CHAPTER XVII
A DASH OF ONIONS
It was about a fortnight later that one afternoon, soon after lunch, Mrs. Fanning came into the drawing-room. She was somewhat short-sighted, and she stood in the middle of the room, looking round her. After a time, to my great horror, she caught sight of me. If I had a moment to spare, I should have got behind the curtain, in order to avoid her, but I had not that moment; she discovered her prey, and made for me as fast as an arrow from a bow.
"Ah," she said, "here you are; I am going out driving in Albert's brougham this afternoon. You didn't know, perhaps, that Albert had a brougham of his own?"
"I did not," I answered.
"It is a recent acquisition of his; he is becoming a wealthy man is Albert, and he started the brougham a short time ago. He had the body painted red and the wheels dark brown—I was for having the wheels yellow, because I like something distinct, but Albert said, 'No, she would rather have dark brown.' Who do you think he meant by she, now? That's the puzzle I am putting to you. Who do you think she is?"
"You, of course," I answered boldly.
Mrs. Fanning favoured me with a broad wink.
"Ah now, that's very nice of you," she said, "but the old mother doesn't come in anywhere when the young girl appears on the horizon. It is about time for Albert to be meeting the young girl, and meet her he will. Indeed, it is my opinion that he has met her, and that the brougham which she likes is standing at the door. It is for the sake of that young girl he has had those wheels painted brown, it is not the wish of his old mother. But come for a drive with me, will you, dear?"
"I am sorry," I began.
"Oh no, I am not going to take any refusal. Ah, there is your precious dear mother coming into the room."