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Emmy was to be summoned to Nunsmere. Sypher was about to deprecate the idea when he reflected again, and thought of Hotspur and the spirits from the vasty deep. Cousin Jane could call, and so could Mrs. Oldrieve. But would Emmy come? As the answer to the question was in the negative he left Cousin Jane to her comfortable resolutions. "You will no doubt discuss the matter with Dix," he said.
"Remarkably well. Emmy has had him christened. I wanted him to be called after you. Zoroaster was the only man's name I could think of, but she did not like it, and so she called it Octavius after me. Also Oldrieve after the family, and William." "Why William?" "After Pitt," said Septimus in the tone of a man who gives the obvious answer. She halted for a moment, perplexed. "Pitt?"
About two or three months before the marriage, Emmy Oldrieve and Mordaunt Prince were staying together at an hotel in Tunbridge Wells. There was no mistake about it. There they were. They had a motor with them. A week before the Dix marriage was announced Mordaunt Prince married a Mrs. Morris old Sol Morris, the money-lender's widow." Sypher stared at him.
"Good heavens, mother, they're married!" cried Zora, staring at a telegram she had just received. Mrs. Oldrieve woke with a start from her after-luncheon nap. "Who, dear?" "Why, Emmy and Septimus Dix. Read it." Mrs.
Oldrieve impressed on his memory a recipe for an omelette which he was to convey verbally to Wiggleswick, although he confessed that the only omelette that Wiggleswick had tried to make they had used for months afterwards as a kettle-holder; but Emmy did not prattle.
He had observed that there were very nice houses in Berkeley Square. He wondered how much a year they were, with rates and taxes. For himself, he could perch in any attic close by. He resolved to discuss Berkeley Square with Emmy as soon as she arrived. William Octavius Oldrieve Dix, Member of Parliament, ought to start life in proper surroundings.
You had better write and order her to come home at once." "I'll write to-morrow," sighed Mrs. Oldrieve. Sypher reflected on the impossibilities of the proposition and on the reasons Emmy still had for remaining in exile in Paris. He also pitied the child that was to be brought up by Cousin Jane. It had extravagant tastes. He smiled.
Oldrieve had retired for the night, and while Zora happened to be absent from the room in search of an atlas, Septimus and Emmy were left alone for a moment. "I'm so sorry you have a headache," said Septimus sympathetically. "Why don't you go to bed?" "I hate bed. I can't sleep," she replied, with an impatient shake of the body. "You mustn't mind me.
She was small and Zora was large, and Zora's embraces were often disarranging. "He is a gentleman and can afford to keep a wife." "And steady?" said Zora, with a smile. "I should think quite steady," said Mrs. Oldrieve, without one. "And he would amuse Emmy all day long." "I don't think it is part of a husband's duty, dear, to amuse his wife," said Mrs. Oldrieve.
Oldrieve after the service and escorted home, had no such scruples. She tore the vicar's theology into fragments and scattered them behind her as she walked, like a hare in a paper chase.
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