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And when I saw there was a horse running in the Derby called after one of the battles in the Franco-German war, I said I MUST put some money on it, for once in a way, though I disapprove of racing. And it's actually won." There was a general groan. No one groaned more deeply than the professor of military history. "Who and what is Mr. Brope?" demanded the aunt of Clovis suddenly. Mrs.
"I wonder why it is that scandal seems so much worse under a roof," observed Clovis; "I've always regarded it as a proof of the superior delicacy of the cat tribe that it conducts most of its scandals above the slates." "Now I come to think of it," resumed Mrs. Riversedge, "there are things about Mr. Brope that I've never been able to account for.
I've long ago given up trying to do anything with it myself. I regard one's hair as I regard husbands: as long as one is seen together in public one's private divergences don't matter. Surely that was the luncheon gong." Septimus Brope and Clovis had the smoking-room to themselves after lunch. The former seemed restless and preoccupied, the latter quietly observant.
Brope would be the last person to do such a thing." "He is the first person to do such a thing, as far as my information goes, and if I have any voice in the matter he certainly shall be the last. Of course, I am not referring to respectably-intentioned lovers."
She shut her lips with the resolute finality of one who enjoys the blessed certainty of being implored to open them again. "Further evidence!" exclaimed her hostess; "do tell me!" "As I was coming upstairs after breakfast Mr. Brope was just passing my room.
It happens to be my name." She cut short Mrs. Riversedge's flood of apologies by abruptly remarking: "The question is not whether I'm to call my maid Florinda, but whether Mr. Brope is to be permitted to call her Florrie. I am strongly of opinion than he shall not." "He may have been repeating the words of some song," said Mrs.
"I mean there's a SONG with that refrain," hurriedly explained Mrs. Riversedge, "and there's 'Rhoda, Rhoda kept a pagoda, and 'Maisie is a daisy, and heaps of others. Certainly it doesn't sound like Mr. Brope to be singing such songs, but I think we ought to give him the benefit of the doubt." "I had already done so," said Mrs. Troyle, "until further evidence came my way."
"What is a lorry?" asked Septimus suddenly; "I don't mean the thing on wheels, of course I know what that is, but isn't there a bird with a name like that, the larger form of a lorikeet?" "I fancy it's a lory, with one 'r," said Clovis lazily, "in which case it's no good to you." Septimus Brope stared in some astonishment.
Later in the afternoon Clovis found his aunt and Mrs. Riversedge indulging in gentle exercise in the Jacobean garden. "I've spoken to Mr. Brope about F.," he announced. "How splendid of you! What did he say?" came in a quick chorus from the two ladies.
"Dullness I could overlook," said the aunt of Clovis; "what I cannot forgive is his making love to my maid." "My dear Mrs. Troyle," gasped the hostess, "what an extraordinary idea! I assure you Mr. Brope would not dream of doing such a thing."
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