The Sunny Side | Page 5

smaller than six of us like this; and when
they see our luggage--"
"Let's go back," I suggested, suddenly nervous. To be five guests of the
guest of a man you have never met is delicate work.
At this critical moment Archie assumed command. He is a Captain in
the Yeomanry and has tackled bigger jobs than this in his time.
"We must get ourselves into proper order," he said. "Simpson, the villa
has been lent to you; you must go first. Dahlia and I come next. When
we arrive you will introduce us as your friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Mannering. Then turning to Myra you say, 'Mr. Mannering's sister; and
this,' you add, 'is her husband.' Then--er--Thomas--"
"It will be difficult to account for Thomas," I said. "Thomas comes at
the end. He hangs back a little at first; and then if he sees that there is
going to be any awkwardness about him, he can pretend he's come on
the wrong night, and apologize and go home again."
"If Thomas goes, I go," said Myra dramatically.
"I have another idea," I said. "Thomas hides here for a bit. We
introduce ourselves and settle in, and have lunch; and after lunch we
take a stroll in the garden, and to our great surprise discover Thomas.
'Thomas,' we say, 'you here? Dear old chap, we thought you were in

England. How splendid! Where are you staying? Oh, but you must stop
with us; we can easily have a bed put up for you in the garage.' And
then--"
"Not after lunch," said Thomas; "before lunch."
"Don't all be so silly," smiled Dahlia. "They'll wonder what has
happened to us if we wait any longer. Besides, the men will be here
with the luggage directly. Come along."
"Samuel," said Archie, "forward."
In our new formation we marched up, Simpson excited and rehearsing
to himself the words of introduction, we others outwardly calm. At a
range of ten yards he opened fire. "How do you do?" he beamed. "Here
we all are! Isn't it a lovely--"
The cook-housekeeper, majestic but kindly, came forward with
outstretched hand and welcomed him volubly--in French. The other
three ladies added their French to hers. There was only one English
body on the loggia. It belonged to a bull-dog. The bull-dog barked
loudly at Simpson in English.
There was no "Cook's homme" to save Simpson this time. But he rose
to the occasion nobly. The scent of the mimosa inspired him.
"Merci," he said, "merci. Oui, n'est ce pas! Delightful. Er--these
are--ces sont mes amis. Er--Dahlia, come along--er, Monsieur et
Madame Mannering--er--Myra, la soeur de Monsieur--er--where are
you, old chap?--le mari de la soeur de Monsieur. Er--Thomas--er--" (he
was carried away by memories of his schoolboy French), "le frère du
jardinier--er--" He wheeled round and saw me; introduced me again;
introduced Myra as my wife, Archie as her brother, and Dahlia as
Archie's wife; and then with a sudden inspiration presented Thomas
grandly as "le beau-père du petit fils de mes amis Monsieur et Madame
Mannering." Thomas seemed more assured of his place as Peter's
godfather than as the brother of the gardener.

There were four ladies; we shook hands with all of them. It took us a
long time, and I doubt if we got it all in even so, for twice I found
myself shaking hands with Simpson. But these may have been
additional ones thrown in. It was over at last, and we followed the staff
indoors.
And then we had another surprise. It was broken to us by Dahlia, who,
at Simpson's urgent request, took up the position of lady of the house,
and forthwith received the flowing confidences of the housekeeper.
"Two of us have to sleep outside," she said.
"Where?" we all asked blankly.
We went on to the loggia again, and she pointed to a little house almost
hidden by olive-trees in a corner of the garden below us.
"Oh, well, that's all right," said Archie. "It's on the estate. Thomas, you
and Simpson won't mind that a bit, will you?"
"We can't turn Samuel out of his own house," said Myra indignantly.
"We aren't turning him; he wants to go. But, of course, if you and your
young man would like to live there instead--"
Myra looked at me eagerly.
"It would be rather fun," she said. "We'd have another little honeymoon
all to ourselves."
"It wouldn't really be a honeymoon," I objected. "We should always be
knocking up against trippers in the garden, Archies and Samuels and
Thomases and what not. They'd be all over the place."
Dahlia explained the domestic arrangements. The honeymooners had
their little breakfast in their own little house, and then joined the others
for the day at about ten.
"Or eleven," said Thomas.

"It would be