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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Whatever is the Aunt laughing about?" inquired Don. "Dear me!" gasped Mrs. Chumley, struggling to regain composure "poor child! Of course you have nowhere to sleep to-night. How ridiculous a squirrel without a nest." She hugged Flamby affectionately. "You will stay with me, dear, won't you?" "Oh, but really may I? Have you room?" "Certainly, dear. Friends often stay with me.
Chumley Potts vouches for it. Speaks foreign English. He thinks her more ninny than knave: she is the tool of a wily plotter, picked up off the highway road by Lord Fleetwood as soon as he had her in his eye. Sir Meeson Corby wrings his frilled hands to depict the horror of the hands of that tramp the young lord had her from. They afflict him malariously still.
And first I am going to describe to you the young Earl of Fleetwood, son of the strange Welsh lady, the richest nobleman of his time, and how he persued and shunned the lady who had fascinated him, Henrietta, the daughter of Commodore Baldwin Fakenham; and how he met Carinthia Jane; and concerning that lovely Henrietta and Chillon Kirby-Levellier; and of the young poet of ordinary parentage, and the giant Captain Abrane, and Livia the widowed Countess of Fleetwood, Henrietta's cousin, daughter of Curtis Fakenham; and numbers of others; Lord Levellier, Lord Brailstone, Lord Simon Pitscrew, Chumley Potts, young Ambrose Mallard; and the English pugilist, such a man of honour though he drank; and the adventures of Madge, Carinthia Jane's maid.
Mallard, speaking of it like the gentleman he could be, while Chumley Potts wagged impatient acquiescence in a romantic episode of the Ring, that kept the talk from the hotter theme. 'Money's Bank of England to-day, you think? he interposed, and had his answer after Mallard had said: 'The girl 's rather good-looking, too. 'You may double your bets, Chummy.
Nevin selected The Hostel as an ideal spot," he said, "where you would be free from interference and able to live your own life. He was influenced, too, by the fact that I have an aunt living there, a Mrs. Chumley, one of the most delightful old souls you could wish to meet." Flamby was watching him all the time, and presently she spoke.
Both gentlemen kept their heads uncovered in a suspense; they might for a word or two more of that savour have turned into the conveniently spacious meadow. They were induced, on the contrary, to enter the channel of English humour, by hearing Chumley Potts exclaim: 'His nob! and all of them laughed at the condensed description of a good hit back, at the English party's cost.
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