It Happened in Egypt | Page 3

for his millionaire girl would
be child's play to what might happen, before such a mistake was found
out if once it was made. That's just one of the hundred reasons why it
would be as safe for Monny Gilder to travel with a bomb in her
dressing-bag as to have me in her train of dependants. She telegraphed
to New York for me, because of a stupid thing I said in a letter, about
being lonely: though she pretends it would be too dull journeying to
such a romantic country alone with a mere aunt. And she thinks I
'attract adventures.' It's only too true. But I couldn't resist her. Nobody
can. Why, the first time I ever saw Monny she'd cast herself down in a
mud-puddle, and was screaming and kicking because she wanted to
walk while one adoring father, one sycophantic governess and two
trained nurses wanted her to get into an automobile. That was on my
honeymoon--heaven save the mark--! and Monny was nine. She has
other ways now of getting what she wants, but they're even more
effective. I laughed at her that first time, and she was so surprised at my
impudence she took a violent fancy to me. But I don't always laugh at
her now. Oh, she's a perfect terror, I assure you--and a still more perfect

darling! Such an angel of charity to the poor, such a demon of
obstinacy with the rich! I worship her. So does Cleopatra. So does
everybody who doesn't hate her. So will you the minute you've been
introduced. And by the way, why not? Why shouldn't I make myself
useful for once by arranging a match between Rosamond Gilder, the
prettiest heiress in America, and Lord Ernest Borrow, of the oldest
family in Ireland?"
"And the poorest."
"All the more reason why. Don't you see?"
"She mightn't."
"Well, what's the good of her having all that money if she doesn't get
hold of a really grand title to hang it on? I shall tell her that Borrow
comes down from Boru, Brian Boru the rightful King of Ireland: and
when your brother dies you'll be Marquis of Killeena."
"He'll not die for thirty or forty years, let's hope."
"Why hope it, when he likes nobody and nobody likes him, and
everybody likes you? He can't be happy. And anyhow, isn't it worth a
few millions to be Lady Ernest Borrow, and have the privilege of
restoring the most beautiful old castle in Ireland? I'm sure Killeena
would let her."
"He would, out of sheer, weak kindness of heart! But she's far too
thickly gilded an heiress for me to aspire to. A few thousands a year is
my most ambitious figure for a wife. Look at the men collecting around
her and the wonderful lady you call Cleopatra. Why Cleopatra? Did
sponsors in baptism--"
"No, they didn't. Why she's Cleopatra is as weird a history as why I'm
Mrs. Jones. But she's Monny's aunt--at least, she's a half-sister of Peter
Gilder, and as his only living relative his will makes her Monny's
guardian till the girl marries or reaches twenty-five. A strange guardian!
But he didn't know she was going to turn into Cleopatra. She wisely

waited to do that until he was dead; so it came on only a year ago. It
was a Bond Street crystal-gazer transplanted to Fifth Avenue told her
who she really was: you know Sayda Sabri, the woman who has the
illuminated mummy? It's Cleopatra's idea that Monny's second
mourning for Peter should be white, nothing but white."
"Her idea! But I thought Miss Monny, as you call her, adopted only her
own ideas. How can a mere half-aunt, labouring under the name of
Cleopatra, force her--"
"Well, you see, white's very becoming; and as for the Cleopatra part, it
pleases our princess to tolerate that. It's part of the queer history that's
mixing me up with the family. We've come to spend the season in
Egypt because Cleopatra thinks she's Cleopatra; also because Monny
(that's what she's chosen to call herself since she tried to lisp
'Resamond' and couldn't) because Monny has read 'The Garden of
Allah,' and wants the 'desert to take her.' That book had nothing to do
with Egyptian deserts; but any desert will do for Monny. What she
expects it to do with her exactly when it has taken her, on the strength
of a Cook ticket, I don't quite know; but I may later, because she vows
she'll keep me at her side with hooks of steel all through the
tour--unless something worse happens to me, or to some of us because
of me." "Biddy, dear, don't be morbid. Nothing bad will happen," I
tried to reassure her.
"Thank you for saying so. It cheers