"Merci," he said, "Merci. Oui, n'est ce pas? Delightful. Er—these are—ces sont mes amis. Er—Dahlia, come along—er, Monsieur et Madame Mannering—er—Myra, la soeur de Monsieur—- er—where are you, old chap?—le mari de la soeur de Monsieur. Er—Thomas—er——" (he was carried away by memories of his schoolboy French), "le frère du jardinier—er——" He wheeled round and saw me; introduced me again; introduced Myra as my wife, Archie as her brother, and Dahlia as Archie's wife; and then with a sudden inspiration presented Thomas grandly as "le beau-père du petit fils de mes amis Monsieur et Madame Mannering." Thomas seemed more assured of his place as Peter's godfather than as the brother of the gardener.
There were four ladies; we shook hands with all of them. It took us a long time, and I doubt if we got it all in even so, for twice I found myself shaking hands with Simpson. But these may have been additional ones thrown in. It was over at last, and we followed the staff indoors.
And then we had another surprise. It was broken to us by Dahlia, who, at Simpson's urgent request, took up the position of lady of the house, and forthwith received the flowing confidence of the housekeeper.
"Two of us have to sleep outside," she said.
"Where?" we all asked blankly.
We went on to the loggia again, and she pointed to a little house almost hidden by olive-trees in a corner of the garden below us.
"Oh, well, that's all right," said Archie. "It's on the estate. Thomas, you and Simpson won't mind that a bit, will you?"
"We can't turn Samuel out of his own house," said Myra indignantly.
"We aren't turning him; he wants to go. But, of course, if you and your young man would like to live there instead——"
Myra looked at me eagerly.