He had missed the Concert. Was it first-rate? Ecstasy answered in the female voice.
‘Hem’d fool I am to keep appointments!’ he muttered.
She reproved him: ‘Fie, Mr. Urmsing; it’s the making of them, not the keeping!’
‘Ah, my dear ma’am, if I’d had Blathenoy’s luck when he made a certain appointment. And he was not so much older than me? The old ones get the prizes!’
Mr. Beaves Urmsing prompted Colonel Corfe to laugh in triumph. The colonel’s eyebrows were up in fixity over sleepy lids. He brightened to propose the conducting of the pretty woman to the banquet.
‘We shall see them going in,’ said she. ‘Mr. Radnor has a French cook, who does wonders. But I heard him asking for Mr. Beaves Urmsing. I’m sure he expected The Marigolds at his Concert.’
‘Anything to oblige the company,’ said the rustic ready chorister, clearing his throat.
The lady’s feet were bent in the direction of a grassy knoll, where sunflowers, tulips, dahlias, peonies, of the sex eclipsed at a distance its roses and lilies. Fenellan saw Dartrey, still a centre of the merchantmen, strolling thither.
‘And do you know, your brother is good enough to dine with us next week, Thursday, down here,’ she murmured. ‘I could venture to command?—if you are not induced.’
‘Whichever word applies to a faithful subject.’