"Jolly!" he cried. "Je-je-je-olly!"
Miss Bumpschus said nothing. I fear that the cynical expression of Gascan, the chauffeur, had for the time blighted her hope that in their mutual peril she and the Duke would find a tie to bind them. But such peril had to have its end; such a journey could not long continue, for in all the world there were not enough thousands of miles for speed like that to cover. We chipped the paint off the iron gate of the Westbury place as Jamaica lay hallowed in the gold of the setting sun, and the groans of the resting engine brought the whole house to the veranda. Gascan handed down the frozen Duke and Ethel Bumpschus, and in the warm smile of Sally Radigan they were thawed out.
"Of course my little sister brought your Highness down quietly," said Mrs. Radigan, when she had fixed him before the library fire and despatched a man for hot Scotch.
"It was jolly," replied the great Englishman. "I'm used to fast going—jolly fast going."
But I think that had the Duke the power at that moment he would have fled home to his leaky castles, leaving behind wealth and loveliness, broken hearts and full purses. Pearl had shown a phase of her character that made him fear for his ducal rights, and as for Miss Bumpschus, his man told my man that—but these are kitchen secrets.
Night came, bringing with it Constance Wherry, large and good-natured as ever, with Williegilt Mint and Radigan. Dinner came, bringing the Duke down in a coat that fitted over his shoulders as on a wire hanger; bringing Pearl Veal in simple black that set off her rounded shoulders to perfection, and Ethel Bumpschus in a spangly pink creation, with eye-glasses, and a black patch on her chin; bringing Constance Wherry with her neck squeezed into one of the finest pearl collarettes I have ever seen, though it was not tight enough to prevent her talking as volubly as ever. Mrs. Radigan was in splendid tune with her surroundings. As one of the men pushed the Duke into his place at her side, I heard her remark: "We are all so glad your Highness has come. You will enjoy it here, I am sure. To-night we have bridge. To-morrow there are a lot of things to see: the Cathedral at Garden City, and the beautiful view of the plains from the hill behind the stables. I'm sure it's as fine as anything you have in Europe. It reminds me of Bar-beyzun, the place Mil-let painted, you know."
His Grace said it would be jolly.
Then she said that Sir Charles Wigge must see it when he came. She would insist on the Duke bringing him down for a few days. When Sir Charles did come, all would be over with me, I thought. There was plenty of time to ponder on the situation, for Constance Wherry was giving me in detail the plot of a play she had seen the night before, and by leaning interestedly toward her I was able to get an occasional glance around the monstrous jardinière, and see Pearl, as she covered his Grace with smiles. The Duke quite warmed up and smiled, too, and made several remarks, after he had had some champagne. There was little consolation for me there, except the meagre possibility in Pearl's promise to take Sir Charles out in her car—the roads would be better then, she said, and they would be able to go.
"It would be jolly," Nocastle stammered, twirling his glass.
After dinner we had bridge, but it was rather tame at our table, his Grace declining to play for more than a ha'penny a point, as he had to carry Miss Bumpschus, who never gambles. It was rather a bore, but I found some pleasure in the polite row we had at the end, over the question as to whether we were playing on the American or English coinage basis. His Grace said English, of course, as he never could understand our American money. It was folly to be wise, indeed, as he had won three rubbers; but as the amount involved was only $5, I settled in English and let it go at that, but Miss Wherry stuck to cents, paid, and went to bed in a towering rage. She lacks humor. Now, when I told Pearl about it she blew a smoke ring and said simply, "He's a jolly duke."