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Talking of Cleone, sir, she's in the orchard. She's also in a shocking temper indeed quite cattish, so you'd better stay here and talk to me. But then she's alone, and looking vastly handsome, I'll admit, so, of course, you're dying to be gone now aren't you?" "No," Barnabas replied, and turning, bade Peterby drive on to the house.
Barnabas had become a dandy, from the crown of his curly head to his silk stockings and polished shoes, and, upon the whole, was not ill-pleased with himself. "But they're dangerously tight, aren't they, Peterby?" he inquired suddenly, speaking his thought aloud. "Tight, sir!" repeated Mr.
"No," answered Barnabas, stifling a sigh, "my way lies in the opposite direction; I am going back, to the 'Coursing Hound. And that reminds me what of you, what are your plans for the future?" "Sir," stammered Peterby, "I I had ventured to to hope that you might take me with you, unless you wished to to be rid of me " "Rid of you, John!" cried Barnabas, turning at last, "no never.
Chichester and Ronald called here and stayed an hour. Ronald was full of his woes, as usual, so I left him to Cleone, and kept Mr. Chichester dancing attendance on me. And, oh dear me! to see the white rage of the man! It was deliciously thrilling, and I shivered most delightfully. "You sent for me, sir?" said Peterby, as Barnabas re-folded the letter. "Yes, John.
Now as he ended, Peterby raised one hand with forefinger outstretched; and, looking where he pointed, Barnabas beheld the little shoe. But when he glanced up again, Peterby was gone. "Oh hif you please, sir!" Barnabas started, raised his head, and, glancing over his shoulder, beheld Milo of Crotona.
"John," said he, pointing to it, "have you ever seen this before?" "Why, sir," replied Peterby, regarding the little shoe with brow of frowning portent, "I think I have." "Sir," answered John, still grave of mouth and solemn of eye, "to the best of my belief it belongs to the Lady Cleone Meredith." "So she really was here, John?"
And now, you are hungry you say? Then I'll sit here and gossip to you while you take your chicken broth! You may bring it in, Mr. Peterby." "Chicken broth!" snarled Barnabas, frowning blacker than ever, "but, madam, I tell you I won't have the stuff; I repeat, madam, that I am quite determined to " "There, there rest your poor tired head so!
And Natty Bell was quite right." "Sir?" said Peterby. "You don't know Natty Bell as yet, John, but you may; he is a very remarkable man! He told me, I remember, that in Town, a man had his clothes put on for him, and remembered them, and so he does, the difficulty will be ever to forget 'em, they" here Barnabas stole a glance at his legs "they positively obtrude themselves, John!
Peterby Paul did have good reason for calling her a 'Whosis'." Mr. Peterby Paul appeared after a short time striding down the wooded hillside balancing a five-gallon gasoline can in either hand. "I reckon you can get to Ridgeton on this here," he said jovially. "Guess I'd better set up a sign down here so's other of you autermobile folks kin take heart if ye git stuck."
But seeing Peterby only shook his head and sighed, Barnabas turned to stare out of the window. "And she left this morning with the Duchess, did she?" he inquired, without looking round. "Yes, sir." "Where for?" "For London, as I understood, sir." Hereupon Barnabas was silent for a time, during which Peterby watched him solicitously. "Is 'The Terror' still here?" Barnabas inquired suddenly.
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