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Updated: April 30, 2025
A brawl with an innocent waiter, coming on the heels of that infernal episode with the policeman, would give people the impression that assailing the lower orders had become a hobby of his. "Sir?" said George politely. His brazen front shook Lord Belpher's confidence. "I haven't seen you before here, have I?" was all he could find to say. "No, sir," replied George smoothly.
Lord Belpher's case, inasmuch as he took himself extremely seriously and was not one of those who can extract humour even from their own misfortunes, was perhaps the hardest which comes under our notice; but his sister Maud was also experiencing mental disquietude of no mean order. Everything had gone wrong with Maud.
Convict son totters up the steps of the old home and punches the bell. What awaits him beyond? Forgiveness? Or the raspberry? True, the white-haired butler who knew him as a child will sob on his neck, but what of the old dad? How will dad take the blot of the family escutcheon?" Lord Belpher's scowl deepened. "It's not a joking matter," he said coldly. "Great Heavens, I'm not joking.
It is near to the dawn now and in the bushes live things are beginning to stir and whisper. "Maud!" Surely she can hear him? "Maud!" The silver stars looked down dispassionately. This sort of thing had no novelty for them. Lord Belpher's twenty-first birthday dawned brightly, heralded in by much twittering of sparrows in the ivy outside his bedroom.
"Good evening, your lordship. Good evening, sir." Lord Belpher acknowledged the salutation with a grunt, but Reggie was more affable. "How are you, Keggs? Now's your time, if you're going to do it." He stepped a little to one side and indicated Lord Belpher's crimson neck with an inviting gesture. "I beg your pardon, sir?" "Ah. You'd rather wait till you can do it a little more privately.
All you've got to do is to come to the servants' entrance at eight sharp tonight and say you're my cousin." "That's an awful thing to ask anyone to say." "Pardon?" "Nothing!" said George. The great ball in honour of Lord Belpher's coming-of-age was at its height.
She could have no possible motive in going to Little Weeting. He had never been to Little Weeting in his life, and there was no reason to suppose that Maud had either. The sign-post informed him a statement strenuously denied by the twin-blisters that the distance to Little Weeting was one and a half miles. Lord Belpher's view of it was that it was nearer fifty. He dragged himself along wearily.
Astonishment showed in Lord Belpher's round face. Just as it was about to be succeeded by indignation, the butler spoke again.
Besides these, there were perhaps half a dozen more of the closer relations: to Lord Belpher's way of thinking, half a dozen too many. He was not fond of his family. "Might I have a word with your lordship?" "What is it, Keggs?" Keggs was a self-possessed man, but he found it a little hard to begin.
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