This pronouncement once more bereft the Major of speech. Sir Richard’s forefinger banished Pen to her corner, and by the time the outraged parent ceased gobbling, he had once more taken charge of the situation. He agreed that the whole affair must at all costs be hushed up, promised to deal faithfully with Pen, and finally escorted the Major out of the parlour, with assurances that such depravity should not go unpunished.
Pen, who had been struggling with an overwhelming desire to laugh, went off into a peal of mirth as soon as the Major was out of earshot, and had, in fact, to grasp a chairback to support herself. In this posture she was discovered by Mr Luttrell, who, as soon as Sir Richard and the Major had passed through the entrance-parlour, oblivious of his presence there, bounced in upon Pen, and said through shut teeth: “So! You think it damned amusing, do you, you little cur? Well, I do not!”
Pen raised her head, and through brimming eyes saw the face of her old playmate swim before her.
Mr Luttrell, stuttering with rage, said menacingly: “I heard you! I could not help but hear you! So you didn’t intend marriage, eh? You—you boast of having t—trifled with an innocent female! And you think you c-can get off scot-free, do you? I’ll teach you a lesson!”
Pen discovered to her horror that Mr Luttrell was advancing upon her with his fists clenched. She dodged behind the table, and shrieked: “Piers! Don’t you know me? Piers, look at me! I’m Pen!”
Mr Luttrell dropped his fists, and stood gaping. “Pen?” he managed to utter. “Pen?”
Chapter 11
They stood staring at one another. The gentleman found his voice first, but only to repeat in accents of still deeper amazement: “Pen! Pen Creed?”
“Yes, indeed I am!” Pen assured him, keeping the table between them.
His fists unclenched. “But—but what are you doing here? And in those clothes? I don’t understand!”