Presently Marianne, who had been feeding the long-suffering Trim on deviled kidney scraps, and enjoying, with all the cruelty of childhood, his tears and squerms, lifted her golden head and innocent eyes, and startled the entire company by exclaiming, in her clear shrill treble:
"Mumsey, why does Mr. Val ask so many questions about my Lammy, and when is my Lammy coming back again?"
Esther, decidedly taken by surprise, turned quickly, and spoke with unaccustomed sharpness.
"Who are you talking about, Mimi? Who is Mr. Val? It really is extraordinary the amount of gossip you manage to imbibe from unknown sources."
"Mr. Val," replied little Mimi, with unabashed frankness, "Mr. Val is Mr. Val. I can't say all his name 'cause it's too long, so he said I was to call him Mr. Val. He came out in the garden when I was getting Popsey's buffday flowers, and he talked to me all about Lammy; and when I told him Lammy's very own name, his eyes got so black, and he said, 'When is she coming back?' and, of course, I didn't know. Miss James, she knows Mr. Val; she's always talkin' to him."
At which lucid and candid explanation Miss James felt the blood rush hotly to her cheeks, and Mr. Tremain, with kindly thought, turned attention from her by saying, quickly:
"It must be the Count, Mimi designates by that innocent abbreviation. With the frank socialism of childhood, she is no respecter of persons. 'Mr. Val' sounds just as important in her ears as Count Vladimir does in ours."
"She's a ridiculous little monkey," replied Esther, impatiently; and then the subject dropped, much to Philip's chagrin, as he desired to glean some further particulars concerning Mdlle. Lamien's probable return. Conversation languished after this, however, and one by one the women stole away to their bedrooms, there to sleep off the excitement and fatigue of the previous night.
It was arranged that Mr. Tremain and his friend should take the six o'clock evening boat, which would, as Freddy Slade remarked, land them in New York in ample time for a "refresher" prior to dinner at the club, at that magic hour when each small round table is daintily set out in fine linen and glittering silver, and surrounded by the best-known convives of clubdom.
"The pleasantest hour, by Jove, of the whole twenty-four," said Freddy, enthusiastically. "Upon my word, I quite envy you fellows the sensation you'll produce when you walk into the 'Union.' You will actually smell of the country, 'pastures green,' you know, and all that sort of thing."