Lady Maude's Mania

“Yes, gov’nor, wine. Fizz. Pfungst’s dry fruity.”

“But up here, Tom!”

“Yes, up here, gov’nor. A man must have something to take the taste of this nasty wedding out of his mouth.”

“But how came it to be here, Tom?”

“I ordered the wine merchant to send it in, and here it is.”

“But does her ladyship know?”

“Skeercely, gov’nor, as the Yankee said.”

“But did – did you pay for it yourself, my boy?”

“No; I told ’em to put it down in the bill. Here, tip that off.”

Tom filled a couple of small tumblers, and handed one to his father, who took it with trembling fingers.

“But really, my boy, this is very reprehensible. I – I – I – I – as your father, I feel bound to say – ”

“Nothing at all, gov’nor. Tip it off. Do you good.”

“No, no, Tom, it’s champagne, and I – I – really, I – Now if it had been port.”

“Tip it up, gov’nor.”

“I shall investigate the whole matter, Robbins,” said a strident voice outside, and the door-handle began to turn.

“Hi! Stop! Dressing!” cried Tom, frantically.

“Do not tell untruths, sir,” exclaimed her ladyship, sternly, as she entered without the slightest hesitation. “Ah, as I expected. Wait, till the servants are gone. Robbins, take down that wine.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Not this, you don’t,” said Tom, seizing the gold-foiled bottle by the neck.

“You knew that Lord Diphoos was having cases of wine up in his bedroom, Robbins?”

“No, my lady.”

“You brought it up?”

“No, my lady – Joseph.”

“Then Joseph knew.”

“He said it was cases of modelling clay, my lady.”

“That’s right,” said Tom, “modelling clay. Try a glass, mamma, to moisten yours.”

“Take away that case.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Robbins stooped with difficulty, picked up the case, and slowly bore it out, her ladyship standing in a studied attitude pointing the while.

“Another time,” said her ladyship, turning tragically to her son, and then withering her lord. “I have too much on my mind at present to trouble about this domestic mutiny.”

“Domestic grandmother,” cried Tom. “There, you needn’t make so much fuss about it. It was all your fault, mamma.”

“My fault, sir?”

“Yes, I was driven to drink by trying to obey you, and being civil to Wilters. Hang him, he makes one a regular laughing-stock.”

“Explain yourself, sir.”

“Well, you gammoned me into going to Hurlingham with your pet poodle.”

“My pet poodle!” exclaimed her ladyship.

“Bah! yes, your pet baronet; but never any more. Hang him, he came there dressed up like a theatrical super, in grey velvet, and with a soft hat and a rosette. I felt so mad that I could have punched his head, for all the fellows there were sniggering. But you should have seen him shoot.”

“Sir Grantley told me that he was a very good shot,” said her ladyship.

“Oh, he did, did he?” roared Tom. “Bless his modesty. Well, I’m going to tell Maude that when she’s married she had better look out, and if ever she sees her lovely husband take up a gun she had better bolt – out of town – the seaside – or come home. She won’t be safe if she don’t.”

Lord Barmouth tittered at this, but his lady looked round at him so sharply, that he turned it off, and stared stolidly straight before him.

“It was a regular case of fireworks,” continued Tom. “His attitudes were grand, and he looked as if he were rehearsing something for a circus. You should have seen the fellows laugh.”

“I sincerely hope that you did not laugh,” said her ladyship, sternly.

“Oh, dear, no,” said Tom, “not at all. Didn’t even smile.”

“I’m very glad of it,” said her ladyship.

“Oh, you are? That’s right,” said Tom; “but somehow one of the buttons flew off the front of my coat, and my ribs ached, and I lay back in a chair in a state of convulsion. I nearly had a fit.”

“Diphoos!” ejaculated her ladyship.

“And when dear Grantley came up he gnashed his teeth at me. He did, ’pon my word, till I roared again. I say, gov’nor, it’s the funniest thing out to see him in a passion.”

“It seems to me,” exclaimed her ladyship, hysterically, “as if the whole of my family were leagued against me, and determined to try and break off this match. From what I can gather, it seems to me, Tom, that you have grossly insulted Sir Grantley.”

“Bosh!” said Tom. “He made such an ass of himself that I roared with laughter, and served him right.”

“Fresh insults,” cried her ladyship; “but I can wait. At present, as I before observed, I shall take no steps to check this domestic mutiny on the part of my husband and my son.”