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Updated: May 13, 2025
Maper took her to the engine-room, whence he said came the power that turned those myriad wheels, moved those myriad levers, in whatever department they might be and whatever their function. Eileen gazed long at the mighty engine, rapt in reverie. She could scarcely tear herself away, and when at last Mr.
"Bob seems as scared as a rabbit and as learned as an owl." Suddenly she had difficulty in repressing a laugh. What if Bob were the corresponding male companion! "I see Mr. Robert has forgotten his pipe," she said audaciously. Mrs. Maper was taken aback. "The the boy is shy," she stammered. What! Was there a son lying perdu in the house all this while? What fun!
Besides, there was never a formal appointment, not infrequently, indeed, a disappointment, when the library held nothing but books. Robert Maper merely provided that possibility of an innocent double life, without which existence would have been too savourless for Eileen.
His wife shot him a dignified rebuke, as though he were forgetting his station in undue familiarity. Afterwards Eileen wondered who Bob was, but at the moment she could think of nothing but the farcical complications arising from the idea of Mrs. Maper's providing Mr. Maper with a male companion secretly to improve his manners. Of course the two companions would fall in love with each other.
Why didn't she feel anything about Robert Maper except a mild irritation at the destruction of so truly platonic a converse? In a book, of which his proposal savoured, she would have found him quite a romantic person. In the actuality she felt as frigid as if his marble forehead was chilling her, and what she remembered most acutely was his fishlike gasping.
Who would dream of Plato's dialogues? And you talk of incredible!" "I am content to be called silly." He tried to take her hand. "Well, don't be it in public. You will rank with Lord Tippleton who married Bessie Bilhook, and made a Lady of her the only ladyhood she's ever known." "No, I can't rank with him," he smiled back. "I'm only a Baronet." "It sounds the same. Lady Maper!" she murmured.
She even raised her arm towards the ceiling or shot it towards the centre of the carpet pattern, and Mrs. Maper followed it spellbound. But from all these monkey tricks she found relief in her real music.
The next morning, as she sat answering advertisements, the programme-girl knocked at the door of the bedroom and announced that Mr. Maper had called. Eileen turned red. It was too disconcerting. Would he never take "no" for an answer? "I won't see him. I can't see him," she cried. The girl departed and returned. "Oh, Miss O'Keeffe, he begs so for only one word." "The word is 'no."
I didn't pay you like a lady and feed you like a duchess to set your cap at your betters. But I told Mr. Maper what 'ud come of it if we let you heat with us, though I didn't dream what a sly little mouse " The torrent went on and on.
Maper's daughter-in-law appealed to her, and she laughed to herself in soft duet with the music. And in the middle of the duet Mrs. Maper herself burst in, with her bodice half hooked and her hair half done. "What's this I hear, Miss Hirish Himpudence, of your goings-on with my son?" Eileen swung round on her stool. "I beg your pardon," she said.
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