“And voilà mes enfants, the sweethearts,” he murmured as we halted near the window seat from Thebes. There sat Bonnie and Karl, intent upon each other, she with a flush on her face that matched the rosebuds of her frock. And how it happened I hardly know, save that I was at that moment a distracted old woman and that in matters of romance I invariably lose my head; but I instantly went a little mad and told Hobart Eddy all about that young Endymion and his Diana of the tableaux: how Endymion’s old mother must be spirited from “the old country” before they might be married; and even how eighty dollars was necessary and how they had only nine. I had just paused breathless when the others came trooping from the den, and Sally Chartres in white cloth and white curls leaned upon the arm of Mr. Dudley Manners—he is king of some vast part of the mineral or vegetable kingdom at the moment though they modestly call it only a corner—and insisted on meeting every one, on hearing the bagpipe, on listening to “Reddie” play, and on being a good angel with a cloud of the mighty at her side.
In the midst of this bewildering business the dining-room doors opened and in came the tall and smiling footmen whose part was to bring up the supper of cold dainties. And even in that moment my heart thrilled with thanksgiving and pride in the contemplation of the one tall footman who bore the tray of those cream tarts of mine. I say it boldly, and Pelleas said it first: there never was such a decoction of thick, frozen cream and foamy chocolate in this world of delectables. I could not veil my satisfaction as I saw these set upon the table where the plates were piled, and of a truth they looked so delicious that for an instant it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world that Hobart Eddy should leap from his place at my side as if he had gone suddenly mad at the sight.
“Wait, please!” he cried ringingly, “no one must touch anything yet!”
On which he sprang up the step that leads to the great yellow salon, lighted to enhance the look of festivity, and thus stood directly back of the supper table. He was very handsome, his face alight and glowing, his erect, compact figure drawn to its full height. And before I could even guess what he was about, what had he done, this idol of society, this deviser of the eccentric, but make his friends know in a burst of amazing eloquence all that I had just told him of the love story of Bonnie and Karl, save their very names.
His friends listened, curious, ready to be amused, and at the last genuinely diverted; and the household of Little Rosemont listened, bewildered, not knowing what to expect; and as for Bonnie and Karl and Pelleas and me, we four listened and doubted the evidence of our own senses, until:—
“Therefore,” cried Hobart Eddy, “I offer at auction a portion of the contents of this table, especially one fourth of this tray of amazing tarts, as an all-star benefit for these two young people. Also, I offer a limited number of glasses of yonder punch—hey, Mannie!” he called warningly to Mr. Dudley Manners, who stood with a punch glass in his hand; “drop it down, man!”
“I’m hanged if I do,” said Mr. Manners, merrily; “I’ll bid five for it first, you know!”
“Done!” cried Hobart Eddy, rapping on the table, “and what am I bid for this first appetizing and innocent confection, this tart, all compact of cream and spices—” So he went on, and I clung to my chair and expected the whole place to crumble away and Nichola to call me to breakfast in New York. It was too wonderful.
But it was all true. They were caught in the spirit of the happy hour as if this had been some new game contrived to tempt their flagging interests. They gathered about the table, they bid one another down, they prompted the auctioneer, they escaped to corners with cream tarts—my cream tarts!—for which they had paid a price that made me tremble. And as for our original guests, they were lined up at a respectful distance, but quite frantic with the excitement, for they were all devoted—as who would not have been?—to the two to whom this would mean all happiness. And as for Bonnie and Karl, scarce able to breathe they sat on the stone bench from Thebes and clung to each other’s hands. Ah, there never was such an hour. It makes me young to think of it.
So it went on until the last tart of the portion which he had reserved was auctioned to the highest bidder. And hardly had Hobart Eddy invited the others to the table and paused for breath when the question that had been forced from my mind by the unexpected arrivals was answered: Nichola appeared in the dining-room door.