“Another shot would be damned nonsense. My man is satisfied, or shall be, else I am a Dutch trooper. Certainly you have nothing to complain of.”
I was only too happy to accept this solution, but more out of objection to being browbeaten by Mr. Buxton than anything else, I said,—
“We shall require an explanation of your principal’s observation just now, sir.”
“Shall you?” angrily asked Mr. Buxton, exactly in the tone he used when the carpenter’s mate complained that the jack-o’-the-dust had cribbed his best saw. “Then I shall call your man to account in regard to his late observation, and we can keep them popping away at each other all day. But this is no slaughter-pen, Mr. Glyn, nor am I the ship’s butcher, and I shall take my man back to town and give him a glass of spirits and some breakfast, and I advise you to do the same. You are very young, Mr. Glyn, and you still need to know a thing or two.” Then, advancing from behind the hedge, he said in the dulcet tone he used when the admiral asked him to have wine,—
“Gentlemen, Mr. Glyn and myself, after conferring, have agreed that the honor of our principals is fully established, and that the controversy is completely at an end. Allow me to congratulate you both,”—and there was a general hand-shaking all around. I noticed that the coachman, who was attentively watching the performance, looked slightly disappointed at the turn of affairs.
Straightway, we all climbed into the chaise, and I think I shall be believed when I say that our return to town was more cheerful than our departure had been.
We all agreed to dine together at Mivart’s the next night, and I saw no reason to believe that there was any remnant of ill feeling between the two late combatants.
I returned to Berkeley Square that afternoon, with much uneasiness concerning my meeting and future intercourse with Lady Arabella; for I had not seen her since the occurrence in Sir Peter’s study. Although my affection for her was for ever killed by that box on the ear she gave me, yet no man can see a woman shamed before him without pain, and the anticipation of Lady Arabella’s feelings when she saw me troubled me. But this was what actually happened when we met. Lady Arabella was sitting in the Chinese drawing-room, her lap-dog in her arms, surrounded by half a dozen fops. Lady Hawkshaw had left the room for a moment, and Arabella had taken the opportunity of showing her trick of holding out her dog’s paws and kissing his nose, which she called measuring love-ribbon. This performance never failed to throw gentlemen into ecstasies. Daphne sat near, with her work in her lap and a book on the table by her, smiling rather disdainfully. I do not think the cousins loved each other.
On my appearance in the drawing-room, I scarcely dared look toward Lady Arabella; but she called out familiarly,—
“Come here, Dicky!” (her habit of calling me Dicky annoyed me very much), “and let me show you how I kiss Fido’s nose; and if you are a good boy, and will tell me all about the meeting this morning, perhaps I may hold your paws out and kiss your nose,”—at which all the gentlemen present laughed loudly. I never was so embarrassed in my life, and my chagrin was increased when, suddenly dropping the dog, she rushed at me, seized my hands, and, holding them off at full arm’s length, imprinted a sounding smack upon my nose, and laughingly cried out, “One yard!” ( Smack on my nose again.) “Two yards!” (Smack.) “Three yards!” (Smack.)