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One or two good bullets just now would be a welcome diversion. "Yes?" said Mrs Peagrim. "Have you never felt," babbled Uncle Chris, "that, feeling as I feel, I might have felt . . . that is to say, might be feeling a feeling . . . ?" There was a tap at the door of the box. Uncle Chris started violently. Jill came in. "Oh, I beg your pardon," she said. "I wanted to speak . . ."
"Tell Mrs Peagrim that I shall be calling later in the afternoon, but cannot be spared just now." He replaced the receiver. "Aunt Olive's secretary," he murmured in a soft aside to Mr Trevis. "Aunt Olive wanted me to go for a ride." He turned to Jill. "Excuse me. Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Mariner?" Jill's composure was now completely restored.
He had sold out, and he was feeling like the man who parts for a song with shares in an apparently goldless gold mine, only to read in the papers next morning that a new reef has been located. Into each life some rain must fall. Quite a shower was falling now into young Mr. Pilkington's. "Of course," went on Mrs Peagrim, "when the play was done at my house, it was acted by amateurs.
So there you have it in a bally nutshell!" Scarcely had Freddie ceased to administer it to his former friend in a bally nutshell, when Uncle Chris, warm and dishevelled from the dance as interpreted by Mrs Waddesleigh Peagrim, came bustling up, saving Derek the necessity of replying to the harangue.
'A little bird whispers to me that there were great doings last night on the stage of the Gotham Theatre after the curtain had fallen on "The Rose of America" which, as everybody knows, is the work of Mrs Peagrim's clever young nephew, Otis Pilkington." Mrs Peagrim shot a glance at her clever young nephew, to see how he appreciated the boost, but Otis' thoughts were far away once more.
"Fibs, my dear, or shall we say, artistic mouldings of the unshapely clay of truth are the . . . how shall I put it? . . . Well, anyway, they come in dashed handy. It would never have done for Mrs Peagrim to have found out that you were in the chorus. If she discovered that my niece was in the chorus, she would infallibly suspect me of being an adventurer.
Even in his agony there had been a certain faint consolation, due to the entirely unwonted note of respect in the voice with which she had addressed him since the fall of the curtain. He shrank from forfeiting this respect, unentitled though he was to it. "Yes," he said in his precise voice. "That, of course, is so." "Well, then!" said Mrs Peagrim. "But it seems so unnecessary!
And, of course, not a word to Mrs Peagrim." "Of course." "Very well, then, my boy." said Uncle Chris affably. "I will leave you to turn the whole thing over in your mind. Act entirely as you think best. How is your insomnia, by the way? Did you try Nervino? Capital! There's nothing like it. It did wonders for me! Good-night, good-night!"
Old Peagrim will have had the fish-traps open to-night, for the river will be flooded, and then you will be able to see some sport, that is if it leaves off raining."
Brewster was to be seen with his bride frequently beneath Mrs Peagrim's roof. Against the higher strata of Bohemia Mrs Peagrim had no prejudice at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. She liked the society of those whose names were often in the papers and much in the public mouth. It seemed to Otis Pilkington, in short, that Love had found a way.
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