We were out one day after lunch, and I, steering carelessly, nearly ran into a boatload of ladies and gentlemen. Grandpapa reprimanded me, and apologised to the other party. Then somebody said:
"Positively it is--it is Miss Dolphin."
The speaker was Mrs. Bangley-Brown. She insisted on stopping and asking after grandpapa; and the old man, like a fool, forgetting the altered conditions, answered:
"I'm all right. Glad to see you again. Jove! how well the gals look. And you as blooming as a four-year-old. D----d if I don't think you're going backwards too!"
Mrs. Bangley-Brown glared at the youth, and grandpapa, with wonderful readiness, explained himself.
"Awfully sorry. Thought you must know me. My pals call me 'grandfather,' 'cause I'm a bit old-fashioned. No offence meant, none taken I hope."
She turned from him with disgust, and the two girls in the boat and some young men looked at my escort and tittered.
"Where is your grandfather?" said Mrs. Bangley-Brown to me, leaning over the edge of the boat and whispering. "I have been wanting his address for five years. Perhaps you can favour me with it. There is something fatal about the name, I think. I have heard it often of late, associated in every case with some broken-hearted woman."
"He treated you badly, I know," I answered, also under my breath. "It was a bitter grief to me at the time. But things are better as they are. He would not have made you happy."
"Probably not," she answered bitterly, "but he might have made me comfortable. And it is not too late. We need not discuss his conduct. I know what an English jury would think of it. Give me his address, if you please."