Ruggles of Red Gap | Page 5

a
certain laxness that has hampered him. And most stubborn he is, and
wilful. At games he is almost quite a duffer. I once got him to play
outside left on a hockey eleven and he excited much comment, some of
which was of a favourable nature, but he cares little for hunting or
shooting and, though it is scarce a matter to be gossiped of, he loathes
cricket. Perhaps I have disclosed enough concerning him. Although the
Vane-Basingwells have quite almost always married the right people,
the Honourable George was beyond question born queer.
Again, in the matter of marriage, he was difficult. His lordship, having
married early into a family of poor lifes, was now long a widower, and
meaning to remain so he had been especially concerned that the
Honourable George should contract a proper alliance. Hence our
constant worry lest he prove too susceptible out of his class. More than

once had he shamefully funked his fences. There was the distressing
instance of the Honourable Agatha Cradleigh. Quite all that could be
desired of family and dower she was, thirty-two years old, a bit faded
though still eager, with the rather immensely high forehead and long,
thin, slightly curved Cradleigh nose.
The Honourable George at his lordship's peppery urging had at last
consented to a betrothal, and our troubles for a time promised to be
over, but it came to precisely nothing. I gathered it might have been
because she wore beads on her gown and was interested in uplift work,
or that she bred canaries, these birds being loathed by the Honourable
George with remarkable intensity, though it might equally have been
that she still mourned a deceased fiancé of her early girlhood, a curate,
I believe, whose faded letters she had preserved and would read to the
Honourable George at intimate moments, weeping bitterly the while.
Whatever may have been his fancied objection--that is the time we
disappeared and were not heard of for near a twelvemonth.
Wondering now I was how we should last until the next quarter's
allowance. We always had lasted, but each time it was a different way.
The Honourable George at a crisis of this sort invariably spoke of
entering trade, and had actually talked of selling motor-cars, pointing
out to me that even certain rulers of Europe had frankly entered this
trade as agents. It might have proved remunerative had he known
anything of motor-cars, but I was more than glad he did not, for I have
always considered machinery to be unrefined. Much I preferred that he
be a company promoter or something of that sort in the city, knowing
about bonds and debentures, as many of the best of our families are not
above doing. It seemed all he could do with propriety, having failed in
examinations for the army and the church, and being incurably hostile
to politics, which he declared silly rot.
Sharply at midnight I aroused myself from these gloomy thoughts and
breathed a long sigh of relief. Both gipsy and psychic expert had failed
in their prophecies. With a lightened heart I set about the preparations I
knew would be needed against the Honourable George's return. Strong
in my conviction that he would not have been able to resist lobster, I

made ready his hot foot-bath with its solution of brine-crystals and put
the absorbent fruit-lozenges close by, together with his sleeping-suit,
his bed-cap, and his knitted night-socks. Scarcely was all ready when I
heard his step.
He greeted me curtly on entering, swiftly averting his face as I took his
stick, hat, and top-coat. But I had seen the worst at one glance. The
Honourable George was more than spotted--he was splotchy. It was as
bad as that.
"Lobster and oysters," I made bold to remark, but he affected not to
have heard, and proceeded rapidly to disrobe. He accepted the foot-bath
without demur, pulling a blanket well about his shoulders, complaining
of the water's temperature, and demanding three of the fruit-lozenges.
"Not what you think at all," he then said. "It was that cursed bar-le-duc
jelly. Always puts me this way, and you quite well know it."
"Yes, sir, to be sure," I answered gravely, and had the satisfaction of
noting that he looked quite a little foolish. Too well he knew I could
not be deceived, and even now I could surmise that the lobster had been
supported by sherry. How many times have I not explained to him that
sherry has double the tonic vinosity of any other wine and may not be
tampered with by the sensitive. But he chose at present to make light of
it, almost as if he were chaffing above his knowledge of some calamity.
"Some book Johnny says a chap is either a fool