"Don't drivel," said Lalage. "Hilda isn't crying for that. She's not a perfect idiot, whatever you may say."

"I didn't say anything of the sort. I said she was a nice-minded girl."

"Same thing," said Lalage, "and she's not either the one or the other."

"Then why is she crying?"

"Because her mother is taking her home. That's the reason I'm going for p.u.s.s.y Battersby."

"She'll be a poor subst.i.tute for Hilda," I said. "She'll boggle at simony every time."

"What are you talking about now?"

"Miss Battersby. I'm trying to explain that she'll hardly be able to take Hilda's place as the companion of your revels."

"What I'm getting her for," said Lalage severely, "is to restore the confidence of Hilda's mother. She doesn't trust me one bit, silly of her, isn't it? And she's ragged poor father into a condition of incoherence."

"Will Miss Battersby be any use? I should hardly have thought her the sort of person who would deal successfully with a frantic mother."

"She's tremendously respectable," said Lalage, "and Hilda's mother will have absolute confidence in her the moment she sees her. Remember how she agreed to that Portugal trip once she knew p.u.s.s.y was to be with us, and she hadn't even seen her then. When I trot her out there'll be absolutely no further trouble. Good-bye, I must be darting on."

Lalage put her foot on the pedal and balanced the bicycle.

I stopped her again.

"You said something about my going to the rectory," I said. "What am I to do when I get there?"

"Attend to Hilda's mother of course."

"Do you mean that I'm to take a basin of hot water and a sponge and wash her nose? I couldn't possibly. I don't know her nearly well enough. I'd hardly venture to do such a thing to Hilda herself."

"I wasn't thinking of the s.m.u.t on her nose," said Lalage. "What I want you to do is to keep her in play till I get back. I sha'n't be long, but it's not possible to start p.u.s.s.y Battersby off on the first hop. She'll want to t.i.tivate a little."

"If you think I'll be any use----"

"Of course you will. You're very nearly as respectable to look at as p.u.s.s.y Battersby."

"I shall hate to see Hilda crying."

"Then cheer her up. Good-bye for the present."

This time Lalage really did mount the bicycle. I drove on in the direction of the rectory, turning over in my mind various plans for keeping Hilda's mother in play. Some of them were very good plans which I think would have been successful, but I shall never be certain about that because I did not have the chance of putting them to the test.

A mile from the rectory gate I met a car. There was a good deal of luggage piled on the well, and two ladies sat together on one side. I recognized Hilda at once. The other lady I supposed, quite rightly, to be her mother. I ought, I saw afterward, to have made some effort, even at that eleventh hour, to keep her in play. I do not think I could have succeeded, but it was certainly my duty to try. My nerve unfortunately failed and I simply drove past, raising my hat and bowing sorrowfully to Hilda.

When the car was out of sight I stopped to consider my position. There was nothing to prevent my returning home at once and settling down, as I had originally planned, in the corner of the deserted greenhouse. My inclination was, of course, to do this, but it occurred to me that it would be a charitable and kindly action to comfort Canon Beresford. He had, so Lalage told me, been reduced to a condition of incoherence by the ragging of Hilda's mother. He was also likely to have been a good deal distressed by the sight of Hilda's tears and the sound of her sobs.

He would probably be sorry to lose Hilda. In spite of anything Lalage might say I still believed Hilda to be a nice-minded girl, the sort of girl that any man would like to have staying in his house. For all three reasons the Canon would require sympathy and comfort. I drove on to the rectory.

There I had, once more, to reconsider my position. The Canon was comforting himself. He had, so the maid informed me, gone out fishing.

My first impulse was to start for home with a sigh of relief.. Then I remembered that some one would have to explain to Lalage and Miss Battersby that Hilda and her mother had really gone. The Canon would not be able to do this because he had gone out fishing before they left. The maid was obviously a stupid girl. It seemed to be my duty to wait for Lalage and tell her, soothingly, what had happened. I went into the Canon's study and made myself comfortable with a pipe.

At about one o'clock Lalage arrived without Miss Battersby. She made no comment at first on the absence of Hilda's mother. Her mind had evidently been turned away from that subject. She flung herself into a chair, and dragged furiously at the pins which fastened on her hat. When she had worked them loose she threw the hat itself on the floor.

"Great Scott!" she said. "I've had a time of it!"

"I rather thought you would."

"Curious, isn't it? For he can be a perfect pet when he likes. Glad I don't get gout."

"You know perfectly well that it wasn't gout which was the matter with him this time."

"It can't have been all my letter, can it?"

"It was," I said.

"Of course I wasn't going to stand that sort of thing," said Lalage.

"What sort of thing?"

"The way he talked, or, rather, tried to talk. I soon stopped him.

That's what makes me so hot. I wish you'd seen poor p.u.s.s.y's face. I was afraid every minute he'd mention her name and then she would have died of shame. That's just the kind of thing which would make p.u.s.s.y really ill."

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him that it was his plain duty to put the matter before the Archdeacon and that if he didn't do it I should simply get some one else and then he'd jolly well feel ashamed of himself and be afraid to look any one in the face for weeks and weeks. I didn't mention that p.u.s.s.y was the future wife, of course. I'm much too fond of her to hurt her feelings."

I should have liked to hear a description of the expression on Miss Battersby's face. I should also have liked to hear what my uncle said in reply to Lalage's remarks, but I felt an anxiety so acute as greatly to dull my curiosity.

"Had you any one particular in your mind," I asked, "when you said that you'd get somebody else to go to the Archdeacon?"

"Of course I had," said Lalage. "You."

"I was just afraid you might be thinking of that."

"You'll do it of course."

"No," I said, "I won't. There are reasons which I gave to my uncle this morning which made it quite impossible for me----"

"You're not thinking of marrying her yourself, are you?"

"Certainly not."

"Then there can't be any real reason----"

"Lalage," I said, "there is. I don't like to mention the subject to you; but the fact is----"

"If it's anything disagreeable I'd much rather not hear it."

"It is, very; though it's not true."