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Updated: May 29, 2025
Well, you might call it auburn ... or russet ... or you might call it Titian...." "Never mind what you might call it. Is it red?" "Red? Why, yes. That is a very good description of it. Now that you put it to me like that, it is red." "Has she a trick of grabbing at you suddenly, when she gets excited, like a kitten with a ball of wool?" "Yes. Yes, she has." Eustace Hignett uttered a sharp cry.
"It's not his fault his head's the wrong size," said Jane. "He must get himself out as best he can," said Mrs. Hignett. "Very well," said Sam with bitter dignity. "Then I will not trespass further on your hospitality, Aunt Adeline. I have no doubt the local blacksmith will be able to get this damned thing off me. I shall go to him now.
But where is he going to live when he gets to England?" "Where is he going to live? Why, at Windles, of course. Where else?" "But I thought you were letting Windles for the summer?" Mrs. Hignett stared. "Letting Windles!" She spoke as one might address a lunatic. "What put that extraordinary idea into your head?" "I thought father said something about your letting the place to some American."
Under her breath she muttered an exclamation of surprise in one of the lesser-known dialects of Northern Nigeria. "Billie!" she whispered sharply. "What is the matter, Jane?" "Who is that man at the piano? Do you know him?" "As a matter of fact, I do," said Billie. "His name is Hignett. Why?" "It's the man I met on the Subway!" She breathed a sigh. "Poor little fellow, how miserable he looks!"
"Well, I'll be on the promenade deck after breakfast to-morrow. If you can arrange to have him flash his eyes then say between nine-thirty and ten I shall be delighted to watch them." "Good God!" cried Eustace Hignett. He stared at the figure which loomed above him in the fading light which came through the porthole of the state-room.
He glanced about the room with gleaming, excited eyes. "Mrs. Hignett, I must have a word with you alone!" "You are having a word with me alone." "I hardly know how to begin." "Then let me help you. It is quite impossible. I will never consent." Bream Mortimer started. "Then you have heard about it?" "I have heard about nothing else since I met Mr. Bennett in London. Mr.
And the deuce of it is, your father's Bennett's legal representative over in England, and he's sure to go to him." "Well, that'll do the pater a bit of good. Legal fees." Eustace Hignett waved his arms despairingly at his cousin's obtuseness. "But don't you see?
Hignett, who had been a chafing auditor of this interchange of courtesies, "is beside the point. Why did you dance in the hall, Samuel, and play the orchestrion?" "Yes," said Mr. Bennett, reminded of his grievance, "waking people up." "Scaring us all to death!" complained Mr. Mortimer. "I remember you as a boy, Samuel," said Mrs.
"Nothing of the kind!" It seemed to Sam that his aunt spoke somewhat vehemently, even snappishly, in correcting what was a perfectly natural mistake. He could not know that the subject of letting Windles for the summer was one which had long since begun to infuriate Mrs. Hignett. People had certainly asked her to let Windles. In fact people had pestered her.
After all ... poor old Eustace ... quite a good fellow, no doubt in many ways ... but, coming down to brass tacks, what was there about Eustace that gave him any claim to monopolise the affections of a wonderful girl? Where, in a word, did Eustace Hignett get off?
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