The Terrible Twins | Page 9

was no
haste; he knew that Mrs. Dangerfield was awaiting his avowal with a
passionate eagerness; any time would do for that. But he must seize the
fleeting hour and bind Sir Maurice to himself by the bond of the
warmest friendship.
Again and again he wondered how Sir Maurice could give his attention
to the interrupting exacting Twins, when he had a man of the world,
humorous, knowing, wealthy, to talk to. He tried to make opportunities
for him to escape from them; Sir Maurice missed those opportunities;
he did not seem to see them. In truth Captain Baster was a little
disappointed in Sir Maurice: he did not find him frankly responsive:
polite--yes; indeed, politeness could go no further. But he lacked
warmth. After all he had not pinned him down to the definite
acceptance of a single invitation.
When, at seven o'clock, he tore himself away with the hearty assurance
that he would be back at nine sharp, he was not sure that he had made a
bosom friend. He felt that the friendship might need clenching.
As the front door shut behind him, Sir Maurice wiped his brow with the
air of one who has paused from exhausting toil: "I feel
sticky--positively sticky," he said. "Oh, Erebus, you do have gummy
friends! I thought we should never get rid of him. I thought he'd stuck
himself to us for the rest of our natural lives."
Mrs. Dangerfield smiled; and the Terror said in a tone of deep meaning:

"That's what he's up to."
"He's not a friend of mine!" cried Erebus hotly.
"We call him the Cruncher--because of his teeth," said the Terror.
"Then beware, Erebus--beware! You are young and possibly savory,"
said Sir Maurice.
"You children had better go and get ready for dinner," said Mrs.
Dangerfield.
The Twins went to the door. On the threshold Erebus turned and said:
"It's Mum he wants to crunch up--not me."
The bolt shot, she fled through the door.
Sir Maurice looked at his sister and said softly:
"Oho! I see--heroism. That was what you wanted to consult me about."
Then he laid his hand on her shoulder affectionately and added: "It
won't do, Anne--it won't do at all. I am convinced of it."
"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Dangerfield in a tone in which
disappointment and relief were very nicely blended.
"Think? I'm sure of it," said Sir Maurice in a tone of complete
conviction.
"But the children; he could do so much for the children," pleaded Mrs.
Dangerfield.
"He could, but he wouldn't. That kind of bounder never does any one
any good but himself. No, no; the children are right in calling him the
Cruncher. He would just crunch you up; and it is a thousand times
better for them to have an uncrunched mother than all the money that
ever came out of pickles."
"Well, you know best. You do understand these things," said Mrs.

Dangerfield; and she sighed.
"I do understand Basters," said Sir Maurice in a confident tone.
Mrs. Dangerfield ran up-stairs to dress, on the light feet of a girl; a
weight oppressive, indeed, had been lifted from her spirit.
Dinner was a very bright and lively meal, though now and again a
grave thoughtfulness clouded the spirits of Erebus. Once Sir Maurice
asked her the cause of it. She only shook her head.
Captain Baster ate his dinner in a sizzling excitement: he knew that he
had made a splendid first impression; he was burning to deepen it. But
on his eager way back to Colet House, he walked warily, feeling before
him with his stick for clotheslines. He came out of the dark lane into
the broad turf road, which runs across the common to the house, with a
strong sense of relief and became once more his hearty care-free self.
There was not enough light to display the jaunty air with which he
walked in all its perfection; but there seemed to be light enough for
more serious matters, for a stone struck him on the thigh with
considerable force. He had barely finished the jump of pained surprise
with which he greeted it, when another stone whizzed viciously past his
head; then a third struck him on the shoulder.
With the appalling roar of a bull of Bashan the gallant officer dashed in
the direction whence, he judged, the stones came. He was just in time
to stop a singularly hard stone with his marble brow. Then he found a
gorse-bush (by tripping over a root) a gorse-bush which seemed
unwilling to release him from its stimulating, not to say prickly,
embrace. As he wallowed in it another stone found him, his ankle-bone.
He wrenched himself from the embrace of the gorse-bush, found his
feet and realized that