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Updated: September 20, 2025
A curtain closed on the prospect, but if memory was resolved that it would not be drowned, he had at any rate dosed it with something fresh to occupy its digestion. His opera-glass had been scouring the house for a sight of Mrs. Lovell, and at last she appeared in Lord Elling's box. "I can give you two minutes, Algy," she said, as he entered and found her opportunely alone. "We have lost, I hear.
"Well," said Van judicially, "Algy's entitled to his share." He raised his voice: "Hey there, Algy come out here and play with the boys." Mrs. Dick had caught sufficient breath to explode. "Fun!" she said. "My windows broken! My house all upset. Snakes alive, if ever I heard " Algy appeared and interrupted. "What's mallah you, Van?" he said. "I got no time fool lound now. Been play too much.
"You are only a boy in their hands, my cousin Algy!" said Mrs. Lovell. Algernon nodded with a self-defensive knowingness. "I fancy there's no doubt her sister has written to her that she's married. It's certain she has. She's a blunt sort of girl; not one to lie, not even for a sister or a lover, unless she had previously made up her mind to it. In that case, she wouldn't stick at much."
Then with deliberation he raised his clinched fist and thrust it forcibly against Mr. Tobey's eye, repeating the impact upon his nose, his chin and his cheek in a succession of jarring thumps that were delivered with scientific precision. Algy fairly howled, kicking and struggling to be free.
"I wish to heavens that he had never been at school anywhere!" cry I, in a fury. "I am sick to death of hearing that he was at school with father. Will no one ever forget it?" "He is for-ty-sev-en!" says Algy, at last closing his mouth, and speaking with slow impressiveness. "Nineteen from forty-seven! how many years older than you?"
"What do you mean, sir, by this rebellious attitude?" questioned Tobey, sticking his damaged face close to that of the fiddler. Dan'l blinked with his one eye but refused to answer. "I've a good mind to skin you alive," continued the leader, in a savage tone. "You'll either obey my orders or I'll throw you into the snake pit." "Let him alone, Algy," said Tim, carelessly.
Plays of the Prisoner of Zenda type would come under this head: so would Sir Arthur Pinero's farces, The Magistrate, The Schoolmistress, Dandy Dick; so would Mr. Carton's light comedies, Lord and Lady Algy, Wheels within Wheels, Lady Huntworth's Experiment; so would most of Mr. Barrie's comedies; so would Mr. Arnold Bennett's play, The Honeymoon.
And if a man of sixty can confess so much, how happy should you be, my dear Algy, to have received these impressions at your age! Yet, my dear lad, remember they are of value only when received upon a previous basis of character.
"It isn't in his name, you know, although that doesn't matter, for he couldn't sell his desert ranch if he had a title to it. I suppose that is what his folks were afraid of. Algy is the fourth son of old Lord Featherbone, and got into a disgraceful mess in London some years ago.
We are all rather gapy at first, more especially Algy, who has deferred the making of the greater part of his toilet till his return, looks disheveled, and sounds grumbling. But before long both gapes and grumbles depart.
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