Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIIOn one of those perfect July days which are occasionally vouchsafed to the inhabitants of the British Isles Cynthia Bell and John Leslie were married.They had chosen an old church, tucked away in an unfashionable corner of South London, as the scene of their wedding and had asked to the ceremony only those whose friendship they really valued.Lady Galston had flatly refused to sanction the marriage or to be present at it, but Cynthia’s father had, once more, asserted himself and had brought his daughter to London and insisted on giving her away himself.“A good thing Lady Galston has taken that line,” was the comment of that other woman who had mothered Cynthia so efficiently in her time of trouble, as she and Hatter Fayre drove together from the church to the Staveleys’ house in Eaton Square which they had insisted on lending for the occasion.“She’s never been an atom of good to that child since the day she was born and, in her present mood, she’d cast a blight over a Bacchanalian orgy!”They found Cynthia and Leslie in the hall on their arrival and it certainly did not seem as if Lady Galston’s antagonism had served to dim the girl’s radiance on this, the happiest day of her life.She stood, her arm through Leslie’s, talking to old Mrs. Doggett and surrounded by a shy, beaming crowd of Galston retainers who had come of their own accord all the way from Cumberland to see her married. Fayre, looking round, recognized the Gunnets and, with them, his own special protégé, Albert Small, late tramp, now boot-boy, dog-washer, bicycle-cleaner, etc., at Fayre’s newly acquired cottage in Surrey. He was resplendent in an old suit of his master’s and looked a very different being from the furtive and defiant tatterdemalion who had slept in John Leslie’s barn on the fatal night of March 23rd.At the sight of Fayre and his companion, Cynthia gave a little cry of pleasure and came forward eagerly to greet them.“It’s all much too wonderful to be true!” she said. “Even now, I feel as if I may wake up at any minute!”“It’s wonderful. But it’s not my idea of a quiet wedding,” gibed Fayre, looking round the crowded hall. “The whole village of Keys and all the tenants seem to have migrated from the North to wish you luck!”“Aren’t they pets? It never occurred to me that they would dream of coming so far, but Father received a sort of deputation, headed by Gunnet, to ask if they might be present. Gunnet said that, after what had happened, he’d take it as a kindness if he might be allowed to attend! They’re all going back by the night train. There are some old friends waiting to see you upstairs. Even Dr. Gregg has turned up. I asked him, though I didn’t think it was much in his line, and he said that, as he’dbein London anyhow on business, he’d be very pleased to look in. Do go and be kind to him; he looks so miserable and he’s already been quite rude to Father, just to show that he isn’t shy!”“I’m glad you’re not going too far away from them all,” said Fayre. “Bill tells me that the farm is finished. It sounds charming.”Leslie had resigned his tenancy of the farm near Galston and built a comfortable, roomy house on some farm-land on the Staveley estate. After what had happened he had not cared to take Cynthia to the ill-fated house up the lane nor had he wished to settle down in the immediate vicinity of his mother-in-law. The Staveleys had been glad to have Cynthia as a neighbour and, Fayre suspected, had done a good deal towards giving Leslie a good start in his venture.“It’s lovely and the land’s gorgeous. John’s simply delighted. You’re going to be our first guest, Uncle Fayre. Promise you’ll come soon!”Hatter Fayre’s face grew a shade pinker than usual.“I’ll come with pleasure, on one condition,” he said.His voice seemed suddenly to have grown curiously hoarse and unmanageable.“You can make any conditions you like, so long as you come,” was Cynthia’s cheerful rejoinder. “You don’t want to bring that horrid old bicycle with you, do you?” she finished, struck by a sudden suspicion.Fayre shook his head.“I’ve finished with that old friend for the present. No, I want to bring something quite different. By the way, I’ve been busy with the stables.”“Hunters?”“Yes, when I’ve finished my alterations. The stabling’s too inadequate for my needs and there’s a good deal to be done.”“Do you propose to travel with a couple of mounts? If so, John will have to put them up in the barn. After all, though, it’s only July now and we expect you long before the winter—or do you take them about as pets in the off season? Is that your condition?”“Oh, no. I’m not bringing any livestock—at least, not of that kind. …”“Well, I’m blessed!” ejaculated his companion suddenly and indignantly.Then, as Fayre cast a helpless glance in her direction and began to flounder hopelessly, she took the matter firmly out of his hands.“Livestock indeed!” she exclaimed. “The man’s impossible! What he’s trying to do, my dear, is to ask if he may bring his wife. And why he’s behaving like a self-conscious schoolboy over it, heaven only knows!”In spite of her brave words she was blushing vividly.Cynthia fell on her neck.“Oh, you darlings!” she exclaimed. “You haven’t really done it! You and Miss Allen! Now I know I am going to wake up and find it’s all a dream. It’s too perfect to be true!”“Not Miss Allen, but Mrs. Fayre!” he corrected, with immense satisfaction. “We stole off all by ourselves and did it yesterday. And we’re not a bit ashamed of ourselves, either, thank you.”The End

On one of those perfect July days which are occasionally vouchsafed to the inhabitants of the British Isles Cynthia Bell and John Leslie were married.

They had chosen an old church, tucked away in an unfashionable corner of South London, as the scene of their wedding and had asked to the ceremony only those whose friendship they really valued.

Lady Galston had flatly refused to sanction the marriage or to be present at it, but Cynthia’s father had, once more, asserted himself and had brought his daughter to London and insisted on giving her away himself.

“A good thing Lady Galston has taken that line,” was the comment of that other woman who had mothered Cynthia so efficiently in her time of trouble, as she and Hatter Fayre drove together from the church to the Staveleys’ house in Eaton Square which they had insisted on lending for the occasion.

“She’s never been an atom of good to that child since the day she was born and, in her present mood, she’d cast a blight over a Bacchanalian orgy!”

They found Cynthia and Leslie in the hall on their arrival and it certainly did not seem as if Lady Galston’s antagonism had served to dim the girl’s radiance on this, the happiest day of her life.

She stood, her arm through Leslie’s, talking to old Mrs. Doggett and surrounded by a shy, beaming crowd of Galston retainers who had come of their own accord all the way from Cumberland to see her married. Fayre, looking round, recognized the Gunnets and, with them, his own special protégé, Albert Small, late tramp, now boot-boy, dog-washer, bicycle-cleaner, etc., at Fayre’s newly acquired cottage in Surrey. He was resplendent in an old suit of his master’s and looked a very different being from the furtive and defiant tatterdemalion who had slept in John Leslie’s barn on the fatal night of March 23rd.

At the sight of Fayre and his companion, Cynthia gave a little cry of pleasure and came forward eagerly to greet them.

“It’s all much too wonderful to be true!” she said. “Even now, I feel as if I may wake up at any minute!”

“It’s wonderful. But it’s not my idea of a quiet wedding,” gibed Fayre, looking round the crowded hall. “The whole village of Keys and all the tenants seem to have migrated from the North to wish you luck!”

“Aren’t they pets? It never occurred to me that they would dream of coming so far, but Father received a sort of deputation, headed by Gunnet, to ask if they might be present. Gunnet said that, after what had happened, he’d take it as a kindness if he might be allowed to attend! They’re all going back by the night train. There are some old friends waiting to see you upstairs. Even Dr. Gregg has turned up. I asked him, though I didn’t think it was much in his line, and he said that, as he’dbein London anyhow on business, he’d be very pleased to look in. Do go and be kind to him; he looks so miserable and he’s already been quite rude to Father, just to show that he isn’t shy!”

“I’m glad you’re not going too far away from them all,” said Fayre. “Bill tells me that the farm is finished. It sounds charming.”

Leslie had resigned his tenancy of the farm near Galston and built a comfortable, roomy house on some farm-land on the Staveley estate. After what had happened he had not cared to take Cynthia to the ill-fated house up the lane nor had he wished to settle down in the immediate vicinity of his mother-in-law. The Staveleys had been glad to have Cynthia as a neighbour and, Fayre suspected, had done a good deal towards giving Leslie a good start in his venture.

“It’s lovely and the land’s gorgeous. John’s simply delighted. You’re going to be our first guest, Uncle Fayre. Promise you’ll come soon!”

Hatter Fayre’s face grew a shade pinker than usual.

“I’ll come with pleasure, on one condition,” he said.

His voice seemed suddenly to have grown curiously hoarse and unmanageable.

“You can make any conditions you like, so long as you come,” was Cynthia’s cheerful rejoinder. “You don’t want to bring that horrid old bicycle with you, do you?” she finished, struck by a sudden suspicion.

Fayre shook his head.

“I’ve finished with that old friend for the present. No, I want to bring something quite different. By the way, I’ve been busy with the stables.”

“Hunters?”

“Yes, when I’ve finished my alterations. The stabling’s too inadequate for my needs and there’s a good deal to be done.”

“Do you propose to travel with a couple of mounts? If so, John will have to put them up in the barn. After all, though, it’s only July now and we expect you long before the winter—or do you take them about as pets in the off season? Is that your condition?”

“Oh, no. I’m not bringing any livestock—at least, not of that kind. …”

“Well, I’m blessed!” ejaculated his companion suddenly and indignantly.

Then, as Fayre cast a helpless glance in her direction and began to flounder hopelessly, she took the matter firmly out of his hands.

“Livestock indeed!” she exclaimed. “The man’s impossible! What he’s trying to do, my dear, is to ask if he may bring his wife. And why he’s behaving like a self-conscious schoolboy over it, heaven only knows!”

In spite of her brave words she was blushing vividly.

Cynthia fell on her neck.

“Oh, you darlings!” she exclaimed. “You haven’t really done it! You and Miss Allen! Now I know I am going to wake up and find it’s all a dream. It’s too perfect to be true!”

“Not Miss Allen, but Mrs. Fayre!” he corrected, with immense satisfaction. “We stole off all by ourselves and did it yesterday. And we’re not a bit ashamed of ourselves, either, thank you.”

The End

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