"Richard," I interrupted severely, "the circumstances do not require international comparisons. By the way, how do you happen to be travelling with—with Mr. Mafferton?"
"That's exactly where it comes in," Mr. Dod exclaimed luminously. "You'd think, the way Mafferton purrs round the old lady, he'd been a friend of the family from the beginning of time! Fact is, he met them two days before they left London. I had known them a good month, and the venerable one seemed to take to me considerably. There wasn't a cab she wouldn't let me call, nor a box at the theatre she wouldn't occupy, nor a supper she wouldn't try to enjoy. Used to ask me to tea. Inquired whether I was High or Low. That was awful, because I had to chance it, being Congregational, but I hit it right—she's Low, too, strong. Isabel always made the tea out of a canister the old lady kept locked. Singular habit that, locking tea up in a canister."
"You are wandering, Dicky," I said. "And Isabel used to ask you whether you would have muffins or brown bread and butter—I know. Go on."
"Girls have intuition," remarked Mr. Dod with a glance of admiration which I discounted with contempt. "Well, then old Mafferton turned up here a week ago. Since then I haven't been waltzing in as I did before. Old lady seems to think there's a chance of keeping the family pure English—seems to think she'd like it better—see? At least, I take it that way; he's cousin to a lord," Dick added dejectedly, "and you know financially I've been coming through a cold season."
"It's awkward," I admitted, "but old ladies of no family are like that over here. I know Mrs. Portheris is an old lady of no family, because she's a connection of ours, you see. What about Isabel? Can't you tell the least bit?"
"How can a fellow? She blushes just as much when he speaks to her as when I do."
"But are you quite sure," I asked delicately, "whether Mr. Mafferton is—interested?"
"There's the worst kind of danger of it," Dicky replied impressively. "I don't know whether I ought to tell you, but the fact is Mafferton's just got the sack—I beg your pardon—just been congéed himself. They say she was an American and it was a bad case; she behaved most unfeelingly."
"You shouldn't believe all you hear," I said, "but I don't see what that has to do with it."
"Why, he's just in the mood to console himself. What fellow would think twice of being thrown over, if Miss Portheris were the alternative!"