Part 23 (1/2)
”He was.”
”But, bless my soul--_he_ was my brother-in-law d.i.c.k--d.i.c.k Benham's best friend.”
The Major's slightly ironical homage had given place to a serious excitement, a respectful interest.
”Oh--d.i.c.ky Benham--is _he_--?”
”Rather. I've heard him talk about Frank Levitt scores of times. Do you hear that, Waddington? Mrs. Levitt knows all my sister's people. Why on earth haven't we met before?”
Mr. Waddington writhed, while between them they reeled off a long series of names, people and places, each a link joining up Major Markham and Mrs. Levitt. The Major was so excited about it that he went round the garden telling Thurston and Hawtrey and Corbett, so that presently all these gentlemen formed round Mrs. Levitt an interested and animated group. Mr. Waddington hovered miserably on the edge of it; short of thrusting Markham aside with his elbow (Markham for choice) he couldn't have broken through. He would give it up and go away, and be drawn back again and again; but though Mrs. Levitt could see him plainly, no summons from her beautiful eyes invited his approach.
His behaviour became noticeable. It was observed chiefly by his son Horry.
Horry took Barbara apart. ”I say, have you seen my guv'nor?”
”No. What? Where?”
She could see by his face that he was drawing her into some iniquitous, secret by-path of diversion.
”There, just behind you. Turn round--this way--but don't look as if you'd spotted him.... Did you ever see anything like him? He's like a Newfoundland dog trying to look over a gate. It wouldn't be half so funny if he wasn't so dignified all the time.”
She didn't approve of Horry. He wasn't decent. But the dignity--it _was_ wonderful.
Horry went on. ”What on earth did the mater ask that woman for? She might have known he'd make a fool of himself.”
”Oh, Horry, you mustn't. It's awful of you. You really _are_ a little beast.”
”I'm not. Fancy doing it at his own garden party. He never thinks of _us_. Look at the dear little mater, there, pretending she doesn't see him. _That's_ what makes me mad, Barbara.”
”Well, you ought to pretend you don't see it, too.”
”I've been pretending the whole blessed afternoon. But it's no good pretending with _you_. You jolly well see everything.”
”I don't go and draw other people's attention to it.”
”Oh, come, how about Ralph? You know you wouldn't let him miss him.”
”Ralph? Oh, Ralph's different. I shouldn't point him out to Lady Corbett.”
”No more should I. _You_'re different, too. You and Ralph and me are the only people capable of appreciating him. Though I wouldn't swear that the mater doesn't, sometimes.”
”Yes. But you go too far, Horry. You're cruel to him, and we're not.”
”It's all very well for you. He isn't your father.... Oh, Lord, he's craning his neck over Markham's shoulder now. What his face must look like from the other side--”
”If you found your father drunk under a lilac bush I believe you'd go and fetch me to look at him.”
”I would, if he was as funny as he is now.... But I say, you know, I can't have him going on like that. I've got to stop it, somehow. What would you do if you were me?”
”Do? I think I should ask him to go and take Lady Corbett in to tea.”
”Good.”