THE PROPHET JOURNEYS TO THE MOUSE
Mrs.Merillia was just beginning to recover from the prostration of the preceding day when the Prophet came into the room where she was seated with Mrs.Fancy Quinglet.She looked up at him almost brightly, but started when she saw how agitated he seemed.
"Grannie," said the Prophet, abruptly, "you would tell me anything, wouldn't you?""Why, of course, my dear boy.But what about?""About--about yourself?"
Mrs.Merillia looked very much astonished.
"There is nothing to hide, Hennessey," she said with gentle dignity.
"You know that."
"I do, I do," cried the Prophet, passionately."Yours has been the best, the sweetest life the world has ever known!""Well, I don't wish to imply--"
"But I do, grannie, I do.Can Fancy leave us for a moment?""Certainly.Fancy, you can go to your tatting.""Yes, ma'am."
"Mr Hennessey has something to explain to me.""Oh, ma'am, the houses that have been broke up by explainings!"And with this, as the Prophet thought, appallingly appropriate exclamation, Mrs.Fancy hurried feverishly from the room.
"Now what is the question you wish to ask me, Hennessey?" said Mrs.
Merillia, with a soft dignity.
"There are--one moment--there are eight questions, grannie," responded the Prophet, shrinking visibly before the dread necessity by which he found himself confronted.
"Eight! So many?"
"Yes, oh, indeed, yes."
"Well, my dear, and what are they?"
"The first is--is--grannie, when were you removed from--from the bottle?"A very delicate flush crept into Mrs.Merillia's charming cheeks.
"The bottle, Hennessey! Never, never!" she said, with a sort of pathetic indignation."How could you suppose--I--the bottle--"Her pretty old voice died away.
"Answered, darling grannie, answered!" ejaculated the Prophet.
Please--please don't!" And now--your first tooth?""My first what!" cried Mrs.Merillia in almost terrified amazement.
"Tooth--when did you cut it?"
"I have no idea.Surely, Hennessey--"
"Answered, dearest grannie!" cried the Prophet, with gathering agitation."Did you ever wear a short coat?""I--I'm not a man!"
"You didn't! Always a skirt?"
"Of course! Why--"
"And you're sixty-eight on the twentieth.So for sixty-eight years you've always worn a skirt.That's four.""Four what? Are you--?"
"When did you put your hair up, grannie, darling?""My hair--never.You know I've always had a maid to do these things for me.Fancy--""Of course.You've never put your hair up.I might have known.You were married very young, weren't you?""Ah, yes.On my seventeenth birthday, and was left a widow in exactly two years' time.Your poor dear granf--""Thank you, grannie, thank you! Seven!"
"Seven what, Hennessey? One would th--"
"And now, dear grannie, tell me one thing, only one little thing more.
About--that is, talking of rashes--"
"Rashers!"
"No, grannie, rashes--illnesses, you know, that take an epidemic form.""Well, what about them? Surely there isn't an epidemic in the square?""How many have you had, grannie?"
"Where? Had what?"
"Here, anywhere in the square, grannie."
"Had what in the square?"
"Rashes."
"I! Have a rash in the square!"
"Exactly.Have you ever--an epidemic, you know?""I have an epidemic in Berkeley Square? You must be crazy, Hennessey!""Probably, very likely, grannie.But have you? Tell me quickly! Have you?""Certainly not! As if any gentlewoman--"
"Answered, grannie, answered! Eight!"
"Eight what?"
"Questions.Thank you, dearest grannie.I knew you'd tell me, I knew you would!"And the Prophet rushed from the room, leaving Mrs.Merillia in a condition that cannot be described and that not all the subsequent ministrations of Mrs.Fancy Quinglet were able to alleviate.
Having reached the hall, the Prophet hastily put on his coat and hat and called Mr.Ferdinand to him.
"Mr.Ferdinand," he said, assuming a fixed and stony dignity to conceal his agitation and dismay, "I am leaving the house at once with the--the lady and gentleman who are in the library."At this description of the kids Mr.Ferdinand was very nearly seized with convulsions.However, as he said nothing and merely wrung his large hands, the Prophet, after a slight pause, continued,--"I may be away some time, so if Mrs.Merillia should make any inquiry, you will say that I have left to pay a visit to some friends.""Yes, sir.Shall I tell Gustavus to pack your things?""Certainly not."
The Prophet was turning towards the library when Mr.Ferdinand added,--"When shall we expect you back, sir? Am I to forward your letters?""No, no.I shall return in a few hours."
"Oh, I beg pardon, sir.And if any telegrams--""There will not be any.I am now going to answer the telegrams in person.""Yes, sir."
"Come along, my children," cried the Prophet, putting his head into the library.
"Not your children, if you please, Mr.Vivian," replied the little boy.
"Corona, come on."
"How do we go, my dears?" asked the Prophet, with an attempt at gaiety, and endeavouring to ignore the prostrated demeanour of Mr.Ferdinand, who was in waiting to open the hall door.
"By the purple 'bus as far as the Pork Butcher's Rest," piped the little boy--(at this point Mr.Ferdinand could not refrain from a slight exclamation)--"then we take the train to the Mouse, Mouse, Mouse.""Mus, Mus, Mus," chanted the little girl.
As Mr.Ferdinand was unable to open the door, paralysis having apparently supervened, the Prophet did so, and the cheerful little party emerged upon the step to find Lady Enid Thistle in the very act of pressing the electric bell.When she beheld the vivacious trio, all agog for their morning's expedition, come thus suddenly upon her, she cried out musically,--"Why, where are you off to?"
The Prophet was much embarrassed by the encounter.
"I am taking these lit"--he caught the staring eye of Capricornus--"these friends of mine for a little walk," he said.
"I'll come with you," said Lady Enid, with an almost Highland decision.
