With Edged Tools | Page 6

she said. "But I don't see why I should not
fail."
"That is easily explained."
"Why?"
"No looking-glass about."
She gave a little pout, but she liked it.
The music of the next dance was beginning, and, remembering their
social obligations, they both rose. She laid her hand on his arm, and for
a moment his fingers pressed hers. He smiled down into her upturned
eyes with love, but without passion. He never for a second risked the
"gentleman" and showed the "man." He was suggestive of a forest pool
with a smiling rippled surface. There might be depth, but it was yet
unpenetrated.
"Shall we go now," he said, "and say a few words in passing to my
redoubtable father? It might be effective."
"Yes, if you like," she answered promptly. There is no more confident
being on earth than a pretty girl in a successful dress.
They met Sir John at the entrance of the ballroom. He was wandering
about, taking in a vast deal of detail.
"Well, young lady," he said, with an old-world bow, "are you having a
successful evening?"
Millicent laughed. She never knew quite how to take Sir John.
"Yes, I think so, thank you," she answered, with a pretty smile. "I am
enjoying myself very much."

There was just the least suggestion of shyness in her manner, and it is
just possible that this softened the old cynic's heart, for his manner was
kinder and almost fatherly when he spoke again.
"Ah!" he said, "at your time of life you do not want much--plenty of
partners and a few ices. Both easily obtainable."
The last words were turned into a compliment by the courtly inclination
of the head that accompanied them.
The exigencies of the moment forced the young people to go with the
stream.
"Jack," said Sir John, as they passed on, "when you have been deprived
of Miss Chyne's society, come and console yourself with a glass of
sherry."
The dutiful son nodded a semi-indifferent acquiescence and
disappeared.
"Wonderful thing, sherry!" observed Sir John Meredith for his own
edification.
He waited there until Jack returned, and then they set off in search of
refreshment. The son seemed to know his whereabouts better than the
father.
"This way," he said, "through the conservatory."
Amidst the palms and tropical ferns Sir John paused. A great deal of
care had been devoted to this conservatory. Half hidden among
languorous scented flowers were a thousand tiny lights, while overhead
in the gloom towered graceful palms and bananas. A fountain
murmured pleasantly amidst a cluster of maidenhairs. The music from
the ballroom fell softly over all.
Sir John Meredith and his son stood in silence, looking around them.
Finally their eyes met.

"Are you in earnest with that girl?" asked Sir John abruptly.
"I am," replied Jack. He was smiling pleasantly.
"And you think there is a chance of her marrying you--unless, of course,
something better turns up?"
"With all due modesty I do."
Sir John's hand was at his mouth. He stood up his full six feet two and
looked hard at his son, whose eyes were level with his own. They were
ideal representatives of their school.
"And what do you propose marrying upon? She, I understand, has
about eight hundred a year. I respect you too much to suspect any
foolish notions of love in a cottage."
Jack Meredith made no reply. He was entirely dependent upon his
father.
"Of course," said Sir John, "when I die you will be a baronet, and there
will be enough to live on like a gentleman. You had better tell Miss
Chyne that. She may not know it. Girls are so innocent. But I am not
dead yet, and I shall take especial care to live some time."
"In order to prevent my marriage?" suggested Jack. He was still smiling,
and somehow Sir John felt a little uneasy. He did not understand that
smile.
"Precisely so," he said, rather indistinctly.
"What is your objection?" inquired Jack Meredith, after a little pause.
"I object to the girl."
"Upon what grounds?"
"I should prefer you to marry a woman of heart."

"Heart?" repeated Jack, with a suspicion of hereditary cynicism. "I do
not think heart is of much consequence. Besides, in this case, surely
that is my province! you would not have her wear it on her sleeve?"
"She could not do that: not enough sleeve."
Sir John Meredith had his own views on ladies' dress.
"But," he added, "we will not quarrel. Arrange matters with the young
lady as best you can. I shall never approve of such a match, and without
my approval you cannot well marry."
"I do not admit that."
"Indeed?"
"Your approval means money," explained this dutiful son politely. "I
might manage to make the money