The Nonesuch

“I should rather think I did try to dodge it!” said Laurence, glaring at him. “So would you have done!”

“Never!” declared the Nonesuch. “When females throw missiles at my head I know better than to budge! Er—would it be indelicate to ask why she felt herself impelled to throw the clock at you?”

“Yes, I might have known you would think it vastly amusing!” said Laurence bitterly.

“Well, yes, I think you might!” said Sir Waldo, his eyes dancing.

Miss Trent, perceiving that her beloved had allowed himself to fall into a mood of ill-timed frivolity, directed a quelling frown at him, and said to the injured dandy: “I am so sorry, Mr Calver! I wish you will lie down again: you are not looking at all the thing, and no wonder! Your cousin may think it a jesting matter, but I am excessively grateful to you! Indeed, I cannot conceive how you were able to hold that tiresome child in check for so long!”

Slightly mollified, Laurence said: “It wasn’t easy, I can tell you, ma’am. It’s my belief she’s queer in her attic. Well, would you credit it?—she wanted me to sell her pearl necklet, or put it up the spout, just to pay for the hire of a chaise to carry her to London! I had to gammon her I’d pawned my watch instead!”

“How very wise of you!” said Miss Trent sycophantically.

“Pray do sit down, sir! I wish you will tell me—if you feel able—what caused her to—to take a sudden pet?”

“To do what?” interpolated the Nonesuch. Miss Trent, turning her back on him in a marked manner, sat down in a chair by the sofa, and smiled at Laurence encouragingly.

“You may well ask, ma’am!” said Laurence. He glanced resentfully at his cousin. “If you are fancying I was trying to make love to her, Waldo, you’re no better than a Jack Adams! For one thing, I ain’t in the petticoat-line, and for another I wouldn’t make love to that devil’s daughter if I was!”

“Of course you would not!” said Miss Trent.

“Well, I didn’t. What’s more, it wasn’t my fault at all! Mind you, I had the deuce of a task to keep her here! Still, we were going on prosperously enough until she suddenly took it into her head she must drink some tea. Why she should want to maudle her inside with tea at this time of day the lord knows, but I’d no objection, as long as it stopped her from riding grub. Which I daresay it would have done if she hadn’t asked the jobbernoll who brought in the tray what time the London Mail was expected to arrive in the town. Couldn’t catch the fellow’s eye—wasn’t close enough to give him a nudge! The silly bleater told her there wouldn’t be another till tomorrow morning. That brought the trap down! Talk of ringing a peal—! She scolded like a cat-purse! You’d have supposed I was a regular Bermondsey boy! And the waiter standing there with his mouth at half-cock, until I told him to take himself off—which I wish I hadn’t done!” Shuddering at the memory, he recruited his strength with a sip or two of cognac. “The names she called me! It beats me where she learned ’em, I can tell you that, ma’am!”

“What did she call you, Laurie?” enquired Sir Waldo, much interested.

“I wonder,” said Miss Trent, in a voice of determined coldness, “if you would be so obliging, sir, as to refrain from asking quite unimportant questions? Mr Calver, what can I say but that I am deeply mortified? As Miss Wield’s governess, I must hold myself to blame, but I trust—”

“Learned them from you, did she, ma’am?” said Sir Waldo irrepressibly.

“Very witty!” snapped Laurence. “You wouldn’t be so full of fun and gig if you’d been in my shoes!”

“Pray don’t heed your cousin!” begged Miss Trent. “Only tell me what happened!”

“Well, she twigged I’d been hoaxing her, of course, and it didn’t take her above a minute or two to guess why I’d kept her kicking her heels here. I give you my word, ma’am, if she’d had a dagger about her she’d have stuck it into me! Not that I cared for that, because I knew she hadn’t one. But the next thing was that she said she was going off to spout her pearls that instant, so that she could be gone from the place before you reached us! She’d have done it, too! What’s more, I wish I’d let her!”

“I don’t wonder at it. But you did not—which was very well done of you, sir!”