Lady Maude's Mania

“No, no, my boy, pray don’t,” said the old gentleman, anxiously, “and I’ll never do so any more.”

“Till the very next time,” said Tom, sharply. “Gov’nor, you’re afraid of the servants, and you are always stealing something.”

“I – I – I am a little afraid of Robbins,” faltered the old man gently; “and that big footman Joseph rather looks at me; but, Tom, my boy, it ought not to be stealing for me to take my own things.”

“Well, I suppose not, gov’nor; but it really is absurd to see you send a chicken bone flying across a drawing-room when you take out your handkerchief and your coat-tails stiff with gravy.”

“It is, my son,” said the old man, hastily; “but about Charley Melton. I like him, Tom.”

“And so do I, father. – He’s my friend, and I’ll stick to him too.”

He said the latter words in the hall, as he put on his hat and took his cane, paused to light a very strong cigar of the kind her ladyship detested to smell in the house, and then, with his hat cocked defiantly on one side, sallied out, looking so small in Great Portland Place that he seemed lost.

As the door closed upon him, Lord Barmouth came out of the lavatory, and met Robbins the butler and a footman coming to clear away the lunch things.

Lord Barmouth looked up and down, and then took the pompous butler by the button.

“Robbins,” he said, “if her ladyship does not object, I shall not wear my second dress suit any more.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said the butler with solemn dignity.

“And, Robbins,” added his lordship, in a hurried whisper, “what did you do with that piece of tongue?”

“Took it down into the kitchen, my lord.”

“Ask Mrs Downes to give it back to you, Robbins – for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Wrap it up in paper, Robbins.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And by the way, Robbins,” continued the old gentleman, after a sharp look round, like a sparrow in fear of cats, “could you oblige me with five pounds?”

“Well really, my lord – you see you owe me – ”

“Sixty-five, Robbins.”

“And interest, my lord.”

“Of course, Robbins, of course; and you shall have it all back; but you see, Robbins, it is not always easy to lay one’s hands on a few pounds to give to my son. You know it is quite safe.”

“Oh, of course, my lord.”

“I don’t like to be so situated that I cannot oblige him with a sovereign now and then.”

“Of course not, my lord. Will your lordship be good enough to write me an I.O.U.?”

“Certainly, Robbins, certainly. There – there – that’s it. I.O.U. five pounds – Barmouth. Thank you, Robbins; you are a most valuable servant.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I’ve put you down for something handsome in my will, Robbins, so that if I should die some day, as I probably shall, you’ll burn these I.O.U.s, Robbins, and pay yourself out of what I’ve left.”

“Certainly, my lord; but suppose – ”

“The will is disputed? Oh no, Robbins, I can do what I like with my money then, and I shall not be ungrateful.”

The old man took the five pounds and went off, chuckling with delight at being able to supply Tom with a little hard cash next time that gentleman was short, which would be next day; while the butler said something to himself which sounded like —

“Poor old magpie. Well, he ain’t a bad sort, and that’s more than you can say of the dragon.”

Chapter Nine.

Love me, Love my Dog

There was gravel to be ground in Hyde Park, but Lady Maude declined to assist in the operation, pleading a bad headache; so Lady Barmouth took her carriage exercise alone, while his lordship watched till the barouche had gone, when he went up and sat by his child in the drawing-room, and talked to her for a time, ending by selecting a comfortable chair and going off fast asleep.

He had not been unconscious five minutes before Maude heard a bit of a disturbance, and directly after there was a scratching at the drawing-room door.

She started and listened, with the colour coming and going in her cheeks, when the scratching was repeated, and on her opening the door Joby trotted in, looked at her, gave his tail a wag to the right and a wag to the left. When, catching sight of Lord Barmouth, his canine nature got the better of him, and trotting up to the easy-chair, he sniffed two or three times at his lordship’s pocket, ending by laying his massive jowl upon the old man’s knee.

Maude trembled as she watched the dog, and her face was flaming, but she dared not move.

The old gentleman half woke up, and realised the fact of the dog being there, for he put out his thin white hand, and patted the great head, and rubbed Joby’s ears, muttering softly, “Good dog, then; poor old fellow,” and then went off fast asleep.

Joby pushed his head a little farther up, and then had another sniff at the pocket. After this, giving his lordship up for a bad job, or roused to a sense of duty, he trotted over to Maude, laid his head in her lap, and stared up at her with his great eyes.

It seemed a shame to be so lavish of such sweet kisses, and on a dog’s forehead; but all the same Maude bestowed them there, and the ugly brute blinked and snuffled and whined softly. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike Maude though, and her little fingers began to busy themselves about the dog’s collar, to tremble visibly, and at last with a faint cry of joy she detached a note folded in a very small compass, and fitted in a little packet of leather the colour of the dog’s skin.

Trembling with eagerness she was about to open it, when the door was opened, and Robbins entered to announce —

“Sir Grantley Wilters.”

Maude turned from crimson to white, and Joby crept slowly under the couch, resenting an offer made by the butler to drive him out by such a display of white teeth that the pompous domestic said to himself that the dog might stay as long as he liked, for it wasn’t his place to interfere.

Sir Grantley’s costume was faultless, for he was a fortune to his tradespeople – the tightest of coats and gloves, the shiniest of boots, and the choicest of “button-holes,” displayed in a tiny glass of water pinned in the fold of his coat, as he came in, hat and cane in one hand, and a little toy terrier in the other – one of those unpleasantly diminutive creatures whose legs seem as if they are not safe, and whose foreheads and eyes indicate water on the brain.

“Ah, Lady Maude. Delighted to find you alone,” said the baronet, advancing and extinguishing the dog with his hat, so as to leave his tightly-gloved hand free to salute the lady.

“I am not alone,” said Maude quietly, and she pointed to his lordship’s chair.

“No: to be sure. Asleep! Well, I really thought you were alone, don’t you know.”

“Papa often comes and sits with me now,” said Maude, quietly.

“Very charming of him, very,” said Sir Grantley. “Quite well?”