Mr. Mamble drew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his face with it. “I don’t know what to say!” he announced. “To think of my Tom going about with a Duke, and me being so taken-in—Well, your Grace will have to pardon me if I might perhaps have said anything not quite becoming!”
“Yes, of course I pardon you, but do pray withdraw the charge against me, so that I may escort Lady Harriet home!” said the Duke.
Mr. Mamble hastened to do this, and would have embarked on an elaborate apology had not the Duke cut him short. “My dear sir, pray say no more! I wish you will go with Tom to the Pelican, and await me there. I hope you will give me your company at dinner, for there are several things I wish to talk to you about.”
“Your Grace,” said Mr. Mamble, bowing deeply, “I shall be highly honoured!”
“But it isn’t dinner-time yet!” objected Tom. “I don’t want to go back to the Pelican! Pa took me away from those jolly gardens before I had even seen the grotto! And I had paid my sixpence, too!”
“Well, ask your Papa for another sixpence, and go back to the gardens—that is, if he will permit you to.”
“You do just what his Grace tells you, and keep a civil tongue in your head!” Mr. Mamble admonished his son. “Here’s a crown for you: you can take a hack, and see you ain’t late for dinner!”
Tom, his spirits quite restored by this generosity, thanked him hurriedly, and dashed off. The rest of the party then dispersed, the Duke handing Harriet up into a hackney, and Mr. Mamble setting out in a chastened and bemused frame of mind to walk to the Pelican.
Having given the direction to the coachman, the Duke got into the hackney beside Harriet, and took her in his arms, and kissed her. “Harry, I don’t know how you found the courage to do it, for you must have hated it excessively, my poor love, but I am very sure I am the most fortunate, undeserving dog alive!” he declared.
She gave a gasp, and trembled. “Oh, Gilly!” she said faintly, timidly clasping the lapel of his coat. “Are you indeed sure?”