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Updated: June 12, 2025
Luke was ready for her, with one foot against the rail for the deck was at an angle of thirty and more; no one could stand on it. He caught her deftly, and the breeze whirling round the deck-house blew her long hair across his face. She never changed colour. There was the nucleus of a good and strong woman somewhere in Agatha Ingham-Baker.
Ingham-Baker for sympathy in this sentiment, and that soft-hearted lady deemed it expedient to turn hastily away, avoiding his glance, denying all partisanship. Mrs. Ingham-Baker was not a person given to the disguise of her own feelings. She was plausible enough to the outer world. To herself she was quite frank, and hardly seemed to recognise this as the event she had most desired.
Harrington's keen eyes rested on the young sailor, and endeavoured somewhat obviously to draw Agatha's attention to it by frowns and heavily significant nods, which her dutiful daughter ignored. Mrs. Harrington glanced impatiently at the clock. "That stupid Count is late," she said. "Is the Count de Lloseta coming?" asked Mrs. Ingham-Baker eagerly.
"Fitz," she went on, "come here and tell me all about your new ship. I hope you are proud I am. I am often laughed at for a garrulous old woman when I begin talking of you!" She glanced aside at Mrs. Ingham-Baker, who was beaming on Fitz, as the simple-hearted beam on the rising sun. "Yes," said the stout lady, "we are all so delighted.
Can she be going to alter her no! But yes, it may be! Perhaps Susan knows." Mrs. Ingham-Baker then rang the bell twice, and resumed her seat. Presently an aged servant came into the room. It was easy to see at a glance that she was a very old woman, but the years seemed to weigh less on her mind than on her body. "Yes," she said composedly. "Oh eh, Susan," began Mrs.
No one looked at her except the Count, and his glance was momentary. "Yes and of course I have read the Spanish sketch. I suppose every one in London has! It makes me want to go to Spain." Mrs. Ingham-Baker bridled and glanced at the Spaniard. Agatha might be a countess yet a foreign one, but still a countess. Fitz was looking at De Lloseta.
At last he rose. "May I go now?" he asked. "Yes, if you like. But do not bring Luke to me until he is prepared to apologise for his ingratitude and rudeness." "What a dear boy he is!" ejaculated Mrs. Ingham-Baker almost before the door was closed. "So upright and honest and straightforward." "Yes," answered Mrs. Harrington, with a sigh of anger. "He will be a fine man," continued Mrs.
Agatha was only saying yesterday that your success was wonderful. She was quite excited about it." The fond mother looked invitingly towards her daughter with a smile that said as plainly as words "There you are! I have cleared the stage for you step in and score a point." But Agatha did not respond. "I suppose it is a steamer," continued Mrs. Ingham-Baker eagerly. "A steam man-of-war."
Susan's manner implied very subtly and gently that her place in this pleasant house was more assured than that of Mrs. Ingham-Baker, and perhaps that stout diplomatist awoke to this implication, for she pulled herself up with considerable dignity. "I hope that nothing is wrong," she said, in a tone that was intended to disclaim all intention of discussing such matters with a menial.
Mrs. Ingham-Baker gave a little sigh, and contemplated her wool-work bedroom slippers with an affection which their appearance certainly did not warrant. There was a suggestion of bygone defeats in sigh and attitude defeats borne with the resignation that followeth on habit. "I don't believe," she said, "that he will ever marry again." The girl tossed her pretty head.
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