ening--dress,' I echoed blankly. 'What can it mean?'
'Frankly, I think the poor old chap's brain is getting a little
unhinged,' hazarded Henry. 'Do you remember the episode with the white
spats and gloves the other day? I think you ought to persuade him to
see a specialist, my dear.'
Suddenly I remembered the apparent reason for poor William's altered
manner and smiled. 'I don't think we need call in medical aid just
yet,' I replied.
Nevertheless, I felt that he must be cured of this foolishness as soon
as possible, for, as I had already hinted to him, any attempt at
embellishing his person would only make him appear more grotesque. How
little did I then dream of the amazing surprise that was in store for
me!
I was sitting alone in the drawing-room that same evening awaiting my
two guests, Marion and William (Henry was upstairs dressing), when
Elizabeth burst into the room.
'Oh, 'm, 'e's come!' she exclaimed, 'an' you never did see anything in
your life 'arf so funny. I've been larfin' fit to split my sides.'
'Elizabeth,' I said coldly, 'what is wrong? Of whom are you speaking?'
For answer she threw her apron over her head and went off into an
almost hysterical fit of laughing.
''Oo'd have thort it,' she said when she had slightly recovered. 'That
there grizzly bear of a Mr. Roarings, too!'
'So you are referring to one of my guests,' I interrupted sternly.
'I'm ashamed of you, Elizabeth.'
'Well, you only ort ter see 'im now! Talk about grubs turnin' into
butterflies----'
'I'm not talking about anything of the sort,' I interposed with extreme
asperity of manner. 'Am I to understand that Mr. Rawlings has arrived?'
'Not 'arf, 'e 'asn't. Wait till you see Mamma's boy. 'E's a fair
razzle-dazzle from top to toe. Oh, my godmother!' And being seized
with another burst of hysterical laughter she dashed from the room.
[Illustration: 'A fair razzle-dazzle.']
I sighed as I put aside the French novel I had been reading when I was
so rudely disturbed. I could not help wishing just then that Elizabeth
had a little less character and a little more deference, and I decided
that I must rebuke her for her familiarity. Then, remembering her
supreme art in grilling a steak, I decided that rebukes--practised on
domestics--are rather risky things in these days.
'Good evening,' said the deep voice of William behind me.
'Good evening,' I said casually, turning round and holding out my hand.
Th
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