“Dear Bob,” said one of them, “we are so sorry for you. And yet how glad you must have been to be at home when it happened. Poor Uncle Robert! We haven’t seen him for years.”
“Sam was so dreadfully sorry he could not come,” said the other, with a manner so frankly disingenuous that Vickers could not resist answering:
“Aye, I suppose so!”
Not in the least abashed, the little lady smiled back.
“Well, it is strange,” she admitted, “that he always has a toothache when it is a question of a family funeral. He keeps one tooth especially, I believe.” And feeling that more friendly relations were now established, she continued: “How tall you are, Bob. Were you always as tall as that? You look sad, poor boy. Why don’t you come down after the ceremony, and stay a few weeks with us, and let us try to console you?”
“Thank you,” said Vickers, “but I shall have to be here until to-morrow.”
“Oh, I see. Nellie will need you. But you might ask her. Nellie,” she added, “we want Bob to come with us after the funeral. He seems to think you can’t spare him.”
Nellie, who had just entered the room, looked for an instant somewhat confused by this sudden address, but almost at once she replied coldly that she had spared Bob for so many years that she could probably do it again.
Without very much encouragement the two new cousins continued to cling to Vickers throughout the remainder of the ceremonies. They looked upon him as a direct reward of virtue. They had risen at an impossibly early hour, given up engagements merely from a sense of obligation to an old gentleman they hardly knew. The discovery of a good-looking cousin was a return—no more than just, but utterly unexpected.
For his part, if he had not been very conscious that this was his last day with Nellie, he would have enjoyed the company of the others. He took them down to the station and put them on their train, though he continued to refuse to accompany them.