“He’s helping Chips to wash Tricot in the bathroom,” said Teresa.
Cyril stopped in the act of filling his pipe. “H’m,” he remarked. “Hereditary instinct, I suppose. Poor fellow.”
“I know by your face that you mean something unkind, Cyril,” said his wife, “but I don’t see how even you can make out that there can be anything hereditary about washing a dog.”
“Not if there’s only one person to do it,” he replied. He was holding a match to the tobacco and went on explaining between puffs. “But when Hatton, who is a nervous fellow—begins washing poodles with your daughter—your own little girl—who isn’t generally fond of work—I seem to see the young Eve adorning herself with the leaf of experiment just as Mother did. Have you ever seen a young chicken begin to scratch the moment it leaves the egg? It isn’t imitation, because it does it just the same if it is raised in an incubator.”
Teresa looked anxiously amused as a mother does whose favourite child is not behaving well in a drawing-room, but Mrs. Fulton was smarting under old sores. She said coldly, “Perhaps you would finish washing Tricot, dear Dicky. You had better tell Captain Hatton that your father wants him.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Cyril. “I don’t want him. I told him there was nothing for him to do this afternoon and as I didn’t see him at the Polo ground and found his hat in the hall when I came in I remembered the story of Adam and thought I’d ask, that’s all.”
Teresa had gone out while he was speaking.
“May I ask if you never want the girls to marry?” Susie asked.
“Lord, no, I don’t care,” he replied, “but what’s that got to do with Hatton? I was only joking. I suppose he knows all about washing dogs. I expect he likes it. And Chips doesn’t know the business as well as you, Sue; she won’t construe a wag of the tail into an offer of marriage. Hatton is a very upright man. He’d probably consult you first and lay out his plans on paper in the approved style.”
“Well, if he did I’m sure I don’t know what I should say,” she answered thoughtfully. Cyril had once explained to a bewildered friend, “The great charm of an argument with Sue is that you never know which part of a conversation she will choose to take the trick with. You may find that the only lie you have told for years is used as an ace.”