“That’s their look-out, though,” said this dogged Briton. “They’ll get an invitation; and if they like to come, so much the better; and if they don’t, why it’s up to us to show that we can do without ’em.”
But Arminius Wingrove was quite a man of the world, you know. If your admirable parents consent to grace this celebration, said that great man, I will exert any little influence I may possess to raise large type in the Leading Morning Journal. But if your admirable parents decide not to grace this celebration, let only the chosen few be present, because to my mind good taste requires it.
These were wise words of Arminius Wingrove. Pray ponder ’em, you young bachelors of Cam and Isis. And you young ladies of Newnham and Girton, should you ever—which we hope you’ll never—go to church in a mechanically propelled vehicle without the consent of your parents, please to remember that in the mature judgment of the arbiter elegantiarum, good taste requires that you shall be married in your traveling dress, and that you shall go in by the side entrance.
CHAPTER XIX
A GREAT OCCASION
Mother was the first to see in the Morning Post that a marriage had been arranged, and would shortly take place. She handed the excellent journal across the table to Father with a sphinxlike countenance. But, as Mr. Jennings subsequently informed the housekeeper, Mrs. Meeson, in a private colloquy in the pantry, his lordship took the blow with resignation.
“No more than I’ve been expecting for some little time past, Agatha,” said the great Proconsul.
But the wife of his bosom was dumb with dismay.
“Agatha,” said the Proconsul, after Mr. Jennings had quitted the scene, “have you seen the Person?”
“I have, Wally; and I am strongly of opinion that Philip is out of his mind.”
Not very comforting, was it?