So Arthur Litton contented himself with calling the financier “a coarse beast,” declined to be more fully offended, and aided by Lady Littletown, who worked hard for nothing but the kudos, furnished the house in admirable style, received the cheques from Elbraham, who really did pay without grumbling, and soothed his injured feelings with the very substantial commission which he received.
Upon one part of the decorations Lady Littletown prided herself immensely, and that was upon the addition to the drawing-room of a very spacious conservatory built upon the model of her own; and this she laboured hard to fill with choice foliage plants and gaily petalled exotics of her own selection.
Her carriage was seen daily at the principal florists’, and Elbraham had to write a very handsome cheque for what he called the “greenstuff”; but it was without a murmur, and he smiled with satisfaction as Lady Littletown triumphantly led him in to see the result of her toil.
“Yes,” he said, “tip-top—beats the C.P. hollow! Puts one a little in mind of what the Pantheon used to be when I was a boy.”
“But, my dear Elbraham, is that all you have to say?” exclaimed her ladyship.
“Well, since you put it like that, Lady Littletown, I won’t shilly-shally.”
“No, don’t—pray don’t. I like to hear you speak out, Elbraham—you are so original.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” he said. “Well, you know—well, I was going to say, don’t you think some of those statues are a little too prononsay, as you people call it, you know?”
“Naughty man!” exclaimed her ladyship. “I will not have fault found with a thing, especially as I brought our sweet Clotilde here, and she was perfectly charmed with all she saw. The flowers are really, really—”
“Well, they are not amiss,” said the financier; and he went up to a wreath of stephanotis with such evident intention of picking a “buttonhole” that Lady Littletown hooked him with the handle of her sunshade, uttering a scream of horror the while.