatiently, "Your friend who?"
The reply came with crushing weight. "His Royal Highness the Prince of
Wales, sir!" The Admiral reeled under the shock of this broadside.
Mrs. Poskett leant forward eagerly. "What did the dear Prince say? My
poor husband knew him well," she explained. "When Mr. Alderman Poskett
was Sheriff, the dear Prince frequently dined with the Corporation, and
many 's the time he said to Poskett, 'Mr. Sheriff, you must be
knighted,' but Poskett went and died--"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was annoyed. He was being interrupted, which is a
thing intolerable, and his own anecdote was being supplanted. He held
up a deprecatory hand. "It was not so much what he said," he explained,
"as his manner of saying it. Just:--'Ah, Brooke!'--but oh! the
elegance! Oh, the condescension!"