Tristram of Blent | Page 6

make was mischief. The essence of mischief lay for
her--perhaps for everybody--in curiosity; it was to put people in the
situations in which they least expected to find themselves, and to
observe how they comported themselves therein. As for hurting their
interests or even their feelings--no; she was certain that she did not
want that; was she not always terribly sorry when that happened, as it
sometimes, and quite unaccountably, did? She would weep then--but
for their misfortune, be it understood, not for any fault of hers. People
did not always understand her; her mother had understood her perfectly,
and consequently had never interfered with her ways. Mina loved a
mystification too, and especially to mystify uncle Duplay, who thought
himself so clever--was clever indeed as men went, she acknowledged
generously; but men did not go far. It would be fun to choose Merrion
Lodge for her summer home, first because her uncle would wonder
why in the world she took it, and secondly because she had guessed
that somebody might be surprised to see her there. So she laid her plan,
even as she had played her tricks in the days when she was an odd little
girl, and Mr Cholderton, not liking her, had with some justice
christened her the Imp.
Major Duplay bowed Mr Sloyd to the door with the understanding that
full details of Merrion Lodge were to be furnished in a day or two.
Coming back to the hearth-rug he spoke to his niece in French, as was
the custom with the pair when they were alone.
"And now, dear Mina," said he, "what has made you set your mind on
what seems distinctly the least desirable of these houses?"
"It's the cheapest, I expect, and I want to economize."
"People always do as soon as they've got any money," reflected Duplay
in a puzzled tone. "If you were on half-pay as I am, you'd never want to
do it."
"Well, I've another reason." This was already saying more than she had

meant to say.
"Which you don't mean to tell me?"
"Certainly not."
With a shrug he took out his cigarette-case and handed it to her.
"You and your secrets!" he exclaimed good-humoredly. "Really, Mina,
I more than earn my keep by the pleasure I give you in not telling me
things. And then you go and do it!"
"Shan't this time," said Mr Cholderton's Imp, seeming not a day more
than ten, in spite of her smoking cigarette and her smart costume.
"Luckily I'm not curious--and I can trust you to do nothing wrong."
"Well, I suppose so," she agreed with scornful composure. "Did you
ever hear mother speak of a Mrs Fitzhubert?"
The major smiled under his heavy mustache as he answered, "Never."
"Well, I have," said Mina with a world of significance. "I heard her first
through the door," she added with a candid smile. "I was listening."
"You often were in those days."
"Oh, I am still--but on the inside of the door now. And she told me
about it afterward of her own accord. But it wouldn't interest you,
uncle."
"Not in its present stage of revelation," he agreed, with a little yawn.
"The funny old Englishman--you never saw him, did you?--Mr
Cholderton--he knew her. He rather admired her too. He was there
when she rushed in and---- Never mind! I was there too--such a guy! I
had corkscrew curls, you know, and a very short frock, and very
long--other things. Oh, those frills!--And I suppose I really was the
ugliest child ever born. Old Cholderton hated me--he'd have liked to

box my ears, I know. But I think he was a little in love with Mrs
Fitzhubert. Oh, I've never asked for that 'Peerage!'"
Major Duplay had resigned himself to a patient endurance of
inadequate hints. His wits were not equal to putting together the pieces
or conducting a sort of "missing word," or missing link, exercise to a
triumphant issue. In time he would know all--supposing, that is, that
there were really anything to know. Meanwhile he was not curious
about other people's affairs; he minded his own business. Keeping
young occupied much of his time; and then there was always the
question of how it might prove possible to supplement the half-pay to
which his years of service in the Swiss Army entitled him; it was
scanty, and but for his niece's hospitality really insufficient. He thought
that he was a clever man, he had remained an honest man, and he saw
no reason why Fortune should not some day make him a comfortable
man; she had never done so yet, having sent him into the world as the
fifth child of a Protestant pastor in a French-speaking canton, and never
having given him so much as a