Webster, "go
shoving your oar in when your social superiors are talking! I've had to
speak to you about that before. My remarks were addressed to Mrs.
Withers here."

He indicated the cook with a respectful gesture.

"Yes, here's the note, Mrs. Withers. Of course, if you had a steamy
kettle handy, in about half a moment we could ... but no, perhaps it's
wiser not to risk it. And, come to that, I don't need to unstick the
envelope to know what's inside here. It's the raspberry, ma'am, or I've
lost all my power to read the human female countenance. Very cold and
proud-looking she was! I don't know who this S. Marlowe is, but I do
know one thing; in this hand I hold the instrument that's going to give
it him in the neck, proper! Right in the neck, or my name isn't Montagu
Webster!"

"Well!" said Mrs. Withers, comfortably, pausing for a moment from her
labours. "Think of that!"

"The way I look at it," said Webster, "is that there's been some sort of
understanding between our Miss B. and this S. Marlowe, and she's thought
better of it and decided to stick to the man of her parent's choice.
She's chosen wealth and made up her mind to hand the humble suitor the
mitten. There was a rather similar situation in 'Cupid or Mammon,' that
Nosegay Novelette I was reading in the train coming down here, only that
ended different. For my part I'd be better pleased if our Miss B. would
let the cash go, and obey the dictates of her own heart; but these
modern girls are all alike! All out for the stuff, they are! Oh, well,
it's none of my affair," said Webster, stifling a not unmanly sigh. For
beneath that immaculate shirt-front there beat a warm heart. Montagu
Webster was a sentimentalist.

CHAPTER XVI

WEBSTER, FRIEND IN NEED

At half-past two that afternoon, full of optimism and cold beef, gaily
unconscious that Webster with measured strides was approaching ever
nearer with the note that was to give it him in the neck, proper, Samuel
Marlowe dangled his feet from the top bar of the gate at the end of the
lane, and smoked contentedly as he waited for Billie to make her
appearance. He had had an excellent lunch; his pipe was drawing well,
and all Nature smiled. The breeze from the sea across the meadows
tickled pleasantly the back of his head, and sang a soothing song in the
long grass and ragged-robins at his feet. He was looking forward with a
roseate glow of anticipation to the moment when the white flutter of
Billie'