“I’m very much obliged, Mr. Breezy,” said Simpkins, who had gone white to the lips, “and also to Mrs. Breezy. It’s nice to be trusted like this, and all that. But I must say, in all honesty, I wanted to take this affair step by step, so to speak. If I’d ’ad the good fortune to be encouraged by you in my desire to ask for Lola’s ’and,”—there it came,—“I should ’ave taken a week at least to ’ave thought out the proper things to say to Lola ’erself. Sometimes there’s a little laugh in the back of ’er eyes which throws a man off his words. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed that. But this is very sudden and I shall ’ave to do a lot of thinking during the meal.”
“Oh, you English,” said John Breezy and roared with laughter. “Mong Doo!”
One of Simpkins’s hands fidgeted with his tie while the other straightened the feathers on the top of his head. Jumping Joseph, he was fairly up against it! How he wished he was a daring man who had traveled a little and read some of the modern novels. It was a frightful handicap to be so old-fashioned.
And then the ladies arrived,—Mrs. Breezy in a white fichu which looked like an antimacassar, a thing usually kept for Christmas day and wedding anniversaries; Lola in a neat blue suit and the highest spirits,—a charming costume.
Simpkins bowed. He certainly had the Grandison manner. And while Lola brought him up to date with the state of affairs, so far as she knew them, Mrs. Breezy disappeared, stood on a chair against the fence in the back yard and received the hot dishes which were handed over to her by the baker’s wife. A couple of scrawny cats, with tails erect, attracted by the aroma of hot duck, followed her to the back door,—but got no farther. “You shall have the bones,” said Mrs. Breezy, and they were duly encouraged.
The dinner was a success, even although Simpkins sat through it in one long trance. He ate well to fortify himself and it was obvious to John Breezy, sympathetic soul that he was, that his guest was rehearsing a flowery speech of proposal. The unconscious Lola kept up a merry rattle of conversation and gave them a vivid description of the village through which she had passed that afternoon and of her drive back to town alone from Aylesbury. Of Chilton Park she said nothing. It was too sacred. And when presently John Breezy’s programme was carried out, the table cleared, the two cats rewarded for their patience and Simpkins left alone with Lola, there was a moment of shattering silence. But even then Lola was unsuspecting, and it was not until the valet unbuttoned his coat to free his swelling chest and placed himself in a supplicating attitude on the sofa at her side, that she tumbled to the situation.