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Updated: May 16, 2025
He never gave a thought to his proposal; he sought no occasion to make it. Captain Baster's love was of his life a thing apart, but his social aspirations were the chief fact of his existence. Besides, there was no haste; he knew that Mrs. Dangerfield was awaiting his avowal with a passionate eagerness; any time would do for that.
"Was it the apple-pie bed, or the lost keys, or the water in the boot, or the clothes-line across the road?" It was well that the Terror could spring with a cat's swiftness: Captain Baster's boot missed him by a hair's breadth. The Terror ran round the house, in at the back door and up to the bedroom of Erebus. "Waxy?" he cried joyously. "He's black in the face!
Captain Baster's face was a rich rose-pink; he, glared round the frozen circle now trying hard not to look at his boots; he saw the faces melt into irrepressible smiles; he looked to Sir Maurice, the man he had made his bosom friend, for an indignant outburst; Sir Maurice was smiling, too.
I told him he said he loved a joke." Erebus only growled deep down in her throat. She was bitterly aggrieved that she had not had a hand in Captain Baster's downfall the night before. The Terror had awakened her to tell her joyfully of his glorious exploit and of the shuddering welkin. He paid no heed to the rumbling of her discontent; he said: "Now, you quite understand.
It occurred to the Terror that it might be the heels of Sir Maurice on the floor. Mrs. Dangerfield rang for old Sarah and instructed her to pull the gorse prickles out of Captain Baster's clothes. She had nearly finished when Sir Maurice returned. He carried a handkerchief in his hand, and he had recovered his superb self-possession; but he seemed somewhat exhausted.
The Terror locked Captain Baster's portmanteau; and as he placed the keys beside the shaving-brush, he said coldly: "That'll teach him not to be so careless." Erebus giggled; then she took the water-jug and filled one of Captain Baster's inviting dress-boots with water. Wiggins rocked with laughter. "Don't stand giggling there! Why don't you do something?" said Erebus sharply.
Wiggins looked thoughtful; then he said: "A clothes-brush in bed is very annoying when you stick your foot against it." He stepped toward the dressing-table; but the Terror was before him. He took the clothes-brush and set it firmly, bristles outward, against the bottom of the folded sheet of the apple-pie bed, where one or the other of Captain Baster's feet was sure to find it.
At the sound of their footsteps in her hall the stout but good-humored landlady came bustling out of the bar to learn what they wanted. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pittaway," said the Terror politely. "We've come for Captain Baster's cigarette-case. He's left it somewhere in his room." At the thought of handling the shining cigarette-case Mrs.
"Nevertheless I must apologize for my son's exploding such an uncommonly violent bomb at a quiet garden party," said the higher mathematician. "I suspect he underrated its effect." His tone was apologetic, but there was no excess of contrition in it. "What I think is that Captain Baster's notion of humor is catching; and that it affected Erebus and Wiggins," said Sir Maurice amiably.
Two or three times she rose and walked up and down the room; and when she saw her deep, dark, troubled eyes in the two old, almost giltless round mirrors, they did not please her as they usually did. Those eyes were one of the sources from which had sprung Captain Baster's attraction to her.
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