“Not Fräulein? Good old Fräulein, come back from Germany with a long-bearded professor in her train?”
“Not Fräulein, no, but the professor might apply. Nearer home, child! You have not guessed every member of the family yet. You have not thought of—”
“Esther!” screamed Peggy, and instantly read confirmation in the smiles of assent. “It is! It is! Esther and the man with the dusty coat! Oh, how lovely! How perfectly, deliciously lovely and quaint! Not an old maid, after all, but the first to be engaged and married! Oh, Esther, Esther! Who would have thought it? Who would have believed that you could condescend to such foolishness?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” guffawed Rob, in rolling, subterranean laughter. “What a joke! I’ll have something to say to Miss Esther on this subject! She must be made to realise the inconsistency of her conduct. What about the ladies’ school?”
“Is she fond of him? Is he fond of her? When did it happen? When did they come? How did they break it to you? Did they walk in together, hand in hand, and kneel down before you, so that you could say, ‘Bless you, my children,’ in approved stage fashion?”
“Yes, they did,” cried Mellicent gushingly. “At least, if they didn’t, it was almost as good. She was coming home over Sunday, you know, and he met her in town, and—and asked her, you know, and then he got into the train, and intended to go as far as the first station, and he went on and on, until suddenly here they were, and father and mother and I were standing on the platform to receive them. And she got out and he got out, and they looked so silly and she said, ‘M–m–my friend, Professor Reid,’ and he tried to shake hands with mother three separate times over, and couldn’t find her hand, he was so horribly embarrassed, and then we all drove home in the most horrible silence, and came into the drawing-room, and Esther went crimson in the face, and said, ‘Father and mother, I want to tell you—Professor Reid has asked me—I have per-omised to be his wife,’ and he scraped his feet on the floor and blurted out funny short sentences, three words at a time, ‘Love her dearly,’ ‘Feel much honoured,’ ‘Object of life,’ ‘Make her happy,’ and mother said, ‘Oh, my dear child, I am so glad! I am so thankful for your happiness!’ and set to work and cried all the rest of the evening, and father wriggled about in his coat and looked horribly uncomfortable, and said, ‘Hum—hum—hum. Come into the study, and have a smoke!’”
“My dear Mellicent! You have a most uncomfortable memory! Your capacity for unimportant detail is truly astounding!” cried the vicar protestingly; but Mellicent’s description had been received with so much interest by the visitors that the snub had but little effect. She proceeded to enlarge on the appearance, manner, and eccentricities of the brother-to-be, while Peggy gasped, gurgled, and exclaimed with a fervour great enough to satisfy the most exacting of gossips.
“I never, no, never, heard anything so exciting. Did she tell you that I met them in London? I remarked on the condition of his coat—inches thick in dust, I do assure you, and she was haughty, and gave me to understand that he had something better to do than brush his clothes. I hope she won’t bear me a grudge for my indiscretion. It will be a lesson to me not to make personal remarks for the future. Dear, dear me, how I do long to peep in at the drawing-room window! Do you think they would mind very much, if they looked up and saw my face flattened against the pane? When are we going to see them, and to what class of engaged couples do they belong? Proper? Mediocre? Gushingly loving?”
“H’m!” deliberated Mellicent uncertainly. “He calls her, ‘My dear.’ If I were engaged, and a man called me ‘My dear,’ I should break it off on the spot; but I believe he likes her all the same. He kept handing her the butter and cruet at breakfast every other minute, and he jumps up to open the door for her, and asks if she doesn’t feel the draught. And as for her, she perfectly scowls at you if you dare to breathe in his presence. She thinks he is the most wonderful man that ever lived.”
“Quite right too! I mean to be very proud of him myself; for he is to be my own son. I don’t know him yet, but from all we have heard I am sure it will be easy to take him into our hearts. Peggy dear, we have a quarter of an hour before tea, and we must not disturb the poor dears until then, so come into the garden and have a walk round with me. We haven’t had a chat to ourselves for an age of Sundays.”