“I hate to believe you are a goose,” she said, good-naturedly; “but you must be very innocent. Harmless! That is the very thing that man is not.”
“So papa says, but I think it comes from Mr. Ahlberg eating asparagus with his fingers and not knowing how to play whist, or something of the kind. I have seen him on and off at watering places, and in Paris for two or three years. I never saw him do anything that wasn’t quite right—and I never heard anything against him except what you and papa say—and that is rather indefinite.”
“And you didn’t observe my niece with French Pembroke, did you?”
Olivia Berkeley’s face turned a warm color. Such very plain spoken persons as Mrs. Peyton were a little embarrassing. But just then came the sound of the Colonel’s voice, raised at a considerable distance.
“Olivia, my love—God bless my soul—Mrs. Peyton—there’s that charming niece of yours—what a creature she was when she lived in this county as Eliza Peyton—a regular stunner, begad—I must go and speak to her—and my particular friend, Ahlberg—excuse me a moment, my love.” Colonel Berkeley stalked across the track, receiving all the attention which Pembroke had tried to avoid. Life in his beloved Virginia had almost driven the Colonel distracted by its dullness, and he could not but welcome a fellow creature from the outside. He buttoned his light overcoat trimly around his still handsome figure, and bowed majestically when he reached the carriage. Madame Koller returned the bow with a brilliant smile. She was beginning to feel very much alone, albeit she was in her native county, and she welcomed Colonel Berkeley as a deliverer. Evidently she soothed him about Dashaway. Pembroke, passing by, heard scraps like the following:
“I have seen just such things at the Grand Prix—”
“Madame, the infernal system here of putting up irresponsible negro boys—”
“I could see he had a superb stride—”
“Dashaway, Madame Koller, comes from the very best stock in the State of Virginia.”
The day wore on, and by dint of spinning things out most unconscionably it was dusk of the clear autumn evening before the cavalcade took the dusty white road toward home. In “the Isleham carriage” Colonel Berkeley leaned back and waxed confidential with his daughter.