"My what?" said the Prophet, blankly.

"You thoughtful pressure, and accepting your urgent invite to dine here before proceeding to the Zoological Gardens and thence to the butler's pantry."

The Prophet tried not to groan while she emitted a pin and secured with it a wandering plait of raven hair.

"You're sure, sir," said Mr. Sagittarius, in a deplorable voice, "that the gentleman is convinced that I am really an American syndicate?"

The Prophet rang the bell. He could not trust himself to speak, and, when he looked at Madame's large and determined eyes, he knew that to do so would be useless.

Mr. Ferdinand appeared.

"Mr. Ferdinand," said the Prophet, "this lady and gentleman will join us at dinner to-night."

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Ferdinand, casting a glance of outraged prudery upon Mr. Sagittarius, who was attired in his usual morning costume, including spats.

"What's the matter, Mr. Ferdinand?" asked the Prophet, following that functionary's eyes. "Ha! He's not dressed!"

"No, sir!"

"Mr. Sagittarius," cried the Prophet, "you're not dressed!"

"Sir," cried that gentleman, "do you dare to accuse me of impropriety in a frock coat?"

"No, no. But for dinner. You can't possibly dine like that!"

"I have dined like this, sir, for the last twenty years. The architects and their wives--"

"I daresay. But unluckily there will be no architects and their wives at dinner to-night. Please stand up."

"Sir?"

"Kindly stand up. Mr. Ferdinand!"

"Yes, sir."

"Place your back against this gentleman's if you please--touching, touching! Don't wriggle away like that. Keep your heels to the ground while I fetch a sheet of notepaper. Don't move your heads either of you.

I thought so. You're pretty much the same height. Mr. Ferdinand, you will lay out a white shirt and one of your black dress suits in my dressing-room at once. Madame, I regret that we must leave you for a few moments. Will you rest here? Allow me to place a cushion for your head.

And here is Juvenal in the original."

So saying, the Prophet hurried Mr. Sagittarius from the room, driving Mr. Ferdinand, in a condition of elephantine horror, before him, and abandoning Madame to an acquaintance with the cla.s.sics that she had certainly never achieved in the society of the renowned Dr. Carter.

CHAPTER XVII

MALKIEL THE SECOND IS MISTAKEN FOR A RATCATCHER

"If you tremble like that, of course it must look too big!" exclaimed the Prophet to Mr. Sagittarius, a quarter of an hour later. "Draw it in at the back."

Mr. Sagittarius, with shaking hands, drew in the waistcoat of Mr.

Ferdinand, which hung in folds around his thin and agitated figure.

"That's better," said the Prophet. "They won't notice anything odd. But you've turned up your--Mr. Ferdinand's trousers!"

"They're too long, sir. You braced them too low for--"

"I braced them low on purpose," cried the Prophet in great excitement, "to cover the spats, since you can't get on Mr. Ferdinand's boots.

Kindly turn them down."

"As to the spats, sir, the architects and their wives--"

"Mr. Sagittarius," exclaimed the Prophet, "I think it right to inform you that if you mention the architects and their wives again, I may very probably go mad. I don't say I shall, but I will not answer for myself.

Have the goodness to turn them down and follow me."

Mr. Sagittarius obeyed, and followed the Prophet from the room with a waddling gait and a terrible sensation of having nothing on. The coat and trousers which he wore flapped about him as he descended the stairs in the wake of the Prophet, glancing nervously about him and starting at the slightest sound. In the library they found Madame, holding the great Juvenile upside down and looking exceedingly cross.

"Will you be good enough to come upstairs?" said the Prophet to her very politely, though his fingers twitched to strangle her. "I wish to present you to my grandmother, and dinner is just ready."

Madame rose with dignity.

"I am ready too," she said, with a click. "_Semper paratis_."

And, shaking up the fichu, she ascended the stairs. Outside the drawing-room door the Prophet, who seemed strangely calm, but who was in reality almost bursting with nervous excitement, paused and faced his old and valued friends.

"You will forgive my saying so, I hope," he whispered, "but my grandmother is not well and much conversation tires her. So we don't talk too much in her presence. Only just now and then, you understand."

And with this last injunction--futile, he knew as he gave it--he commended himself to whatever powers there be and opened the door.

Sir Tiglath had not yet arrived, but Lady Julia Postlethwaite was seated on a sofa by Mrs. Merillia, and was conversing with her about the Court, the dreadful amount of money a certain duke--her third cousin--had recently had to pay in Death Duties, the corrupt condition of society, and the absurd pretensions of the lower middle cla.s.ses. Lady Julia was sensitive and a very _grande dame_. She wore her hair powdered, and had a slight cough and exquisite manners. Once a lady in waiting, she was now a widow, possessed a set of apartments in Hampton Court Palace, worshipped Queen Alexandra, and had scarcely ever spoken to anybody who moved outside of Court Circles. The Duke of Wellington was said to have embraced her when a child.

Mrs. Merillia and this lady looked up when the door opened, and Lady Julia paused midway in a sentence, of which these were the opening words,--

"The old duke wouldn't make it over, and so poor Loftus has to pay nearly a million to the Chancellor of the Excheq--"

"How d'you do, Lady Julia? Grannie, I have persuaded my friends, Mr.

and Madame Sagittarius, to join us at dinner. Sir Tiglath b.u.t.t is most anxious to meet Mr. Sagittarius, who is a great astronomer. Let me--Madame Sagittarius, Mrs. Merillia--Mr. Sagittarius--Mrs. Merillia, my grandmother--Lady Julia Postlethwaite."

Mrs. Merillia, although taken completely by surprise, and fully conscious that her grandson had committed an outrage in turning an arranged and intimate quartette without permission into a disorganised s.e.xtette, bowed with self-possessed graciousness, and indicated a chair to Madame, who seated herself in it with that sort of defensive and ostentatious majesty which is often supposed by ill-bred people to be a perfect society manner. Mr. Sagittarius remained standing in his enormous suit, turning out his feet, over which Mr. Ferdinand's trousers rippled in broadcloth waves, in the first position. A slight pause ensued, during which the Prophet was uncomfortably affected by the behaviour of Madame, who gazed at the very neat and superior wig worn by Mrs. Merillia, and at that lady's charming silver grey damask gown, in a manner that suggested amazement tempered with indignation, her instant expression of these two sentiments being only held in check by a certain reverence which was doubtless inspired by the pretty room, the thick carpet, the ancestral pictures upon the walls, and the lofty bearing of Lady Julia Postlethwaite, who could scarcely conceal her very natural surprise at the extraordinary appearance of Mr. Sagittarius. As to Mrs.

Merillia, although she was, in reality, near fainting with wonder at her grandson's escapade, she preserved an expression of gracious benignity, and did not allow a motion of her eyelids or a flutter of her fan to betray her emotion at finding herself the unprepared hostess of such unusual guests. The Prophet broke the silence by saying, in a voice that cracked with agitation,--

"I trust--I sincerely trust that we shall have a clement spring this year."

Lady Julia, at whom he had looked while uttering this original desire, was about to reply when Madame uttered a stentorian click and interposed.

"In the spring the young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,"

she remarked, with the fict.i.tious ease of profound ill-breeding.

No one dared to dispute the portentous statement, and she resumed majestically,--