‘They won’t be pleased with Ophelia,’ remarked Freddy unpleasantly, ‘but have it your own way,’ and he retired to write letters.
This conversation took place on the Sunday before Eights, after breakfast, and having settled nothing as usual, we went out on the river. On Tuesday afternoon at 6 o’clock Freddy, supported by Squiff and myself, fetched up at the station to meet Aunt Julia. The train had stopped fully two minutes before we saw a phenomenally unattractive female descend from a first-class carriage carrying several handbags and a diseased-looking spaniel.
‘That’s the Bugg,’ remarked Freddy dismally, as he slowly advanced to the carriage from which Miss Bugg and a porter were heaving out an inanimate mass clad in furs, lace and silk. Freddy placed his arms gingerly around this relic and kissed it twice somewhere near the top. By the time Squiff and I reached them, the object had begun to speak. ‘My dear Frederick,’ it was saying in feeble tones, ‘such a terrible journey; poor Jacob was so ill, and Ophelia actually forgot the curative capsules.’
‘The O’Rossa, Mr. Cochrane, Lady Blitherington,’ murmured Freddy, but her Ladyship was busily engaged in administering to Jacob a capsule which the Bugg had just discovered.
‘The O’Rossa, Mr. Cochrane, Miss Bugg,’ screamed Freddy, glaring at Ophelia.
‘I’m so felicitous to meet you,’ replied the lady with a contortion intended for a friendly smile.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve brought good weather with you,’ remarked Squiff to Aunt Julia, ‘at one time it looked rather like a bad week.’
The Dowager was just about to reply when the arrival of her dutiful nephew, vicariously laden with luggage, put an end to conversation, and we helped the ladies into the Granville bus, accompanied by Freddy.
On our way back we spent a pleasant half-hour at the King’s Restaurant, and so when we reached the Squifferies Freddy was already there.