A remarkably dandified Tommy; a solemn and significant Tommy, who shook
hands solemnly with his sister and Carron and then sat down and took off
his gloves.
"I have come on business, Brigit," he announced quietly.
Carron rose. "Then I will go. Thanks very much, Brigit, for your
hospitality--and I will look in again in three or four weeks, if you
don't mind."
Tommy's frame of mind was too dignified to permit of his staring, but he
was obviously surprised at Carron's presence, and when the man had gone
he said with considerable importance: "Since when has Carron been
calling on you?"
"This is the first time. Oh, Tommy--should you have come?"
"I have just left mother at Aunt Emily's," he answered, his voice
explaining plainly what his dignity forbade his putting into words.
So her mother knew!
"New clothes; also gloves; also something smelly and _very_ nice on your
hair!"
Brigit bent over and kissed him tenderly, her face very sweet with
affection. "Please elucidate, little brother. Has mother sent you?"
"No. She knows I have come, though."
"Some tea?"
"If you please."
So she lit the kettle and going to a cupboard produced two
enchanting-looking white jars. "Marmalade or cherry jam?"
"I think--neither, please," returned Kingsmead, with an effort. "I--am
not hungry."
It was all very mysterious, and Brigit, scanning the little boy's face,
saw that he was nervous as well as important; pale as well as elegant in
attire. So she made the tea and gave him a cup in silence.
After a long pause he cleared his throat and began. "Brigit, of course
I'm only a kid--and all that sort of thing."
"Yes, dear?"
"And you are grown up, and have a great deal more--well, experience than
I. And then you are very beautiful, and I am--not," he added with a
flicker of irrepressible mirth that was immediately quenched.
"Yes, Tommy?"
"Well--I just say all that, dear old thing, so you won't think me sidey,
you know."
"I don't, Tommy. In fact, I have sometimes observed in you symptoms of
almost radical----"
"Don't laugh, Brigit," he broke in with a quaint wave of his hand. "What
I mean to say is simply this. I am, although so young, and not very
big--the Head of the Family."
This magnificent declaration was so unlike his usual style of
conversation that his sister with difficulty refrained from laughing.
"Well, Tommy--yes, there would be no use in my denying that you, not I,
are the Earl of Kingsmead. But--your manner is somewhat solemn; surely
you are not thinking of marrying?"
The earl's mouth broadened spasmodically, and his eyes gleamed with
amusement.
"I say, Bick, if you laugh at me, how on earth am I ever to get it
said?"
"All right. Only take some jam and don't terrify me with magnificence.
This is the first time to my knowledge that an earl has ever shed the
effulgence of his presence in these humble walls----"
Tommy's grandeur gave up the ghost, and with a yell of delight he dived
deep into one of the jars and heaped his plate with suspiciously crimson
cherry jam.
"Good old Bick! I must have looked an awful little ass. But--well,
_will_ you chuck it all and come home?"
"Oho!"
"Yes, 'oho' as much as you like, but it is all rot your living here, and
_she_ hates it, and it's unpleasant all round. Besides the country is
really lovely now, and I miss you."
"Do you, Tommy dear?"
"I do."
"Did mother send you?"
"No. She said you wouldn't come if she did, but that you might if I--if
I----"
"If you exerted your authority as Head of the Family!"
"Well, yes." Tommy, now completely shamefaced, took more jam and handed
back his cup.
"She _is_ funny," mused Brigit. "To have so little sense of humour."
"That's what I told her. But Aunt Emily says people are talking about
your living alone, etc. And--besides, I think she is really rather fond
of you, Bick."
"Oh, no, she isn't. However, M. l'Ambassadeur, you have fulfilled your
mission, so be content."
Tommy paused in his task of biting into a piece of cake and looked up at
her. "Then--you will?"
"No, dear; I most certainly won't. But don't you bother about that. I
like this very well, and after all it isn't for long."
"Oh. You mean you are going to marry Théo. When?"
"In October, probably. Nothing is settled. More jam?"
"No, thanks. I say, Bicky, what are you going to do in September?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Because they are all going to Là-bas, to the Golden Wedding. They were
talking about it the other day. Are you going, too?"
She shook her head. "Oh, no. But I daresay I shall be with the Lenskys
then. I can't go now, because one of the children is ill."
Tommy rose and looked at his watch, a shadow of his former proud manner
settling on him as he put on his gloves. "She will be very much
disappointed," he remarked, "but I don't see how she can forbid my
coming here now, do you?"
"No, of course she can't. And oh, Tommy, I have missed you! Are you at
Golden Square to-night?"
"Yes. Coming to supper?"
"I think so. Good-bye, you darling little boy."
After he had closed the door, Tommy pounded on it until she opened it.
"I say, Bicky, what happens to ambassadors who fail in their missions?"
he asked, winking delightedly.