DEAR CHIMNEYS:—Pep stopped here yesterday to see B.H. He and C. old pals. Watch him. Where's Wig? H.H.
The initials were superfluous, and yet the sight of them pleased me mightily. In her semi-printing she curved the pillars of the H's like parentheses, so that they bore an amusing resemblance to four men striding forward against a storm. The report of a chief of scouts smuggled through the enemy's lines could not have improved on her billet for succinctness, and the information conveyed was startling enough. We had been dealing with a company of suitors outside the barricade; now came warning of the presence of a strange knight within the gates who greatly multiplied the perils of the situation. The compact between the suitors at the inn was a thing of the past, and I now expected them to exercise all the ingenuity of which desperate lovers are capable in pressing their claims. The fact that both Wiggins and Pepperton were old friends of mine did not make my task easier. I not only felt it incumbent on me to prevent Dick, the holder of the clue, from taking advantage of it, but knowing Cecilia's own attitude of mind and heart toward Wiggins I wished to save Pepperton the pain of rejection if it could be done.
But what did Hezekiah mean by the question with which she ended her note? If Wiggins, smarting under Cecilia's treatment of him the day before, had quit the field, here was a pretty how-d 'ye-do f Miss Octavia's refusal to countenance telephones made it necessary for me to leave Hopefield to learn what had become of Wiggins, and I realized that I must act promptly if I saved the day for him. His conduct first and last had been spiritless, and I was out of patience with him. It seemed impossible to formulate any plan amidst these multiplying uncertainties. If Wiggins had decamped, Dick knew it and would lay his plans accordingly. I felt that it was base ingratitude on Wiggins's part to ask me to watch his interests while he went roaming indifferently over the country. One or two consoling reflections remained, however: Dick believed me to be a suitor for Cecilia's hand, and this doubtless caused him considerable uneasiness; and he did not know that Pepperton, whose acquaintance with Cecilia antedated the European flight, had to be reckoned with. I wished Pepperton had kept out of it.
Breakfast that morning was interminably long. Miss Octavia was never more thoroughly amusing, never more drolly inadvertent. She attacked Pepperton for all the evils in American architecture, and in particular took him to task for some house he had built at Newport which she pronounced the most hideous pile of marble on American soil. From her packet of newspaper-cuttings she drew a letter her brother Bassford had written to the "Sun,"—the writing of letters to newspapers was, it seemed, one of his weaknesses,—protesting against the quality of the music ground from the New York hurdy-gurdies. The selections were execrable; the fierce tempo at which the instruments were driven had caused an alarming increase in insanity, in proof of which he adduced statistics. He demanded municipal censorship, and volunteered to sit on the proposed commission of critics without pay.
"That is just like brother Bassford! When I begin speaking to him again I shall point out the error of his ways. I always miss the hurdy-gurdies when I 'm in the country, and I believe I shall buy one and have it play me to sleep at night. The faster the tempo the sweeter the slumber. I should certainly do so," she concluded, with that indefinable smile that always left one wondering, "if it were not that my new laundress is a graduate of the Sandusky-Ottumwa Conservatory of Music, and I fear the toreador's song on wheels might be painful to one of her taste and temperament."
When we left the table at about half-past ten Miss Octavia insisted that we must visit the kennels. A friend had just sent her a fine Airedale, and she wished to make sure the kennel-master was treating the dog properly. Later we were all to ride.
I made haste to excuse myself, saying that personal matters required attention.
"Certainly, Arnold, you shall do as you like. Mr. Pepperton is a difficult bird to catch, so we hope for you at luncheon, and of course we expect you for dinner."
Pepperton looked at me inquiringly. I judged that he had known Miss Octavia a good many years; the tone of their intercourse was intimate; and yet he plainly was at a loss to understand just how I came to be so thoroughly established in her good graces. I confess that as I glance back over these pages it looks odd to me!
As I paced the hall waiting for a horse to be saddled, Pepperton led me out on the terrace above the garden.