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Updated: May 27, 2025
If it meant seeing Maud again he was prepared to waive the decencies. "What do you suggest?" he said. "It being a rainy evening and everyone indoors playing games and what not," Keggs was amiably tolerant of the recreations of the aristocracy "you would experience little chance of a hinterruption, were you to proceed to the lane outside the heast entrance of the castle grounds and wait there.
Keggs did not conceal a tender heart beneath a rugged exterior: he did not mourn over the picture of two loving fellow human beings separated by a misunderstanding; but he did want to win that sweepstake. His position, of course, was delicate. He could not got to Maud and beg her to confide in him.
Keggs was a stout, dignified, pigeon-toed old sinner, who cast off the butler when not on duty and displayed himself as something of a rounder. He was a man of many parts.
His visit to Keggs had been rather a late one and had lasted some time before the subject of the White Hope had been broached, with the result that, when Steve arrived among the white tiles and antiseptics, he found his godson in bed and asleep. In a chair by the cot Mamie sat sewing.
I keep a brave face before the world, but inwardly I burn with shame and agony and what not." The great door of the castle swung open, revealing Keggs, the butler. He was a man of reverend years, portly and dignified, with a respectfully benevolent face that beamed gravely on the young master and Mr. Byng, as if their coming had filled his cup of pleasure.
And one evening while Rosalie stumblingly explained, and eagerly received, and sceptically doubted, "But look here, Keggo," she cried, and stopped and blushed, abashed at her use of the nickname. Miss Keggs laughed. "Don't mind, Rosalie. Call me Keggo. I like it. It's much more friendly. I'm very fond of you, Rosalie."
He bore himself with the conscious dignity of one who, while he would have freely admitted he did not actually own the castle, was nevertheless aware that he was one of its most conspicuous ornaments. "You wished to see me, your lordship?" "Yes. Keggs, there are a number of outside men helping here tonight, aren't there?" "Indubitably, your lordship.
"Not like a grampus you can't, and don't you forget it." Keggs wagged his head reprovingly. "Well, so your Reggie Byng's gone and eloped, has he! That ought to teach you to be more careful another time 'ow you go gambling and plunging into sweepstakes. The idea of a child of your age 'aving the audacity to thrust 'isself forward like that!" "Don't call him my Reggie Byng! I didn't draw 'im!"
To the orderly routine that stretched back to the time when she had been hurried home in disgrace from Wales there had succeeded a mad whirl of events, to which the miracle of tonight had come as a fitting climax. She had not begun to dress for dinner till somewhat late, and had consequently entered the drawing-room just as Keggs was announcing that the meal was ready.
This was a matter which called for silent meditation, not for chit-chat with a garrulous butler. "That will do, Keggs." "Very good, madam." Keggs withdrew to his pantry, well pleased. He considered that he had done himself justice as a raconteur. He had not spoiled a good story in the telling. Mrs. Porter went to her room and sat down to think.
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