“So would any other reasonable being.” And that unpremeditated speech of the Tenderfoot’s would have made Mrs. Wren his friend for life, had she not become so already.
“That’s what I call sensible,” said she. “And there’s only one thing for you to do now, young man, and that is to take her straight away and marry her.”
At this point Mary got up from her sofa. But Mrs. Wren held one great advantage; she had her back to the door. “You don’t leave this room, my fine lady”—again “the old Sadler’s Wells touch,” and Jack and Milly could not deny that it was rather superb—“until you realize that we all think alike in this matter.”
“Quite so,” said the Tenderfoot, immensely stimulated by this powerful backing. “Let us try to see the thing as it is. This isn’t a case for high falutin’ sentiment. Bridport House is steeped in crass idiocy; all the more reason, I say, that we give it no encouragement.”
“Quite so,” chimed Mrs. Wren.
“Quite so,” chimed Milly, who was irresistibly reminded of a recent command performance of “Money.”
Mrs. Wren shook a histrionic finger at the luckless Mary, whose eyes were seeking rather wildly a means of escape. “Don’t speak! Don’t venture to say a word!” The victim had not shown the least disposition to do so. “You simply haven’t a leg to stand on, you know.”
It was a shameful piece of bullying but the victim bore it stoically. And it did not go on for long. Neither Mrs. Wren nor Milly was exactly a fool. As soon as they saw that main force was not likely to help them, and that more harm than good might be done by it, they decided to leave the whole matter to Jack. They had expressed their own point of view very fully, they knew that he could be trusted to make the most of his case; besides, when all was said, he was the person best able to deal with an entirely vexatious affair.
Of a sudden, the astute Milly flung a swift glance at her mother and got up from her chair. And without another word on the subject, this pair of conspirators dramatically withdrew.
VI