CORNELL 
 
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 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
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 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
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 Lady Penelope, 
 
 3 1924 013 217 843 
 
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LADY PENELOPE BRADING 
 Who had ideas of her own 
 
H Lady Penelope m 
 
 By 
 
 Morley Roberts 
 
 Wb^ Author of " Rachel Marr," " The Promotion of 
 Wj/V the Admiral," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 Arthur William Brown 
 
 ^k Boston » L. C. Page & 
 
 ny.if 
 
 m. Company ♦ M d c c c c 
 
 9\\ 
 
 V 
 
Copyright, jgo4, igoj 
 
 By L. C. Page & Company 
 
 (incorporated) 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 ^ 
 
 Published February, 1905 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Elecirotyped and Printed 3y C. H. Simonds &* Co* 
 
 Boston^ Meiss.i U»S.A. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lady Penelope Brading .... Frontispiece 
 Who had ideas of her own. 
 
 Captain Plantagenet Goby, V. C, Late of the 
 
 Guards 44 
 
 Who was ordered to read poetry 
 
 Leopold Norfolk Gordon 72 
 
 Some said his real name was Isaac Levi. 
 
 Austin De Vere 86 
 
 He wrote poetry, and abhorred bulldogs and motor-cars. 
 
 The Marquis de Rivaulx 174 
 
 Anti-Semite to his manicured finger-tips. 
 
 RuFus Q. Plant 202 
 
 Bom in Virginia. 
 
 Carteret Williams, War Correspondent . 230 
 
 He wrote with a red picturesqueness which was horribly 
 attractive. 
 
 Jimmy Carew, A. R. A 318 
 
 He was the best looking of the whole " horde " 
 
 The Earl of Pulborough 361 
 
 Clever ; but indolent. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 All the absurd birthday celebrations were over, 
 and Penelope was twenty-one. 
 
 She declared that her whole life was to be de- 
 voted to reform. She meant to reform society, 
 to make it good and useful and straightforward, 
 and simple and utterly delightful. 
 
 She let it be understood that men were in great 
 need of her particular attention. ' They were too 
 selfish and self-centred, too extravagant, too' crit- 
 ical of each other, too vain. They acknowledged 
 it humbly when she mentioned it, for Lady Penelope 
 Brading's beauty was something to see and tO' talk 
 of; major and minor poets agreed about it; artists 
 desired to paint her and failed, as they always do 
 when true loveliness shines on them. She had the 
 colour of a Titian; the contours of a Correggio; 
 the witchery of a Reynolds, and under wonderful 
 
2 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 raiment the muscles of a young Greek athlete. She 
 wiped out any society in which she moved. When 
 sweet Eclipse showed herself, the rest were no- 
 where. The other girls did not exist; she even 
 made married beauties quake; as for the men, they 
 endured everything she said, and worshipped her 
 all the more. She was strange and new and a tonic. 
 She had no sense of humour whatsoever ; she could 
 not understand a joke even if it was explained by 
 an expert on the staff of Punch. This made her 
 utterly delightful. Her beautiful seriousness was 
 as refreshing as logic in a sermon. She believed 
 in clergymen, in politicians, in the Deceased Wife's 
 Sister, in all eminent physicians, in the London 
 County Council, in the City of Westminster, in the 
 British Constitution, in herself, and hygiene. She 
 read the Times, the Athenceum, the Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica, Herbert Spencer, Mr. Kidd, and the 
 late Mr. Drummond. She used Sandow's exercises 
 and cold water. She was opposed to war ; she ad- 
 mired the leader of the opposition and the lord 
 mayor; she subscribed to a society for establishing 
 a. national theatre to play Mr. Bernard Shaw's trag- 
 edies, and to the nearest hospital. She was the 
 most delightful person in England, and was against 
 vaccination. She had money and lands and houses 
 and ideas. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 3 
 
 "We ought all to do something'; to be some^ 
 thing," said Lady Penelope Brading. 
 
 It was an amazing statement, a shocking state- 
 ment, and clean against all class tradition when 
 she interpreted it to the alarmed. Was it not to 
 be something if one was rich, let us say? Was 
 it not to do something if one spent one's money on 
 horses and sport and dress and bridge? Heaven 
 defend us all if anything more is asked of man or 
 woman than killing time and killing beasts ! Hands 
 went up to heaven when Penelope preached. 
 
 Not that she preached at length. Her sermons 
 lasted five seconds by any clock, save at the times 
 when she warmed her ankles by the fire with some 
 pet friend of hers, and took into consideration how 
 she was to use her power for the regeneration of 
 the world which was hers. Now she was with 
 Ethel Mytton, a remote relative of the celebrated 
 Mytton who drank eight bottles of port a day, and 
 was a sportsman of the character which makes all 
 Englishmen prouder of sport than of their history. 
 Ten thousand on a football field would put him 
 higher than Sir Richard Grenville. Sidney was a 
 fool to him. Her father was a cabinet minister. 
 
 But Ethel was meek and mild, and followed 
 Penelope at a humble distance, modelling herself 
 on that sweet mould of revolution. So might a 
 
4 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 penny candle imitate an arc-light; so a glowworm 
 worship the big moon. 
 
 " But you'll get married, dear," said Ethel, " of 
 course you'll get married." 
 
 Penelope was pensive. 
 
 "There are other things than marriage," said 
 Penelope. 
 
 " Oh, are there? " sighed Ethel. She did not 
 think so, for she was in love. Penelope loved the- 
 ories best. 
 
 " Which of them will you marry? " asked Ethel. 
 
 "Which what?" 
 
 " Silly, them," said Ethel. " What the duchess 
 calls your ' horde.' " 
 
 " I don't know," replied Penelope. " I'm like 
 Diogenes, and I'm looking for an honest man." 
 
 " Oh, honesty, — yes, of course, I know what 
 you mean. But there are plenty of them. Pen dear." 
 
 " Boo! " said Pen; " so the other Greeks said to 
 the man in the tub." 
 
 Ethel sighed. 
 
 " What Greeks and what man in what tub ? " she 
 inquired, plaintively. 
 
 And Penelope did not enlighten her darkness, for 
 in came the Duchess of Goring, her aunt, whose 
 Christian name was Titania. She weighed sixteen 
 stone in glittering bead armour, and had a voice 
 
LADY PENELOPE 5 
 
 exactly like Rose Le Clare's in " The Duchess of 
 Bayswater." She rarely stopped talking, and was 
 ridiculously moral and conventional, and, except 
 for her voice, she might have been a shopkeeper's 
 wife in any suburb. 
 
 " My dear Penelope," said Titania, " I'm glad to 
 see you again. You look positively sweet, my 
 darling, after all these parties and carryings-on, and 
 what not, and now at last you are quite grown up 
 and yourself and your own and twenty-one. I wish 
 I was. I was nine stone then exactly, — not a 
 pound more. Oh, and it's you, Ethel. I hope your 
 dear papa is not overworking himself, now he's a 
 cabinet minster. Cabinet ministers will overwork 
 themselves. I've known them die of it. Tell him 
 what I say, will you? But of course he will pay 
 no attention, and in time will die like the rest. 
 It's no use advising men to be sensible. I've given 
 it up. Ah, here at last is Lord Bradstock." 
 
 Titania flowed on wonderfully; she flowed ex- 
 actly like the twisting piece of glass in a mechanical 
 clock which mimics a jet of water. She turned 
 round and never advanced. But Augustin, Lord 
 Bradstock, was as calm as a mill-pond, as a mere 
 in the mountains. He was tall and thin and ruddy 
 and white-haired at fifty. He had been twice a 
 widower. 
 
6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Wky at last, Titania? " he yawned, as he stood 
 with P'enelope's hand in his. He was still her 
 guardian in his heart, though she was out of tute- 
 lage. 
 
 " I say at last, Augustin, because you were not 
 here before me," cried Titania. " And I expected 
 you to be here before me from what you said this 
 morning. I told you I meant to come in and speak 
 quietly and seriously to Penelope, and you said you 
 would come, too." 
 
 Penelope's eyes thanked her guardian, and they 
 smiled at him half-secretly, saying as plain as any 
 words : " What a dear you are to come in and dilute 
 aunty for me! " 
 
 " Yes," said Bradstock, " I think I said I would 
 prepare her." 
 
 " I've not had a single chance lately to say a word 
 for her good," cried Titania, " what with this person 
 and that person and the horde. I think it is time 
 now, Penelope, that you reorganized your amaz- 
 ing circle of acquaintances, mostly men, by the way. 
 While Augustin was responsible for you, of course 
 you were obstinate, but now you are in a position 
 of greater freedom you will see the advisability 
 of being guided by your aunt. I'm sure, I'm posi- 
 tive of it." 
 
 Now the real sore point with the duchess was 
 
LADY PENELOPE 7 
 
 this matter of the " horde." It was the only pic- 
 turesque phrase she ever invented in her hfe, and 
 without any doubt it did characterize in some meas- 
 ure the remarkable collection of men who were 
 pretenders to Penelope's hand and fortune. 
 
 " Out of the entire, the entire — " 
 
 " Caboodle," said Bradstock, suggestively. 
 
 The duchess shook her head like a horse in fly- 
 time. 
 
 " No, Aug^stin, not caboodle; pray, what is ca- 
 boodle? Out of the entire — lot, Penelope, there 
 are hardly three who belong to your class. I en- 
 treat you to go through them and dismiss those 
 of whom we can't approve, I and Lord Bradstock." 
 
 " Don't drag me in," said Bradstock. " They are 
 all very good fellows; I approve of them all." 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Titania, " is this the way you 
 help, Augustin? You are a hindrance. I believe 
 it is entirely owing to you that Penelope has these 
 strange and alarming ideas. Yes, my dear, I'm 
 afraid it is. He is not the kind of man who should 
 have been your guardian. I ought to have been 
 consulted. I knew a bishop who would have been 
 admirable, most admirable. He's dead, dear man, 
 and the present one is a scandal to the Protestant 
 Church, what with incense and processions and can- 
 dles and confession-boxes. But, as I was saying, 
 
8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 I do hope you will dismiss some of these men. And 
 I hope you will be sensible and not say shocking 
 things. No one should say shocking things till they 
 are married, and even then with discretion. Social- 
 ism and reform and marriage ! Dear me, you really 
 must not talk about marriage, but you must get 
 married to a suitable person. I'm sure, Augustin, 
 we should have no insuperable objection to, let 
 us say, young Bramber. He'll be an earl by and 
 by. And you mustn't talk about reforming society, 
 my dear love. It is quite impossible to reform soci- 
 ety without abolishing it, my pet. Ethel darling, 
 many cabinet ministers have owned as much to me 
 with much alarm, almost with tears. It's no use try- 
 ing. Tell your dear father so, Ethel. I forgot to 
 mention it the other day when we discussed the Lon- 
 don County Council and its terrible extravagance 
 compared with the economy of the government. We 
 talked, too, about the War Office, and I told him 
 that it couldn't be reformed without abolishing it, 
 which was not to be thought of for an instant. 
 What should we do without a War Office, as we 
 are always fighting? He sighed deeply, poor man. 
 Dr. Lumsden Griff says sighing is cardiac in its 
 origin, and I wish your father would see him, Ethel. 
 He's the first doctor in London for the ventricles 
 
LADY PENELOPE 9 
 
 of the heart. So every one says. But about your 
 ideas, Penelope — " 
 
 " Good heavens, aunty, I haven't any left," said 
 Penelope. This was not in the least surprising, for 
 Titania reduced any ordinary gathering to idiocy at 
 the shortest notice. 
 
 " Oh, but you have," said Titania, " and society 
 cannot endure ideas, my love. Anything but ideas, 
 darling." 
 
 "Well, well," sighed Bradstock, "what is the 
 use of talking to her, Titania? Pen is Pen, and 
 there's an end of it." 
 
 " I wish there was," cried the duchess. " But 
 she rails against marriage. And she's only twenty- 
 one. Dear, dear me ! " 
 
 " She pays too much attention to you married 
 women," said Bradstock. " How's the duke, by 
 the way?" 
 
 As the duke was engaged in running two the- 
 atres at the same time, not wholly in the interests 
 of art or finance, Bradstock might have asked after 
 his health at some other juncture. Titania ignored 
 him. 
 
 " She rails against marriage," lamented Titania. 
 
 " I don't," said Penelope. 
 
 "You do," said her aunt. 
 
 " It's only the horrible publicity," said Penelope, 
 
lo LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " and the way things are done, and the ghastly 
 presents and the bishops and the newspaper men 
 and the horrible crowd outside and the worse crowd 
 inside, and all the horrid fluff and flummery of it. 
 If I'm ever married, I'll get it done in a registrar's 
 office." 
 
 "Oh, Penelope," wailed Ethel. 
 
 But Titania became terrible. 
 
 " You shall not be, Penelope," she cried. " I 
 could not stand it. As your aunt, my dear — Oh, 
 my love, I knew some one who was married in that 
 way, and it was a most shocking affair, and of 
 course it turned out that he had been married be- 
 fore and was a bigamist. The scandal was hushed 
 up, and the first wife, who was the sweetest girl, 
 and died of consumption shortly afterward at her 
 father's vicarage in Kent or Yorkshire, near Pev- 
 ensey or Pontefract; at any rate it began with 
 a P, and the man, though a villain, was a gentleman, 
 for he married the second one all over again in a 
 foreign place, with a chaplain officiating; much 
 better than a registrar, who can marry you, I'm 
 told, in pajamas if he likes, though not like a bishop, 
 which one might have expected in his case. You 
 all knew him slightly, at any rate. Never, my dear, 
 get married at a registrar's." 
 
 " It's better than the open shame of a cathe'dral 
 
LADY PENELOPE ii 
 
 and a bishop," said Penelope. " Being married 
 is one's private business, and it's nothing but horrid 
 savagery to have crowds there! " 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Bradstock, and Titania turned 
 on him. 
 
 " Did I not say all this was your fault, Augustin ? 
 You were no more fit to be her guardian than you 
 are to be Archbishop of Canterbury. Am I a sav- 
 age, Penelope? and did I not get married in a 
 cathedral, a most beautiful cathedral, all Gothic 
 and newly restored at a vast expense? My dear, 
 I am amazed and horrified and shocked to think that 
 you should not perceive the quite exquisite fitness 
 of being married in a piece of lovely Gothic archi- 
 tecture, to the very loveliest music, breathing over 
 Eden, and so on, while all your dearest frierids shed 
 tears- of purest joy — " 
 
 " To see her got rid of," said BradstockL 
 
 And even Ethel Mjrtton laughed. 
 
 "Augustin! Ethel Mytton! How can you say 
 such things and laugh ? It's wicked ; it's indecent ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Penelope, " that's what I say. 
 There's nothing to choose between your way and 
 the American way the millionaire women have over 
 there, when they hold a flower-show in a gilded 
 room, and get married under a bell of roses at the 
 cost of a hundred thousand dollars. I'd rather be 
 
12 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 knocked down by a nice savage, or run away with 
 by a viking, or caught by a pirate. I won't be 
 breathed over in Eden by a stuffy crowd. If — 
 if — " 
 
 " Oh, if what ? " gasped Titania. 
 
 " If I ever do get married," said Penelope, " I'll 
 never tell any of you beforehand ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the duchess, " you won't 
 tell us?" 
 
 " I won't." 
 
 " You'll let us find out ! Shall I know nothing 
 of the marriage of my brother's child till I read 
 it in the Times? It shall not be! Augustin, does 
 she mean it ? " 
 
 Augustin lighted a cigarette and walked to the 
 window, which looked down on the traffic of Pic- 
 cadilly. 
 
 " I give it up," said Augustin. " When could 
 I answer riddles ? Do you mean it. Pen ? " 
 
 And Penelope, rising up, stood on the hearth- 
 rug and, looking like the descendant of a viking and 
 some fair Venetian, declared that she did mean 
 it. And she further went on to say, in great haste 
 and with a most remarkable flow of words, that 
 it shouldn't be in the Times or any other paper. 
 And she said that if Titania, Duchess of Goring, 
 was her aunt, it couldn't be helped, and that hef 
 
LADY PENELOPE 13 
 
 principles were more to her than any one's approval. 
 Though she loved her aunt and her dear sweet 
 guardian, these same principles were even dearer 
 than they were. And she said that they had no 
 principles (" not even Guardy dear "), and that they 
 only thought of a demon thing called Society, which 
 was at once a fetich and a phantom. And she be- 
 came so excited that she talked like a real woman 
 orator upon a platform, and expressed her inten- 
 tion of using her influence to bring about reform, 
 especially in such matters and with regard to young 
 men who did nothing, and seemed to think they 
 had been created for that very purpose. And, as 
 she talked, there wasn't a man in the world who 
 would not have yearned to take his coat off and 
 ask for a pick and shovel at the least, for she was 
 as beautiful as any young goddess fresh from Gre- 
 cian foam or from high Olympus. Even Bradstock 
 sighed to think that he had never done anjrthing 
 for the human race, which required so much help, 
 but sit in the Upper House, a speechless phantom. 
 And Ethel Mytton cried with an imparted enthusi- 
 asm, while the duchess wept with horror. 
 
 " And more than that," said Penelope, who broke 
 down in her eloquence and resorted to the tone of 
 conversation, " more than that, I'll never, never 
 
14 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 let you know whom I marry! I mean it! That 
 
 — that's flat!" 
 
 And after this damp but awful peroration, she 
 sat down with heaving bosom, and poor, bewildered 
 Titania shook her head till it looked as if it would 
 come off. She found no flow of words to oppose 
 Penelope with. The biggest river is nothing when 
 it flows into the sea, and, if Titania was the Ama- 
 zon, Pen was the South Atlantic. 
 
 "Not who he is?" saiJ the duchess, as feebly 
 as if she were no more than a brook in a meadow. 
 
 " I will not," said Penelope, like a sea in a cy- 
 clone. 
 
 " Not — Oh, I must go home," piped Titania, 
 " Augustin, she's capable of marrying a chauffeur, 
 because he can drive at sixty miles an hour, — or 
 
 — or a groom ! " 
 
 " I'd rather marry either or both," said Pen, 
 furiously, " than be mobbed and musicked into 
 matrimony with a grinning crowd of idiots looking 
 on." 
 
 " This is immoral," said Titania, " it's very im- 
 moral; you couldn't marry both. I'll go home, 
 Bradstock." 
 
 And Bradstock took her there. 
 
 " You've done it, Titania," he said, as they drove. 
 " She's as obstinate and as violent as a passive 
 
LADY PENELOPE 15 
 
 resister. You've put her bristles up, and Pen never 
 goes back from what she says." 
 
 " You. are very Hke a man, Augustin," sobbed 
 the duchess. 
 
 " She's more Hke a woman than I'm hke a man," 
 growled Bradstock. 
 
 He had never risen toi eminence, and only once 
 to his feet in the Upper House, and sometimes this 
 rankled. 
 
 " Yes, I mean it, I mean it," said Penelope. 
 
 " And I wanted to be your bridesmaid," sobbed 
 Ethel. 
 
 " You never will be, and you can tell every one 
 what I say." 
 
 " I won't," said Ethel, " I won't." 
 
 And she went away and told them. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 In spite of what good conventional people said, 
 there was nothing abnormal in Penelope's character. 
 The walking world appears abnormal to an insti- 
 tute for cripples; good going is an absurdity, and 
 as for running — The truth is that Penelope, by 
 some unimaginable freak of fortune, had been bom 
 quite sound and sane, barring her one lack, that 
 of humour. The providential death of her parents 
 at an early age saved her from a deal of teaching. 
 Bradstock saved her from a great deal more, and 
 she saw to the rest. It pleased Augustin, Lord 
 Bradstock, to play with gunpowder, in spite of what 
 he said about dynamite. He encouraged her to 
 trust to herself in a way that every well-regulated 
 woman considered highly dangerous, and he used 
 to enrage her in order to hear what she had to say 
 to him. There was a period in which she swore 
 vigorously. She learnt her language from an old 
 stableman, who adored her even more than he did 
 any horse. This was at the age of three. Her first 
 
 i6 
 
LADY PENELOPE 17 
 
 interview with her aunt, the Duchess of Goring, 
 was positively so shocking to Titania, who was 
 mid- Victorian, and never got over it, that the poor 
 thing almost fainted when Penelope, a shining brat 
 of three, damned her eyes with terrific vigour. Gror- 
 ing, who was that very curious and absurd survival 
 of a thousand ages, known as a sportsman, roared 
 with laughter. There was humanity in him. There 
 was none in Titania, though there might have been 
 if she had married any one but a duke. And Penel- 
 ope damned her eyes for saying she mustn't go 
 to the stables without a retinue, an escort, a body- 
 guard of footmen and nurses and governesses. 
 
 " I haven't a govemeth now," lisped Penelope. 
 "I thacked the latht one, didn't I, Bradstock?" 
 
 Lady Bradstock, number two, was then reigning 
 without governing as far as Bradstock was con- 
 cerned, and governing without reigning as far as 
 another was concerned, and she paid no attention 
 to Penelope, except to encourage her to amuse her 
 guardian. Thus Penelope grew like a tree in the 
 open, and there were no Dutch gardeners to clip 
 her. At fifteen she greeted her last governess, a 
 lady of great learning and no ability, with the news 
 that she had had her luggage got ready, and that 
 there was the carriage at the door for her. There 
 is no defending such conduct. Pen never defended 
 
i8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 it herself in later years. She acknowledged she had 
 been a brute to Miss Mackamess, and gave her 
 a position as housekeeper in one of her own houses, 
 that she never visited, with permission to receive 
 the shillings some visitors paid to see a mansion 
 like a sarcophagus, with one treasure of a Turner 
 in it. 
 
 The trouble was that Penelope was natural. She 
 had not been trained to become so; she grew so. 
 There is no more painful and laborious a process 
 than to learn to be natural in later life. But to 
 grow like it! Ah, that was splendid, and many 
 unthinking people laughed to hear Pen when she 
 swore, or cried, or begged for pardon, or dominated 
 the whole little world around her. The world in- 
 deed smiled on Pen, and now she was twenty-one 
 and splendid, mobile, gracious, Venetian, strong, 
 and as rich as an American heiress, and she already 
 had as many wooers as Penelope of old. But the 
 little bow of Cupid was too much for them. Or 
 her defence was too good. And now these strange 
 notions grew up in her. There was some natural 
 shame in her heart that the crowd of duchesses and 
 what not could not understand. When He came 
 at last, riding gallantly, a brave male, virile, strong, 
 and bold, armed in shining armour, should she lead 
 him out into Piccadilly, investing him in a frock 
 
LADY PENELOPE 19 
 
 coat for his armour and a cylinder for his helmet, 
 and marry him in a crowd, while a paid organist 
 played something about Eden? Oh, where was 
 Eden? 
 
 Here's romance then, and in a new guise in a 
 young woman. For the true romantic age is the 
 age of feminine desperation. When one has been 
 "taught" all one's best years, it's hard to be ro- 
 mantic till one wears through one's fetters at the 
 very foot of the scaffold, when it's too late. How 
 many sweet women sour in cream- jugs, and escape 
 the cat, or some roaring lion, for nothing but sour- 
 est contemplation. They crowd feminine churches. 
 
 Pen's brother, or, rather, half-brother, was ten 
 years her senior, and played a suitable part in the 
 orchestra of the House of Lords as Lord Brading. 
 He voted for the government when it was conserva- 
 tive, and against it when it was liberal with perfect 
 certainty and good-will. There was nothing re- 
 markable about Brading but the strange, almost 
 awestruck admiration with which he worshipped 
 Penelope. A man even of the most absurd con- 
 servative solidity must be a radical and an anar- 
 chist somewhere, and indeed he pretended to be 
 something of a socialist. Nevertheless, he had 
 humour. Brading thought his half-sister a wonder, 
 and had no criticism for her. Indeed it is believed 
 
20 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 that he helped the groom mentioned above to teach 
 her unrefinements of the English language peculiarly 
 shocking to early and mid Victorians. But in his 
 heart " Bill " Brading considered Pen's mother ac- 
 counted for, excused everything. The last Lady 
 Brading was an American who wallowed in money, 
 which she invested in repairing her husband's char- 
 acter and his castles. When he died, and nothing 
 could be done for his character but suppress biog- 
 raphers, she invested in ancient demesnes on Pen's 
 behalf, and bought her rat-riddled and ghost- 
 haunted mansions of historic character till there 
 were few (and among them Penelope could not 
 be counted) who could tell how many of them she 
 owned. Then Lady Brading went to a newer world 
 than the United States, alid left Pen to the care 
 of Augustin, Lord Bradstock, a man of brains and 
 no voice when on his legs. It is reported that he 
 learnt a speech of his own composing by heart, and 
 when he rose to deliver it all he said was, " Good 
 God," in an astonished whisper, and collapsed, 
 struck by a form of paralysis which rarely attacks 
 fools and which bores cannot suffer from. 
 
 Penelope was richer than her half-brother, for 
 her mother, having paid her husba.nd's debts, rebuilt 
 Brading House, and saved his life from being writ- 
 ten after a very quiet and gentlemanly departure, 
 
LADY PENELOPE 21 
 
 considered she had done her duty to the family. 
 She left her stepson five thousand pounds, it is true, 
 and, with a want of ostentation not peculiarly Amer- 
 ican, she left another five to Penelope, and modestly 
 made her residuary legatee. The residue was con- 
 siderably over a million dollars. And then there 
 were the houses, most of them ineligible properties 
 in ring-fences, jit for immediate occupation after 
 they had been restored. For poor Lady Brading 
 had a passion for ruins, and collected castles as some 
 do bric-a-brac. The two great griefs of her life 
 were that she could not buy Haddon Hall and 
 Arundel Castle. 
 
 Well, there is the situation plainly outlined. Pen 
 was as savage as Pocahontas, so some said, and 
 she could, an she liked, wallow in money. She 
 owned property all over England, to say nothing 
 of a chateau near Tours, a palazzo in Venice, and 
 a building in New York which broi:ight in more 
 than the rest cost to keep up. She had a brother, 
 a peer with a voice, a guardian a peer without one, 
 an aunt who was a duchess, and strange ideas of 
 her own which got up and talked on the most un- 
 suitable occasions. 
 
 But then there was her beauty as clamant as a 
 rose of fire, as sweet as violet or verbena! The 
 rose can be gilded it seems, like a lily, and the gold 
 
22 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 was a power to her, giving authority over men'. 
 She who had enough to command the work of many 
 thousands at current wages (for this is money 
 truly) commanded that strange respect for power 
 as well as love for herself. Her lovers were num^ 
 berless, so people said, and there was this truth in 
 their being beyond arithmetic that no one troubled 
 to count them. Marriageable beauties of a lesser 
 order of loveliness prayed for her extinction in 
 matrimony. Mothers of the marriageable prayed 
 for it with a fervour only equalled by the fervour 
 of her hopeless lovers, if there can be fervour with- 
 out hope. It is the command of true beauty that 
 it can. Had not all the painters, all the sculptors, 
 from Pheidias down to the unselected classics of 
 our own time, met together when she rose, a newer 
 Aphrodite from the sea of the unknown! Her 
 loveliness was sweet and intolerable; one ached 
 at it. Cowards shrank from it. Brave men cried 
 for her. There are strange tales ! 
 
 What a strange motley gathering she selected. 
 They had one thing in common, to be discovered 
 shortly, one would think. She discovered their 
 qualities by inspection. Many would-bes she drove 
 away overcliff. She knew men of many classes 
 adored her, wondering and humble. One great 
 lover of hers, who was very good to horses, and 
 
LADY PENELOPE 2^ 
 
 only reasonably bitter against motor-cars, was her 
 groom, Timothy Bunting. He didn't know he loved 
 her. Indeed, he imagined he loved her maid. But 
 there is this quality in a great love, that it asks all 
 or nothing. Tim was perhaps as great as the great- 
 est, but he rode behind her evai when the Marquis 
 de Rivaulx or Rufus Q. Plant rode alongside her 
 with a quiet and unjealous mind. There was much 
 in Timothy, as much or more than there was in 
 the French marquis, who rode " well enough," as 
 Tim' said, or as in Plant, who rode " all over 'is 
 'orse," as became one bred in Arizona. These must 
 show themselves by and by. They had the quality, 
 at any rate. Even Tim knew it. 
 
 But what was it that gave permission to^ Mr. 
 Austin de Vere to join the throng? He wrote 
 poetry. He followed her as close as a rhyme in 
 a couplet. He never wrote her any, for which she 
 was pleased to be flatteringly thankful. There are 
 some things that cannot be set down in verse even 
 by the greatest, and the poet De Vere acknowledged 
 this humbly. He had the character of being' the 
 most conceited and immitigable ass in England, 
 and when he was with Penelope he was as humble 
 as a puppy in leash. There was something great 
 in his mighty subjection. Not even' Goby, late 
 of the Guards, was so mitigable and so mitigated 
 
24 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 when Petii was by. And Goby's V. C. was almost 
 as much valued by him as 'his clothes and boots. 
 He gained it by a fit of angry rage, such as had 
 led himi to pay several sovereigns at a desk in a 
 back office at a police-station, and came out of his 
 temper to discover he was a hero. So much for 
 luck when a big man, with the quality arid temper 
 of a bull, gets into a row in a sangar without any 
 police to stay his hand. 
 
 " As for that De Vere," said Goby, " why, I 
 could crush him with one hand." 
 
 " And he could make you sore with a few words," 
 said Penelope. 
 
 " He couldn't," bragged Goby. 
 
 Penelope smiled. 
 
 " No, perhaps he couldn't," she said, pensively, 
 arid Goby was pleased with her opinion of his bull's 
 hide. Europa had at any rate scratched him. He 
 indicated the sea of matrimony with inarticulate 
 bellows. But of course he was really quite possible. 
 As Chloe CadwaJlader said, his boots were inspira- 
 tion, polished, and his Christian name was Plan- 
 tagenet. He had some obscure right to it. 
 
 Then there was Lord Bramber. Some folks said 
 if she married any one, she would marry Bramber, 
 because his father was the Earl of Pulborough. 
 They forgot all the rest of the aristocratic mob. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 25 
 
 If any title pleased her democratic soul, she could 
 pick strawberries. One senile and one merely silly 
 duke pursued her panting. But she certainly liked 
 Bramber, and showed her partiality for him or 'her 
 unpartiality with frankness. She had hopes of him', 
 though he appeared hopeless now at the age of 
 twenty-seven. She maintained that men were half 
 their age and women twice it, at the least. 
 
 " Dear Titania is ninety," said Penelope, " and 
 Guardy is twenty-five. Lord Bramber will perhaps 
 think of doing some work when he is fifteen." 
 
 There came with these, with and not after, Jimmy 
 Carew, who was an A. R. A. He painted portraits, 
 and talked about art with eloquence till no one, 
 even' an artist, couJd guess what he meant. But 
 he believed things with such faith that many of his 
 fair sitters agreed with him. He was the best look- 
 ing of the whole " horde," as Titania called Pen's 
 adorers. 
 
 The " horde " included Leopold Norfolk Gordon', 
 who had a house in Park Lane and ever so many 
 p«>ple's money to keep it up with. As may be 
 guessed from his name, he was a Jew. Several 
 people, with whom he could not share the money 
 he had acquired by unsullied dishonesty, said his 
 real name was Isaac Levi. Goby, who hated him 
 
26 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 bitterly, consoled him when a less successful Israel- 
 ite called him " Ikey," at Ascot, by saying : 
 
 " It's damned hard lines, Gordon. A man may 
 be born in Whitechapel without being a Jew." 
 
 So near may insolence come to wit. When this 
 was pointed out to Goby, he told the story every- 
 where with many chuckles. But it was impossible 
 to deny certain attributes to poor Grordon, whether 
 his name was Levi or Moses, or Ehrenbredtstein, 
 for that matter. Penelope had no racial prejudices, 
 and anti-Semitism was unnatural and abhorrent to 
 her. She said things about negroes to Rufus Q. 
 Plant (bom in Virginia) which made bis flesh 
 creep almost as badly as if he had been bom in 
 Delaware. So' in spite of Gordon's looking some- 
 what Semitic, she asserted there were the qualities 
 she required' in the poor man, who indeed was not 
 bumptious or loud or peculiarly offensive in her 
 presence. He that stole millions feared a girl. He 
 polished his last week's hat with' trembling hands, 
 that had signed death-warrants in the; city, when 
 he spoke with her. :^ 
 
 And to round off the " horde " with another sann- 
 ple, there came in Carteret Williams. He was the 
 biggest of the lot, and had a voice like a toast- 
 master's, or that of the man who announces the 
 train at Zurich. It is worth going there to hear 
 
LADY PENELOPE 27 
 
 him, by the way. Many g^oodi Americans travd for 
 less. Wilhams was a writer, a joumaHst, a war- 
 correspondent, or, as he said, a " battle vulture." 
 When he could dip his pen in blood, he wrote with 
 a red picturesqueness which was horribly attract- 
 ive. He belonged to a very decent family, and took 
 to his present trade by nature. That gives some 
 hint of why Penelope liked him. 
 
 What was the secret, then, the secret that brought 
 young Bramber, and Rufus Quintus Plant, and 
 " Ikey Levi," alias Leopold Norfolk Gordon, and 
 Captain Plantagenet Goby, and the verse-making 
 De Vere, together with the Marquis de Rivaulx and 
 Jimmy Carew, under one table-cloth, so to speak, 
 at the Tattenham Comer of wooing? Some said 
 Penelope wouldn't have anything to do with any 
 one who was not a Man. It is true she abhorred 
 those who were not men; but so much depends 
 upon a definition. In the West (and the East, 
 for that matter) a Man goes for what he is worth, 
 and is common currency, as he should be, and a 
 " White Man " is the gold. To be called a White 
 Man is the true compliment, and implies, — well, 
 it implies what the " horde " implied. They were 
 men and Man, and " White," so Penelope said 
 when she had picked up the picturesque figure from 
 Rufus Q. Plant. They might be asses (and some 
 
28 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 were, or at least mules), but they meant to run 
 straight. They were lazy, or some were, but the 
 laziest lay under the delusion that laziness was their 
 godlike duty. They needed the spur. They might 
 be brutes in the way of business (you should read 
 what has been written in a New York paper about 
 Plant, or hear what a certain disembowelled set 
 in the city say of Gordon, who turned them inside 
 out), but they played the game. They knew what 
 cricket was, even when it was played with red-hot 
 shot, and not to carry one's bat meant blue ruin. 
 After saying that they were all this, which implies 
 they were men of honour, each according to the 
 code of their fellows (for this is honour), I shall 
 show you how they came, or how many of them 
 came, to utter grief in curious ways under very 
 odd stresses. What can a man of honour do in 
 an entirely new position, one not provided for in 
 any code? It would puzzle a jury of archangels to 
 say. 
 
 " Have you heard ? " asked Goby, with' wonder- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " What she says ? " replied Gordon. 
 
 " Shade of Titian ! " cried Jimmy Carew. 
 
 " Well, I'm damned ! " said Carteret Williams. 
 
 " This is romance," sighed the De Vere. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 29 
 
 " I'm — I'm — that's what I am," whistled Rufus 
 Q. Plant. 
 
 " Imphm ! " murmured Lord Bramber. 
 
 " Sapristi ! " shrieked the French marquis. 
 
 Wasn't it enough to make them exclaim when it 
 was reported all over London, and in the country, 
 and in papers and cables to New York that Penel- 
 ope Brading had sworn, with a great oath, that 
 she meant to upset the holy apple-cart of all tradi- 
 tion (at least since Adam) by never letting any one 
 know who her husband was! They knew her, and 
 knew her vvord was sacred. Now let all unwhite 
 men, all unrealities, all ghosts, all vain folks vanish 
 one by one. 
 
 With one voice the " horde " exclaimed, as they 
 set their teeth: 
 
 "Well, we don't care!" 
 
 What does this say for Penelope's faculties of 
 distinguishing men from monkeys, and white from 
 gray? 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 All that happened now only shows one how the 
 greatest sense of modesty may end in the biggest 
 advertisement. Penelope, though determined to do 
 her duty, which was mainly to educate mankind, 
 meant doing it unobtrusively, and there was not a 
 man or woman in the British Isles or in the United 
 States who did not hear of her quiet intention. The 
 cables hummed with Penelope's name; it was whis- 
 pered in the great deeps of the sea ; wireless teleg- 
 raphists caught Lady Penelope Brading out of 
 Hertzian waves; ships ploughed the ocean laden 
 with Penelope and copy about her. 
 
 In two twos the notoriety hunters in London sank 
 into insignificance ; professional beauties were neg- 
 lected, and the sale of their photographs fell off. 
 There was an immense demand for Penelope's, 
 which, luckily, no one could satisfy until an enter- 
 prising New Yorker flooded the United States with 
 portraits. Before it was found out that this par- 
 ticular photograph was one of a young actress 
 
 3° 
 
LADY PENELOPE 31 
 
 whom he proposed introducing to the public shortly, 
 he sold amazing quantities of them. When there 
 was one in every inquiring household from Hud- 
 son Bay to the Gulf of Mexico, the real sitter for 
 it wrote to the papers and complained bitterly. She 
 is now playing to crowded houses. There are many 
 paths to fame. 
 
 Poor Pen was at first horribly shocked. She was 
 young. And yet she was human. She said : " Oh, 
 dear, oh, dear ! " and, swearing that she would 
 never read a word about herself, she subscribed to 
 a newspaper cutting agency. 
 
 From the New York papers alone one could cull 
 a highly coloured account of her whole history. 
 And they gave Bradstock's history, too, not omit- 
 ting his two-word exclamatory speech in the House 
 of Lords. Bradstock stood it like a Trojan, like a 
 Spartan. He never turned a hair even when they 
 said that he was going to marry Penelope himself. 
 They gave a full biography of Titania, with a real 
 photograph. When the duchess saw it, she was 
 silent for full five minutes, such was the shock it 
 gave her. Then she talked for five hours, and 
 called on the American ambassador. 
 
 " Cannot you do anything for me? " asked Ti- 
 tania, perorating. 
 
 "I'm afraid not, your Grace," said the ambas- 
 
32 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 sador, wearily. He said it was an awful thing to 
 be an ambassador sometimes, though it had its 
 points. 
 
 Being discomfited for once by an ambassador, 
 she turned on Bradstock, and rent him limb from 
 limb. And then she went to Penelope. 
 
 " I'm only doing my duty," said Penelope, with 
 her beautiful lips as firm as Grecian marble. 
 
 " Your duty ! " shrieked the duchess ; " and look 
 at the papers ! " 
 
 " I can't help what they say, aunt. One's 
 duty — " 
 
 " They tell my weight," said Titania. " How 
 did they know ? " 
 
 " They must have guessed it," said Penelope. 
 
 " I don't look it," pleaded the duchess, now sud- 
 denly plaintive. 
 
 "No, no, dear auntie, you don't," said poor 
 Penelope. " Oh, it's cruel of them." 
 
 " Help me, then," said Titania. " Get married 
 at once in a cathedral, and all this will stop. I'll 
 ask the dear archbishop to oiBciate, Penelope. Oh, 
 my darling ! " 
 
 But Penelope became Pentelican marble again; 
 she froze into a severe goddess, and she saw Titania 
 weep. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 33 
 
 ■" It's scandalous ! Oh, arid they have a list of 
 them all," said Titania. 
 
 Indeed, the New York Dustman had the " horde " 
 set out in a row like the entries for the Derby. 
 They said the betting was on Rufus Q. Plant, of 
 course. They gave a short and succulent biography 
 of them all. They headed the list " The Lady Pe- 
 nelope Handicap." They used some slang about 
 " weight for age." 
 
 " Great heavens ! " said Titania, " all town is 
 ringing with it. If this is the result of looking on 
 marriage as one's private business, give me pub- 
 licity!" 
 
 There would have been less of it if a prince had 
 married a publican's daughter in St. Paul's, and 
 had presented the dean with a set of pewter pots. 
 
 " And if she does what she says ! " 
 
 The only men who did not talk much about 
 Penelope were naturally those who aspired to win 
 her. Every one neglected politics and sport to dis- 
 cuss her. She became politics and sport. Huge 
 sums of money were at stake as to whether she 
 would keep her word ; as to the length of time she 
 would keep the secret, and as to who the man was 
 to be. There were public and private books made 
 on the series of events. And there was a Penelope 
 party and an opposition. Many young people who 
 
34 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 were revolutionary in their sentiments said she was 
 right. There was a Penelope Cave in the House 
 of Commons. Some of those who fought year in 
 and year out for the Deceased Wife's Sister backed 
 her up. It was whispered that the prince was a 
 Penelopian; two princesses threatened with objec- 
 tionable persons of the royal blood were heard to 
 observe that there was something in what she said. 
 Penelope was within measurable distance of becom- 
 ing a national, or even an international, question. 
 Mrs. X. wrote an article in the Fortnightly on 
 " Secret Marriage in History." Mr. Z. sat down 
 and wrote a novel, bristling with " wit and epi- 
 gram," in ten days, which ran into the third edition 
 of two hundred and fifty copies in thirty. It was 
 said that questions were to be asked in the House. 
 A play on the subject was forbidden by the lord 
 chamberlain. The wittiest article on the subject 
 was written by a Mr. Shaw. He argued that no 
 really beautiful woman had any right to be mar- 
 ried at all. He said plaintively that it wasn't fair, 
 and convinced the ugly in two syllogisms. 
 
 And, as the result of this, Penelope went away 
 into the country, though it was May, with Ethel 
 Mytton and Mrs. Cadwallader, who was called 
 Chloe, and stood by Pen remorselessly in every 
 difficulty. For Pen had helped her out of an awful 
 
LADY PENELOPE 35 
 
 mess, the history of which would make a whole 
 story of itself. As a result of it, Cadwallader was 
 in the Rocky Mountains shooting, and a certain 
 young soldier was taking too much liquor and too 
 little quinine in Nigeria, and Chloe got her dia- 
 monds back from Messrs. Attenborough, and was 
 eternally grateful to Penelope in consequence. 
 
 "And I shall send for them one by one," said 
 Penelope. " They can come down by the ten 
 o'clock train from Paddington, and go back by the 
 five o'clock one from here. And after lunch I shall 
 explain my ideas to them." 
 
 " And I'll be with you," said Chloe, who was 
 as dark-locked as a raven's wing. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind," said Penelope; "of course 
 you will. I'm too young, am I not, to be left alone, 
 Chloe? Is it true, Chloe, that the older a woman 
 gets the bigger fool she is ? " 
 
 Chloe said it was true. 
 
 " I'll ask Titania to let Bob come over," said 
 Penelope. " He's the wisest person I know." 
 
 Bob was Titania's grandson, and was certainly 
 young enough to be wise, as he vias only fourteen. 
 He had been sent to three of the great public 
 schools, and had been taken away because of his 
 fighting capabilities. He never knew when he had 
 enough, and it is quite impossible to keep a boy 
 
36 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 at any school if he breaks out of bounds to fight 
 some young butcher or baker in a back alley at least 
 once a week. Now he had a tutor who had been 
 an amateur boxer of great merit. It began to take 
 the tutor all his time to handle his pupil. But if 
 Bob was knocked endways about three times a week, 
 it sobered him and made him do his work. He did 
 not yet know whether he wanted to be a prize- 
 fighter or the commander-in-chief. But he loved 
 Penelope. 
 
 " I'll send for Bob," said Penelope. 
 
 And Bob came with Mr. Guthrie, his tutor, and 
 Titania was glad to get rid of him for a time. 
 
 " Oh, Pen," said Bob, " how jolly kind of you 
 to ask me. I'm sick of grandmother; she worries 
 me to death. Always says, ' Robert, you mustn't.' 
 I say, have you read Kip's 'Cat that Walked by 
 Himself ? Mr. Guthrie says it's splendid, and 
 I say it's rot. But old Guth likes Virgil and Hor- 
 ace. Isn't that strange, for he can box like any- 
 thing. Baker, the groom, says he can. And Baker's 
 awful good with the mitts. But I say, Pen, what's 
 all this about you in the papers? Grandmother 
 wails when she sees one now. I ain't sure I like 
 having you so much in the papers. Pen." 
 
 " I don't like it, either," said Penelope, " but I 
 can't help it." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 37 
 
 " Is it true that you're going to be married and 
 never tell any one ? " demanded Bob from the bot- 
 tom of a huge rocking-chair, as they sat on the 
 lawn. They were in one of Pen's habitable houses, 
 and the lawn ran down to the Thames. 
 
 " I won't if I don't want to," said Penelope. 
 " But you're a boy, Bob, and don't understand these 
 things." 
 
 Bob snorted and smiled, not unsubtly. 
 
 " Oh, Pen, don't be like grandmother. I under- 
 stand pretty nearly everything now. Granny's al- 
 ways saying that, and it's jolly rot. You can't be 
 like me, turned out of three schools, and not know 
 something. Are you going to get married soon ? " 
 
 Pen shook her head. 
 
 " She's very savage at your knowing that Jew 
 cad, Gordon, but grandfather isn't. He says that 
 Gordon may be a Jew, of course, but he's all right. 
 I asked him if I could get put on a board as a 
 director, and he was so mad with me. I think 
 Gordon's asked him to be a director, and he'd like 
 to only he daren't. He's got none too much money, 
 you know, Pen. But about all these chaps. Pen ? " 
 
 He went through the horde seriatim, and pro- 
 nounced upon them all with ineffable wisdom. 
 
 " Goby's an ass, but a good ass. Pen," he said, 
 as he kicked with his legs. " He gave me a thick-un 
 
38 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 a year ago when I was in difficulties. But he hasn't 
 the brains to make a good corporal. Baker says 
 that. Baker was a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers. 
 I like Plant, though, Pen. Baker says he rides in 
 a rummy fashion, more like a circus man than any- 
 thing else, but he can stick to a horse. And there's 
 your Frenchman. I say, how does he come to be 
 called Rivaulx? Was he called after Rivaulx in 
 Yorkshire, or was it called after him? Ask him 
 if he shoots larks in his native country. All French- 
 men do, old Guth says. He says he read a book 
 the other day in which a French priest says he never 
 sees a lark without wanting to shoot it. What a 
 miserable rotter, wasn't he? But Rivaulx isn't so 
 bad, though. He's a gentleman, at any rate, though 
 he is French. I say, why do foreigners never look 
 like gentlemen? Dashed if I know. I've often 
 wondered, because grandfather likes them, through 
 his having been an ambassador. Sometimes a Ger- 
 man does, though. And Bramber's all right, Pen. 
 I don't think I'd mind your marrying him." 
 
 " I won't marry any one who isn't a useful citi- 
 zen," said Pen. 
 
 " He's all right," urged Bob. " He's as strong 
 as a bull. Baker says he'd peel better than most 
 prize-fighters. What is a useful citizen? I say, 
 if you get married, you'll tell me who it is ? " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 39 
 
 " No," said Penelope. 
 
 " I call that mean," said Bob. " I'd not tell any 
 one, and I'd help like fun." 
 
 " I'm sure you would, Bob. But I may never 
 get married." 
 
 " Rot," said Bob, " a girl like you not get mar- 
 ried! Oh, I say!" 
 
 And he continued to say for some hours, and 
 proved himself most entertaining company, quoting 
 Baker, who had been a sergeant in the Dublin Fusi- 
 liers, and had been very severely knocked about by 
 Jem Mace, and appealing to Mr. Guthrie, who came 
 over with him^ to get him to look at a book in the 
 mornings, to back him up. He was really very 
 modest and gentlemanly, at the same time that he 
 was exceedingly bumptious and arrogant, after the 
 best manner of the extremely healthy English boy. 
 
 And at twelve o'clock he came running to Penel- 
 ope and Chloe by the river-bank in wild excitement. 
 
 " I say, Pen, I say, Pen, there's old Goby coming, 
 and with that miserable rotter who makes poetry. 
 What's brought 'em here ? " 
 
 " I asked them to lunch," said Pen. 
 
 " Eh, what? " cried Bob. " Goby and that rotter, 
 Austin de Vere ! I say, Mr. Guthrie — " 
 
 He ran off to Guthrie, bawling : 
 
 " I say, Mr. Guthrie, here's that poet chap, Austin 
 
40 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 de Vere, come. Didn't you say he mostly wrote 
 rot?" 
 
 And Goby and De Vere came across the lawn 
 together, like a mastiff and a Maltese in company. 
 They made each other as nervous as. cats, and 
 couldn't for their lives understand why they were 
 asked together. 
 
 " The clumsy brute," said De Vere. 
 
 " The verse-making monkey," said Goby. 
 
 But tailors could have admired them both. They 
 were perfect. And lunch was a most painful func- 
 tion, only endurable to Penelope because she was 
 on the track of her duty, and to Chloe because she 
 laughed internally, and to Mr. Guthrie (who was 
 really a clever man) because he liked to study men 
 and manners, and to Bob because he talked all the 
 time, owing to the silence of the others. 
 
 " I say. Captain Goby, I've got a splendid bull- 
 pup. Baker got him for me, cheap, for a quid, — 
 a sovereign, I mean. You remember Baker. He 
 was a sergeant, — oh, I told you that just now. 
 Do you like bulldogs, Mr. de Vere? " 
 
 De Vere was politely sulky. 
 
 " Bulldogs, oh, ah, well, I do not know that I 
 do." 
 
 He looked at Goby, who was also sulky and feel- 
 ing very much out of it. But the subject of bull- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 41 
 
 dogs appealed to him, because he saw it didn't 
 amuse his rival. 
 
 " I'll give you a real good pup, Bob," he said, 
 good-naturedly ; " one that no one could get for a 
 sovereign." 
 
 "A real pedigree pup?" 
 
 " With a pedigree as long as your own," said 
 Goby. 
 
 Bob sighed, and laid his hand on Goby's. 
 
 " I say. Pen, isn't Captain Goby a real good 
 'un ? " he asked. " Baker says — " 
 
 But what Baker said does not come into this his- 
 tory, as the lunch finished, and they all went into 
 the garden. Goby spoke to Bob as they went. out. 
 
 " I say. Bob, get hold of that ass De Vere, and 
 talk to him as hard as the very deuce, will you? " 
 
 " You meant that about the pup? " said Bob. 
 
 "Of course. Bob." 
 
 " I'll talk his beastly head off," said Bob. 
 
 And this was why Penelope spoke confidentially 
 to Captain Goby before she did so to the poet. She 
 was exceedingly pale and very dignified, but she 
 lost no time in getting to the point. 
 
 " Captain Goby," she said, " you have asked me 
 to marry you at least three times." 
 
 Goby sighed. 
 
42 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Is it only three? " he demanded, and he added, 
 firmly, " it will be more yet." 
 
 " And I said ' no ' because I had no idea of mar- 
 rying any one." 
 
 " That was rot," said Goby. " For, if you mar- 
 ried no one else, you would marry me." 
 
 " Certainly not as you are," retorted Penelope. 
 " I want you and all men (that I know) to re- 
 form." 
 
 Goby was not astonished at anything Penelope 
 said. 
 
 " I reformed long ago," he said. " As soon as 
 I saw you, I said I'd reform and I did. It was a 
 great deal of trouble, but I did it. Oh, you've no 
 idea how I suffered. But I said, ' Plantagenet, my 
 boy, if you are to be worthy, you must buck up ! ' " 
 
 This was encouraging. 
 
 " I'm glad I've had so much influence," said Pen, 
 who didn't quite know what his reforms had been. 
 " But there are other things. This is merely nega- 
 tive. What are you doing to be useful to the state? 
 Are you loafing about on your money? Do you 
 do any work ? Are you educatiiig yourself ? " 
 
 Goby gasped. 
 
 " I say, come. Lady Penelope, I've done all that ! 
 Education ! why, I had a horrid time at school and 
 at a crammer's — " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 43 
 
 " Do you read ? " asked Pen, severely. 
 
 " Why, of course," said Goby. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Goby rubbed his cropped hair with two fingers. 
 
 "Papers?" 
 
 "Anything?" said Pen. 
 
 " Well, I read the Sportsman and the Pink Un 
 (at least, I did before I reformed) and the Ref- 
 eree" said Goby. 
 
 "Books?" 
 
 " Not many," said Goby. " But I will. What 
 do you recommend?" 
 
 " I think Tennyson and Shelley would do you 
 good," said Pen, " but you had better ask Mr. de 
 Vere. And do you do anything useful ? " 
 
 "De Vere! Oh, Lord!" cried Goby. "Any- 
 thing useful ? Why, I was in the army — " 
 
 " And now you do nothing. Well," said Penel- 
 ope, " I think you had better begin at once. Any 
 man I know has to do something useful. You must 
 go to the War Office and ask to be made something 
 again. I think a colonelcy of a militia regiment 
 would suit you. And I am going to ask Mr. de 
 Vere to take an interest in your reading." 
 
 " The devil ! " said Goby. " I say, my dear Lady 
 Penelope, I can't stand him. Why, you may have 
 seen we are barely civil to each other." 
 
44 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I shall speak to him firmly," said Penelope, 
 " and it's for his good, too. He leads an unhealthy 
 indoor life. I want you to change all that. You 
 row a great deal still, don't you ? " 
 
 " Since I reformed I began again," said Goby. 
 He felt the muscles of his right arm with compla- 
 cency. 
 
 " Take him out and make him row, then," said 
 Pen, " and while he rows you can read poetry to 
 him, and so on. It will be good for both of you." 
 
 "But — "said Goby. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " If I do this, will you marry me? " 
 
 Penelope shook her head. 
 
 " If you do it, I'll think whether I'll marry you." 
 
 "Oh," said the soldier, " and if I just can't hit 
 it off with that poet?" 
 
 " Then I won't think about it," replied Pen. 
 " I'll never, never consider the possibility of marry- 
 ing any one who isn't leading a useful life, and edu- 
 cating himself, and living on less than a thousand 
 a year. Can you do that, too ? " 
 
 " Dashed if I see how it can be done," said Plan- 
 tagenet Goby. " But I'll try, oh, yes, I'll try." 
 
 " Now you talk to Chloe," said Penelope, and 
 she went away to the rescue of the poet. For Bob 
 had got him in a comer. 
 
AR.THUn. WILLlArvl £.T£o^N 
 
 CAPTAIN PLANTAGENET GOBY, V. C, LATE OF THE GUARDS 
 
 Who was ordered to read poetry 
 
LADY PENELOPE 45 
 
 " I say, Mr. de Vere, wasn't that ripping of old 
 Goby to say he'd give me a real pedigree bull-pup ? 
 He knows a bull-pup from a window-shutter, as 
 Baker says. You don't like them? No, but you 
 would if you had one. I feed mine myself, and I 
 wear thick gloves, so's not to get hydrophobia when 
 he bites. He's a most interesting dog, and not so 
 good-tempered as most bulldogs. When he sees 
 a cat, oh, my, it's fun! Look here, when Goby 
 gives me the new pup with the pedigree, you can 
 have mine, if you like, cheap. I know you have a 
 place in the country, and you must want a bulldog. 
 Will you buy him ? " 
 
 " Good heavens, no ! " said the poet. 
 
 " Humph ! " cried Bob, who of course had quite 
 forgotten that he was doing all this for Goby, and 
 was just enjoying himself. " Why, what do you 
 do in the country without a dog? Do you ride?" 
 
 " No," said De Vere. 
 
 " Well, of all — I say, Mr. de Vere, what do you 
 do? Do you walk about and make poetry, and do 
 you like making it ? Old Guth, I mean Mr. Guthrie, 
 he's my tutor, and he's over there talking to Mrs. 
 Cadwallader, he reads a lot, and some of yours, 
 too." 
 
 " Oh, does he ! " said De Vere, who began to 
 take some interest. " Does he ? " 
 
46 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Oh, a lot of yours, he says ; most of it, I think." 
 
 "And does he like it?" 
 
 Bob put his head on one side. 
 
 " Well, he says it's not bad, some of it." 
 
 De Vere flinched at this faint praise. 
 
 "Indeed! And what does he like best?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, the beastliest rot," returned Bob, " Brown- 
 ing and Shelley, and I say, do you see that bulge 
 in his pocket? That's Catullus. He reads him all 
 day. But here comes Pen. I say, won't you have 
 my bull-pup? I'll let you have him for half a sov- 
 ereign; I got him for a sovereign, at least. Baker 
 did. / think your poetry's very fine, sir ; Mr. Guth- 
 rie lent me some." 
 
 But Penelope came across the lawn, and De Vere 
 forgot Bob and the bull-pup, and fell down and 
 worshipped. And the goddess took hold of him, 
 and stripped a lot of his poetry away, and set a 
 few facts before him and made him gasp. 
 
 " I heard a very strange rumour, Lady Penel- 
 ope," he said, when he was once more standing 
 upright before Aphrodite. " I heard — oh, but 
 it was absurd! I can't believe it." 
 
 " Then it is probably true," said the goddess, 
 breathlessly, " for I mean to have my own way 
 and to initiate a reformi in marriages, Mr. de Vere. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 47 
 
 , I have been reading the accounts of some fashion- 
 able wedding's lately, and they made me ill. What 
 you have heard is quite true." 
 
 The poet shook his head. 
 
 " I have had the honour to beg you to believe a 
 thousand times that I am devoted to you — " 
 
 " Three times, I think," said Pen, who was good 
 at arithmetic. 
 
 " Is it only thrice ? But do I understand that, 
 if I were to have the inexpressible delight of win- 
 ning your love. Lady Penelope, that the marriage 
 would be a secret one, that no one would know 
 of it?" 
 
 " I mean that," said Penelope, enthusiastically. 
 " It is a new departure, an assertion of a just indi- 
 vidualism, although I am a socialist. I abhor cere- 
 monies, and will not be interfered with. I have 
 stated with the utmost clarity to all my relations 
 that I shall not consult them or let them know until 
 I choose, and I shall only get married (if I ever 
 do) on these terms." 
 
 " I agree to them," said the poet. " Lady Penel- 
 ope, will you do me the inexpressible honour to be 
 my wife? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," said Pen. " Why, certainly not, 
 Mr. de Vere. I don't love any one yet, and perhaps 
 I never shall. But what I say is this : I'll think as 
 
48 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 to whether I shall marry you if you do as I wish 
 about this matter and about others." 
 
 " My blessed lady," said the poet, " is there any- 
 thing I would not dare or do? " 
 
 " I've told Captain Goby exactly the same thing," 
 said Penelope, thereby putting her pretty foot upon 
 the sudden flowers of De Vere's imagination, " and 
 what I want of you is to be more an out-of-door 
 man. You live too much in rooms, hothouses, Mr. 
 de Vere, and in your own garden." 
 
 " I was in a garden, I a poet, with one who 
 was (oh, and is) an angel," said De Vere, " but 
 now I dwell in arid deserts, shall I say the Desert 
 of Gobi? What have I to do with him? Shall he 
 dare to pretend to you, dear lady? " 
 
 " He's a very good chap," said Pen, quite shortly, 
 " and I think it would do you good to associate 
 with him more. I've told him so, and he agrees. 
 I want you to make him read a little, and exercise 
 his imagination. And he can take you out rowing 
 and shooting perhaps, and I think a little hunting 
 wouldn't do you harm. You might ask him to stay 
 with you, and he'll ask you. And I want you to 
 go out in motor-cars." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said De Vere. 
 
 " I know it will be hard," said Pen, consolingly. 
 " But you know what I want. It's not enough to 
 
LADY PENELOPE 49 
 
 be rich and write poetry, Mr. de Vere. I think you 
 might read statistics; statistics are a tonic, and I 
 want you to be a useful citizen, too. There are 
 things to be done. Just look at my cousin Bob. 
 Now he'll be a splendid man." 
 
 " He wanted to sell me a bull-pup," murmured 
 the poet. 
 
 " He's a good boy," said Pen, aflfectionately, 
 " and his instincts are to be trusted. I think a 
 bulldog would do you good perhaps. And I shall 
 expect to hear you have asked Captain Goby to 
 stay with you. And don't forget the statistics." 
 
 " I'll do it," said the unhappy poet, " for while 
 the One Hope I have exists, and until ' vain desire 
 at last and vain regret go hand in hand to death,' 
 I am your slave." 
 
 And, as he went away, he called Bob to him. 
 
 " I'll give you half a sovereign for that bulldog," 
 he said, bitterly. 
 
 " Oh, I say. But Baker says he's worth two 
 sovereigns," cried Bob. 
 
 " I'll give you two," said the poet. 
 
 And Bob danced on the lawn. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 If Penelope had had any sense of humour, she 
 would have deprived the round world of much to 
 laugh, at in sad times, when laughter was wanted. 
 But thanks be to whatever gods there are, some 
 folks have no humour, and some have a little, and 
 a few much, and thus the world gets on in spite 
 of the spirit of gravity, which, as may be remem- 
 bered by students of philosophy, Nietzsche branded 
 as the enemy. Pen went ahead, bent on cutting 
 her own swath in the hay-field, and she cut a big 
 one. Goby and the poet must stand as exemplars 
 of her clear and childlike method. It was Pen's 
 Short Way with Her Lovers. She got Rivaulx, 
 who was Nationalist and Anti-Semite to his mani- 
 cured finger-tips, and had been mixed up in the 
 Dreyfus case, and set him cheek by jowl with Gor- 
 don, alias Isaac Levi. 
 
 She made them dine together in putjlic, and the 
 poor marquis, being head over heels in love with 
 
 S° 
 
LADY PENELOPE Si 
 
 the earnest creature who was so beautiful, sub- 
 mitted like a lamb. 
 
 " Very well, I will," said Rivaulx. There were 
 almighty shrieks in the Paris press. The Journal 
 had an article that was wonderful. The affair woke 
 up anti-Semitism again. Rivaulx had been bought 
 by Jewry; France was once more betrayed; the 
 bottom of the world was falling out. 
 
 Pen, with no sense of humour, had a native 
 capacity for discovering every one's real weakness. 
 As the Frenchman would rather have died than dine 
 as he did, so Gordon would almost prefer to die 
 suddenly than to run the risk of it. He had won- 
 derful brains, and was a power in finance : he could 
 risk a million when he hadn't it or when he had it 
 as coolly as most men can risk a penny on the 
 chance of a slot-machine working. But physically 
 he was timid. Rivaulx went ballooning. He in- 
 tended to rival Santos-Dumont. 
 
 " You must go with him, Mr. Gordon," said 
 Penelope. Gordon nearly fainted, but Pen was 
 firm, as firm' as a rock. Gordon offered to subscribe 
 to all the hospitals in London if she would let him 
 off. He. offered to build a small one and endow 
 it ; he even suggested that he would build a church. 
 But the poor man had to go. It was now thor- 
 oughly understood that any man who refused to 
 
52 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 do exactly what she told him was struck ofif the 
 list. The comic papers were almost comic about 
 it. On the day that Gordon went up with Rivaulx 
 in an entirely non-dirigible balloon, the Crystal 
 Palace grounds were crowded with all the French- 
 men and all the Jews in London. The balloon came 
 down in a turnip-field fifteen miles from anywhere, 
 and Gordon got back to London and went to bed. 
 He was consoled by a telegram from Penelope, 
 who congratulated him on overcoming his natural 
 cowardice, and suggested he should do it again. 
 
 " I'll give her up first," said Gordon, knowing 
 all the time that he could no more do it than give 
 up finance. He went out and robbed a lot of his 
 friends as a compensation for disturbance, and 
 found himself a hero. In about forty-eight hours 
 the sensation of being looked on as a man of ex- 
 ceptional grit so pleased him that he adored Penel- 
 ope more than ever. He was as proud of having 
 been in a balloon as Rivaulx was of having dined 
 tete-a-tete with him in the open. 
 
 She sent for Rufus Q. Plant, and she introduced 
 him to Lord Bramber. Plant was a big American 
 with the common delusion among Americans that 
 he had an entirely English accent. But he hated 
 aristocrats. Bramber had an Oxford accent (Bal- 
 liol variety), and disliked Americans more than 
 
LADY PENELOPE 53 
 
 getting up in the morning. He was a fine-looking 
 young fellow with a good skull, who did nothing 
 with it. He had the tendencies of a citizen of 
 Sybaris, and got up at noon. Plant rose at dawn. 
 Bramber loved horses and hated motor-cars. Plant 
 had a manufactory of motors. Pen sent them away 
 together on a little tour, and hinted delicately to 
 Plant that his English accent would be improved 
 by a little Oxford polish. 
 
 " Arid as for you. Lord Bramber, when you come 
 back, I hope you will be more ready to acknowledge 
 that you don't know everything. Mr. Plant will 
 do you good, and will teach you to drive a motor ! " 
 
 She had never been so beautiful. She showed 
 at her best when her interest in humanity made 
 her courageous and brutal. The colour in her 
 cheeks was splendid; her eyes were as earnest as 
 the sea. If Bramber choked, he submitted, though 
 he blasphemed awfully when he got alone. 
 
 " Go at once," said Penelope. 
 
 She paired off Carteret Williams with Jimmy 
 Carew, A. R. A. Williams knew as much about 
 art as a hog does of harmony. Jimmy thought the 
 war correspondent a howling Philistine, as indeed 
 he was, and believed anything that could not be 
 painted was a mere by-product of the universe. 
 
 " You'll do each other good," said Pen, clasping 
 
54 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 her beautiful hands together with enthusiasm. 
 Jimmy wanted to draw her at once. Williams 
 wished for an immediate invasion, so that he could 
 save her life and write a flamboyant article about it. 
 
 " Show him pictures, Mr. Carew, beginning with 
 Turner and Whistler." 
 
 " Make him understand that art isn't ever3rthing, 
 Mr. Williams." 
 
 She sent them away together, and was wonder- 
 fully pleased with herself. 
 
 " They are all fine men," she said, thoughtfully, 
 " but it is curious that every man I know thinks 
 every other man more or less of a fool or an idiot, 
 or a cad. They are dreadfully one-sided. When 
 they come back they will be much improved. This 
 is my work in the world, and I don't care a bit 
 what people say." 
 
 People said lots, though after a bit the fun died 
 down, except among her own people. And even 
 they laughed at last. At least, every one did but 
 Titania, and she had no more sense of humour than 
 Penelope herself. Indeed, she had less, for Penel- 
 ope could understand a joke when it was explained 
 to her carefully, and Titania couldn't. And in after 
 years Pen came to see the humourous side of things. 
 She even appreciated a joke against herself, which 
 is the crucial test of humour. But Titania died 
 
LADY PENELOPE 55 
 
 maintaining that life was a serious business, and 
 should be taken like medicine. 
 
 " I never heard of more insane proceedings," 
 said Titania, " never ! The notion of sending that 
 poor Jew up in a balloon with that mad Frenchman ! 
 Balloons at the best are blasphemous. And to make 
 Captain Goby read with poor little De Vere! I'm 
 sure there will be murder done before she's mar- 
 ried. And now it's an understood thing that she 
 will marry one of them. And Brading laughs ! If 
 he is only her half-brother, I consider him respon- 
 sible. And Augustin smiles and smokes and smokes 
 and smiles. And Chloe Cadwallader, whom I never 
 approved of and never shall, backs her up, of course. 
 One of these days I shall tell Chloe Cadwallader 
 what I think of her!" 
 
 "I say, granny, what do you think of her?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 " Never mind," said Titania ; " there are things 
 that you know nothing of, Robert." 
 
 " Oh, are there? " said Bob. " I say, granny, I 
 ain't sure of that. I've been expelled from three, 
 schools, and Baker says — " 
 
 " Oh, bother Baker," cried his exasperated grand- 
 mother. " I think Mr. Guthrie might keep you 
 away from Baker." 
 
 " He can't," said Bob, cheerfully. " Old Guth 
 
56 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 and I have made a treaty. I do what he tells me 
 between ten and twelve, and what I like afterward. 
 If we are reading Latin, and the clock strikes twelve, 
 I say, ' Mr. Guthrie, don't you think Latin's rot?' 
 and he says, ' Oh, is it twelve ? I thought it was 
 only eleven ! ' I get on with Guth, I tell you." 
 
 And he was very thick with Goby, who had given 
 him the pedigree bull-pup. Mr. de Vere now owned 
 the interesting one which had to be fed with gloves 
 on, and loathed it with an exceeding hatred only 
 exceeded by his hatred for Goby. 
 
 " I say. Pen, you go it," said Bob. " There's 
 heaps of fun in this. They all tip me now like 
 winking." 
 
 But Pen did not see the fun. It was a serious 
 business. She looked after her lovers with the 
 greatest care. They brought her reports; they 
 complained of each other. She smoothed over dif- 
 ficulties, and explained what they were to do. 
 
 " How the devil am I to live on a thousand a 
 year ! " said Goby. But he tried it and found it 
 quite exciting. It exercised his self-control won- 
 derfully. He went into the War Office once a week 
 and demanded some kind of job, and was put off 
 with all kinds of regulations. He sent a telegram 
 to Penelope the first week, saying that according 
 to his accounts he had spent no more than £20. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 57 
 
 She wired congratulations, and received another 
 wire: 
 
 " Have made a mistake. Forgot to include a 
 few bills. Will be more careful in future. 
 
 " Goby." 
 
 Plant said : 
 
 " What, a thousand a year ! That's easy. I can 
 live on thirty shillings a week. My dear Lady 
 Penelope, I've done it on half a dollar a day. I'll 
 show you." 
 
 He took one room in Bloomsbury, and sent in 
 his bills and accounts to her weekly. She suggested 
 he should find out if his great success in the United 
 States had ruined any one in particular, and if so 
 that he should compensate them. This cost him 
 a hundred thousand dollars. Almost every other 
 day she got a telegram something like this : 
 
 " Have found another person I ruined. Am 
 cabling five thousand dollars to widow and orphans. 
 Man is dead." 
 
 Or,- 
 
 " Another find. Man said to be a lunatic, but 
 perfectly sane except on point of Trusts. Have 
 cabled for his transfer to more comfortable asy- 
 lum." 
 
58 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Or,— 
 
 " Widow refuses money with insults. Have set- 
 tled it on daughter, and have given son job." 
 
 Or,- 
 
 " Man in question has given amount cabled to 
 Republicans of New York. Has recovered and has 
 started a Trust himself." 
 
 This was very satisfactory. Penelope saw she 
 was doing good. In the middle of her joy, she 
 received a wire from Goby. 
 
 " May I stop poetry with De Vere? Doctor says 
 I am overdoing it. Goby." 
 
 She also received one at the same time from 
 De Vere: 
 
 " If I could have a week to myself to write satire, 
 should be eternally grateful. Doctor says rowing 
 may be carried to excess. The bulldog is well. 
 
 " De Vere." 
 
 The Marquis de Rivaulx, after a fortnight with 
 Gordon, asked to be allowed to go over to Paris to 
 see his mother. But he acknowledged that Gordon 
 was not a bad chap, though he was as white as a 
 sheet in the balloon. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 59 
 
 " And he told me, my dear lady, what to buy. 
 He knows very well what to buy and what to sell. 
 He is immensely clevair, oh, yes. And may I go 
 and see maman? " 
 
 She let him go, but not before he promised to 
 take no part in any further anti-Semitic proceed- 
 ings. She told Gordon not to brag so much of 
 having been in a balloon. 
 
 " You know you were afraid," she said. " The 
 marquis said you were." 
 
 " Of course I was," said Gordon, " but I went, 
 didn't I?" 
 
 That was unanswerable. 
 
 She had an " at home " once a week. It was 
 understood that no one but her own relatives and 
 members of the horde were to call on that day. 
 She then issued any directions that she thought of 
 during the week. Bradstock was now openly and 
 recklessly on her side. 
 
 " I believe you're doing good, real good," said 
 Augustin. " I'm proud of you. Don't mind my 
 laughing, Pen. Oh, but you are wonderful." 
 
 He gave her advice. 
 
 " Kick young Bramber into public life," he said. 
 " He's got brains." 
 
 " Lord Bramber," said Pen, " you are to go into 
 Parliament at once. Speak to Lord Bradstock 
 
6o LADY PENELOPE 
 
 about it, and I'll talk to Mrs. Mytton on your be- 
 half. I expect you to be an Under-Secretary of 
 State at once." 
 
 " Damn ! this is worse than Plant," said the 
 obedient Bramber. Nevertheless, he owned that 
 Plant was a man, and a real good sort. 
 
 " I go to see him, Lady Penelope, in his room 
 in Bloomsbury. He's living on about half a crown 
 a day. I — oh — yes, I'm coming down to the 
 thousand by degrees. And of course if you want 
 me to go into the House, I'll go." 
 
 Carteret Williams was there, and was put 
 through his paces by Pen about art. He had learnt 
 something about it by rote. 
 
 " The Academy is composed of painters." he 
 said, mechanically, " bu ^ there are few artists in it. 
 I quite agree with Carew, who had his pictures 
 chucked before they made him an associate through 
 fear. Turner is a very great artist. He shows how 
 near the sublime can get to the ridiculous. Whis- 
 tler is also great. He shows how near the ridiculous 
 can go to the sublime. Art is a combination of the 
 material and the spiritual. So Carew says. He 
 showed me a lot of Blake, and he says that the 
 beauty of Blake is that you can't understand him 
 by any ordinary means, such as the intellect. I'm 
 not up to Blake yet. The old masters are very fine. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 6i 
 
 I admit it. Velasquez is dry, but wonderful. Rem- 
 brandt appeals to me because he is very dark; I 
 think he would be better if he were darker. We 
 go to the National Gallery every day, and then I 
 take him to the Press Club, where he hears about 
 real life." 
 
 When Carew came, he owned that Williams 
 wasn't a bad sort. 
 
 " And he's doing his level best to understand," 
 said Carew, with enthusiasm. " He stands before 
 a picture of mine every day for an hour while I 
 explain it. He sees something in it at last. And 
 he's reading about art, and is beginning to see why 
 a photograph isn't the last word of things. He's 
 led a wonderful life. Lady Penelope, and when he 
 gets on what he's seen and done, I feel almost 
 ashamed to live as I do." 
 
 " That's right," said Pen ; " every artist should. 
 And every man who is not an artist should be sorry 
 that he is not. We are far from perfect yet." 
 
 How beautiful she looked, thought Carew. 
 
 " She lives in the world of the ideal, and so 
 do L" 
 
 " I am very much pleased with everything," 
 said Pen at large to the assembly, and De Vere, 
 who was having a holiday for his satire, was pleased 
 
62 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 too. And Goby was delighted at being let off poetry 
 for awhile. 
 
 " Not but what there's something in it, I admit," 
 said Goby, critically. " Robert Lindsay Gordon is 
 a fair snorter at it. I can't say I'm up to Shelley 
 yet. De Vere read me the Epi-something-or- 
 other." 
 
 " ' Epipsychidion,' " said Pen. 
 
 " That's it, a regular water-jump of a word," 
 said Goby, " and he took it in his stride, while I 
 boggled on the bank. However, I'm coming up 
 hand over hand with him. I'm reading Keats with 
 him. He's all right when you get to know him, 
 Lady Penelope, and rowing's doing him no end of 
 good. He's a well-made little chap, and getting 
 some good muscle. If I'm not dead by the time 
 I can take the Epi-what's-his-name, I'll make a 
 man of him." 
 
 Rivaulx, who had come in with Gordon on his 
 return from seeing his mother in Paris, was very 
 proud of himself. 
 
 " A year ago I should not have had the courage 
 to show myself with a Jew," said Rivaulx, tri- 
 umphantly. " Lady, dear lady, I thought I should 
 have died when I asked him to dinner. But now 
 I like him. He is wonderful. When he says ' buy,' 
 I buy, and heigh, presto! the shares go up like 
 
LADY PENELOPE 63 
 
 my balloon. And when he says ' sell,' I sell, and 
 they go down like a barometer when you go up. 
 Oh, yes, and all your aristocracy admire him. I 
 saw seven great lords with him the other day, and 
 they said : ' What company am I to be a director 
 of, Gordon ? ' and he said he'd ask his clerk. But 
 I have refused to be a director. I should not like 
 maman to know I know him. She is very dreadful 
 against Jews, owing to the affaire in France." 
 
 And that was the celebrated afternoon that Penel- 
 ope, who found that she was doing good in every 
 way to all mankind by obliterating all class and 
 professional jealousies, raised passion and curiosity 
 to its highest point by saying, with the sweetest 
 blush : 
 
 "Very well, then, I promise to marry one of 
 you!" 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Penelope was the swan, and all her relations 
 were the ducks. The noise they made was simply 
 unendurable. For, besides Titania, she had cousins 
 and other aunts, or people who were in the posi- 
 tion of aunts, and she had friends who had been 
 friends of her mother, and they came down on her 
 like the Assyrian. They objected to publicity, espe- 
 cially for other people, and for a young woman to 
 become a public character was something worse 
 than immorality. Nothing but Penelope's entire 
 singleness of character and her humourous want 
 of humour enabled her to meet and overcome them. 
 And even she felt at times that flight was the only 
 thing left. She sent to her solicitor for a list of 
 all the houses and mansions and castles that she 
 owned, and she took her motor-car and her pet 
 chauffeur, and, having borrowed Bob from his 
 grandmother, she set off on a tour. She disap- 
 peared for a week at a time. Then she disappeared 
 for two weeks. She was even lost for a month, 
 
 64 
 
LADY PENELOPE 65 
 
 " She ought to be in an asylum," said Titania, 
 " and I have to let Bob go with her. He is some 
 kind of a safeguard. How do I know she isn't 
 married already? Bob, dear Bob, has ceased to 
 confide in me. When I interrogate him, he puts 
 me off. I get nothing out of him. The only thing 
 that I can congratulate myself on is that now, in- 
 stead of ' Baker says,' it is ' Pen says.' And I 
 doubt, I own I doubt, and I cannot help it, whether 
 Bob is not being done serious harm to, considering 
 that he will one day be a duke. A duke should be 
 brought up properly. Goring was brought up 
 badly, I deeply regret to say. He laughs at Penel- 
 ope's behaviour, and says girls will be girls. I say 
 they will be women, and he says, ' Thank the Lord,' 
 and I don't know what he means. But, as I say, 
 this wretched girl may be married by now. It is 
 already months since she said, in my hearing, to 
 a whole crowd of men, ' I promise to marry one 
 of you ! ' Was there ever an aunt in a more un- 
 fortunate position ? I feel as if I should become a 
 lunatic. Augustin, do you hear me, I am rapidly 
 becoming insane." 
 
 " Oh, ah," said Augustin, who always knew more 
 about Pen's actions than any one else. She wrote 
 to him from a hundred places. 
 
66 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Keep your eye upon Mr. Gordon," she said. 
 " And what are people saying about Lord Bram- 
 ber's speech? I shall be up in town in time to see 
 Mr. Carew's new picture. I got a letter from Mr. 
 de Vere, saying that Captain Goby was learning 
 Wordsworth's ode on the ' Intimations of Immor- 
 tality in Childhood ' by heart. Mr. de Vere says 
 he is doing what I told him, and is keeping his 
 eye on Mr. Roosevelt. I told him to model him- 
 self on the President of the United States. He says 
 he rows and has bought a Sandow exerciser, and 
 he says it does not make him so tired now. Mr. 
 Williams told me when I was last in town that he 
 was thinking of writing a guide to Dulwich Gal- 
 ery if war didn't break out. I am afraid he hopes 
 it will. Mr. Plant's last weekly accounts were only 
 los. 6d. I advised him to see a doctor if he thought 
 it was doing him harm. The marquis has written 
 a very good article in the Revue des Deux Mondes 
 against anti-Semitism. I am greatly pleased with 
 this. I hope Mr. Carew's picture is intelligible. 
 I told him it was no absolute sign of genius to be 
 entirely incomprehensible. He took it very well. 
 I think Mr. Williams will have a good effect on 
 him. I have visited ten mansions, seven castles 
 (two with moats; mother used to love moats, be- 
 cause there are none in America), and several other 
 
LADY PENELOPE (>7 
 
 houses of mine. Most need repairs. I shall be 
 home next week. Tell aunt that Bob is very well 
 and brown, and is learning to drive my car at full 
 speed down a narrow road with sharp turns in it. 
 Smith says he will be the best driver in England 
 when he is grown up, if he goes on and doesn't 
 have his nerve broken up early by an accident. But 
 I think his nerve is good, though I can't always 
 tell, as I shut my eyes when we go very fast. Good- 
 bye now, dear Guardy. 
 
 " Your loving 
 
 " Penelope. 
 
 " P. S. I am sure I am doing good ! " 
 
 Bob was very sure of it, too. 
 
 " I say. Pen, old Guth will be lonely, won't he? 
 But he's all right if he has a bally Catullus in his 
 pocket, and he draws his screw just the same. 
 Granny is very decent to him, take it all around. 
 And I like him because he likes dogs. I must wire 
 to Baker to hear how ' Captain ' is getting on. I 
 called him Captain because old Goby gave him to 
 me. I say. Pen, don't you think Smith is a ripping 
 good driver? He says that he'll be my chauffeur 
 when I'm a duke, if you don't want him. He says 
 him and me'll win every bally race. I'd like to do 
 
68 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 that. I begin to think horse-racing is rot. You 
 see three or four people can't ride a race-horse, and 
 the responsibiHty of driving you fast when the 
 road's crooked is the fun. Every time I miss a 
 cart, Pen, I feel as happy as if I'd hit Rhodes for 
 four every time he sent a ball dowti to mte. That 
 would be fun. Baker says — no, I mean Smith 
 says that all other sports are rot of the worst kind. 
 He says if he's ever rich, he'll go through the city 
 every day as fast as he can. He hates the police, 
 and some of them hate him. He rode over a ser- 
 geant in the Kingston Road once, but he didn't 
 hurt him much. When shall we leave this castle 
 and go to another one? I hope the next is a long 
 way off. Smith says he wants a good road to show 
 what she'll do when she's out to the last notch. 
 And it must be down-hill." 
 
 And in towm, while Pen was going about the 
 country, people's tongues ran as fast as any motor- 
 car. 
 
 " It is nonsense," said one ; " she's married al- 
 ready." 
 
 " I know she's not. I paid a shilling and looked 
 it up at Somerset House." 
 
 " That's nothing," said a barrister. " They could 
 have been married under wrong names." 
 
 " That wouldn't be legal." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 69 
 
 " Yes, it would. It's only illegal if a false name 
 is used and one of the parties doesn't know. Then 
 the one who is deceived can get a declaration of 
 nullity," said the barrister. 
 
 "Oh, well, but who is it?" 
 
 " It's no one. I don't believe she'll marry at all." 
 
 " She's a crank." 
 
 " It's madness. I hear the Duchess of Goring 
 has taken to her bed." 
 
 " Well, Goring hasn't. I saw him at the Friv- 
 olity." 
 
 "Who is it now?" 
 
 " I don't know her name. But where's Lady 
 Penelope? " 
 
 No one knew but Bradstock, and even Augustin 
 was behind by a post or two. None of the " horde " 
 knew, and they began to get suspicious of each 
 other. Goby watched De Vere, and De Vere kept 
 his eye on Goby. It was obvious from the news- 
 papers that Bramber was in the House. Gordon 
 was seen at his Club. And then Carteret Williams 
 was missing. Carew hunted for him in vain at 
 the Press Club and at the office of the Morning 
 Hour. There was no war yet, though there were 
 rumours of it in the Balkans as usual. 
 
 It got about that she had married Williams, 
 
70 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 though he had only run away from Carew for a 
 week. 
 
 " The very worst of the lot," wailed Titania. 
 " I knew it would be Williams. He's hardly a 
 gentleman, though he comes of a good family. 
 Being a war correspondent makes a man brutal. 
 I knew, I knew, I knew it was Williams, and now 
 I shall never speak to her; and he will beat her in 
 time, I know it, and there will be a horrible scandal ; 
 and what, oh, what can she have done with Bob? 
 Augustin, go at once and find where Bob is. I 
 knew it would be Williams! Didn't I always say 
 it would be Williams? I could have forgiven her 
 any one else." 
 
 Gordon came to ask Bradstock if it was true. 
 And Bradstock had a sense of humour, if Pen had 
 none. 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, "how can I tell? She 
 liked him very much, took a great interest in him. 
 She told me he was writing a guide to the art of 
 Dulwich Gallery. Do you think that a bad sign?" 
 
 Gordon groaned. 
 
 "It looks bad, Lord Bradstock, But I don't 
 believe she takes much interest in him. She takes 
 an interest in me, my lord! Why, I went up in a 
 balloon all on her account. I went with that mad- 
 man, the French marquis, and as sure as my name's 
 
LADY PENELOPE 71 
 
 Le — I mean Gordon, there's not another woman 
 in the world I'd have done it for. Don't you think 
 that going up in a balloon, when you'd rather die 
 than do it, ought to touch a woman's heart? I 
 give you my word that slie as good as said, ' Go 
 up in a balloon and I'll — ' well, or words to that 
 effect. I tell you what. Lord Bradstock, I know 
 you ain't a rich man, not a very rich one, that is, 
 but, if you'll be on my side, I'll put you on to a 
 good thing, the best thing in the market. It's going 
 up like — oh, like a beastly balloon, sir, — my lord, 
 I mean. I'm making it go up, and I'll tell you when 
 to sell. Oh, Lord, I'm very unhappy, my lord. I 
 love the ground she walks on. I'd like to buy it 
 at the price of a city frontage. Come in with me, 
 my lord, and you shall have a tip that half a dozen 
 dukes are dying for. There's a room full of bally 
 dukes waiting to see me now, and I gave them the 
 slip. Will you come in with me? Do, do! " 
 
 He was a lamentable object, and there was a spot 
 upon his hat which did not shine. He worked at 
 it eagerly with his sleeve, and stood waiting for a 
 -reply. 
 
 " I don't mind telling you," said Bradstock, " that 
 my income is only five thousand a year." 
 
 " Poor beggar ! " murmured Gordon. 
 
72 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " But I only spend four. And if I had more 
 what could I do with it ? " 
 
 "Give it me," said Gordon, eagerly, "and I'll 
 make more of it for you. Man alive, — my lord, 
 I mean — I can make it millions." 
 
 There was a faint suspicion of the " millionth " 
 in the word. 
 
 " I can make it millionth," said Gordon. " I've 
 put a pound or two into that Frenchman's pocket, 
 I can tell you, though he did take nie up in a bal- 
 loon, and I'll put fifty for one into yourth, so help 
 me. 
 
 " I don't want it." 
 
 " Well, you can give it away," shrieked Gordon. 
 " They'll make you a duke if you only give away 
 enough. If there wathn't a faint thuspithion of 
 Jewish blood in me, I'd be a baron now at leathth. 
 Give it away to hospithalths, build a lunatic asylum, 
 finanth your party. And if that don't thucktheed, 
 go into beer or biscuits, and you'll be made any- 
 thing you like." 
 
 " If they would make me thirty, I'd do it," said 
 Bradstock. 
 
 " Thirty dukes ? " asked Gordon, in bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "Thirty years old," said Bradstock. 
 

 /HRTmuR -vlLui^r-l .£RoyVr- 
 
 LEOPOLD NORFOLK GORDON 
 
 Some said his real name was Isaac Levi 
 
LADY PENELOPE 73 
 
 Gordon advanced on him and took him by a 
 button. 
 
 " My lord," he said, solemnly, " money ith youth 
 and strength and everything except Lady Penelope. 
 If you had a million, you'd feel twenty-five. When 
 I had a measly hundred thousand, I was thin and 
 always going to doctors. When I got two, I got 
 fatter and gave 'em up. Now I'm worth two mil- 
 lionth." 
 
 But Bradstock said, brutally : " No, Mr. Gordon, 
 I don't want money, and I don't want you to marry 
 Lady Penelope. If I had a million, I'd rather lose 
 it than see her do so." 
 
 " Did you tell her that ? " asked Gk)rdan. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " I'm damned glad," said Gordon. " If you want 
 a cat to go one way, pull its tail the other." 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Bradstock, and Gordon went 
 away sorrowfully, for he had great riches, and saw 
 no good in them without Pen. 
 
 Bradstock had to interview all the lovers one 
 after one. They came to implore his vote and in- 
 terest. He saw Rivaulx, whose great desire was 
 to look like an Englishman and act like one. 
 Rivaulx adopted a stony calm, which sat upon him 
 like a title on a Jew, but did not stick so tight. 
 He ended a talk which began most conventionally 
 
74 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 in a wild and impassioned waltz around Bradstock's 
 room, with despair for a partner. He tore at his 
 hair, but, having had it clipped till it was like a 
 shaved blacking-brush, he could not get hold of it. 
 
 " I must wed her," he howled. " I told mamam 
 so, or I shall perish. I will become an Englishman. 
 Mon Dieu, I am sad. I am fearfully mournful. I 
 weep exceedingly. Have I not done all? I have 
 eaten largely in public with Mr. Gordon. I have 
 bought his shares and have sold them, but in my 
 heart I cannot. When I return to Paris, I shall 
 fight duels because I have written for Dreyfus with 
 tears in my eye and my tongue in my cheek for 
 sorrow. Where is she, Lord Bradstock? Tell me 
 where she is ? I will go to her and say I have done 
 all and can no more ! " 
 
 De Vere tackled him, too. 
 
 " My dear chap," said Bradstock, " I don't know 
 her mind." 
 
 " She knows her own," said De Vere, with much 
 bitterness, " and so does that boy Bob. I bought 
 a bulldog of him, because she said she thought one 
 would do me good. I don't know why, and now 
 Bob sells me dogs by telegram, and I daren't refuse 
 'em." 
 
 " Great Scott! " said his host; " but why? " 
 
 " That young ruffian has an influence over her," 
 
LADY PENELOPE 75 
 
 mourned the poet. " He is always with her. He 
 is capable of saying I am a ' rotter ' ; yes, a rotter, 
 a dozen times a day if I refuse, and to have him 
 doing that would be more than I can endure. I 
 want her to love me, and so I buy his dogs. I have 
 a bulldog which hasn't done me any good. All 
 he has done is to tear my trousers and trample over 
 my flower-beds. I have an Irish terrier who is 
 now being cured of bulldog bites by a veterinary 
 surgeon. I've a retriever who howls at night and 
 makes the bulldog unhappy. I have a Borzois with 
 bronchitis and no hair on his tail. Bob wrote to 
 say the hair would grow if I put hair-wash on it 
 myself. He said men couldn't be trusted to do it. 
 And then I've Goby on my hands. I speak in con- 
 fidence, Lord Bradstock." 
 
 " Of course," said Bradstock. 
 
 "Then I own I loathe Goby," said De Vere, 
 viciously. " He has less brains than my bulldog, 
 and I think the bulldog has less brains than the 
 retriever. He reads poetry because she said he was 
 to, and he makes me explain mine to him. Explain 
 it ! And he makes me row every day he's with me, 
 and he says I'm not imitating Roosevelt if I don't. 
 She said I was to imitate Roosevelt. Why should 
 I? I loathe Republicans. She also told me I was 
 to imitate Sven Hedin. On inquiry I found Sven 
 
16 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Hedin was an ass who explored deserts, and went 
 without water for many days. Goby can do that, 
 as my wine-cellar can testify. He says he only 
 tastes water when he cleans his teeth, and then it 
 makes him sick. And, though I keep wine for my 
 friends, I am a water-drinker. How can I do with- 
 out it? I am very unhappy." 
 
 " I should chuck Goby and give it up," said Brad- 
 stock. 
 
 " I wish I could," said the poet, " but my nature 
 is an enduring one. We learn in suffering Gobies 
 and bulldogs what we teach in song. A dog may 
 be the friend of man, but a bulldog is a tailor's 
 enemy. And I believe they gave Goby the V. C. 
 to get rid of him. Do they ever give decorations 
 to get rid of people? " 
 
 Bradstock said he thought so, and wondered what 
 he could give De Vere. 
 
 And then the poet sighed and rose. 
 
 " I have to meet Goby and lunch with him. And 
 afterward we read Shelley together, and then he 
 will teach me billiards at his club. I loathe billiards. 
 It is the most foolish game on earth except keeping 
 bulldogs. And Goby's friends are not sympathetic. 
 They are sportsmen, and ought to be hunted with 
 bulldogs." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 77 
 
 He went away sadly, and Bradstock lay on a 
 sofa and laughed till he cried. 
 
 " Pen will be my death and the death of a dozen," 
 he said. " And as for Bob — " 
 
 No sooner had De Vere departed than young 
 Bramber was announced. 
 
 " Conceited young ass," said Bradstock. But 
 Bramber was in the House, and was supposed to 
 be doing very well. He had brains, no doubt, and 
 the manner of Oxford (Balliol variety, as afore- 
 said) sat on him well. He made speeches, and Mr. 
 Mytton congratulated him on one of them. Noth- 
 ing but his passion for Penelope prevented him 
 being as conceited as Bradstock supposed him to 
 be. But it must be remembered that Bradstock 
 couldn't make speeches. 
 
 " I thought I'd come and look you up," said 
 Bramber. " I thought you could tell me something 
 about Lady Penelope." 
 
 " I can't," replied Bradstock. " I spend all my 
 afternoons in saying so. I've had Rivaulx and 
 Austin de Vere and Gordon here already, and after 
 you go I don't doubt that Goby or Plant will turn 
 up. How do you get on with Plant? Do you 
 know, Bramber, I believe Plant is the best man of 
 the lot of you." 
 
 Bramber frowned* 
 
78 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " He has an accent that can be cut into slabs, to 
 use his own dialect," said Bramber, 
 
 " Your own accent is equally disagreeable to an 
 American," said Bradstock, who had been in the 
 United States several times. 
 
 " I have no accent," said Bramber, haughtily. 
 
 " Oh," returned Bradstock. " And how do you 
 get along with Plant ? " 
 
 Bramber was obviously more jealous of Plant 
 than any one. But he made a tremendous effort 
 to be fair. 
 
 " He's a very able man," he said at last, " but 
 there's no man I should find it so hard to get on 
 with. He says just what he thinks in the most 
 awful way. And because Lady Penelope said he 
 was not to spend more than twenty-five pounds a 
 week, he is living on ten shillings out of bravado. 
 I hate bravado. He made me dine with him in 
 Soho, and our dinners came to elevenpence each. 
 Where is Lady Penelope? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Bradstock. 
 
 "I didn't see Plant yesterday," said Bramber, 
 uneasily. 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 "You don't think?" 
 
 "I don't know what to think," said Bradstock, 
 
LADY PENELOPE 79 
 
 wickedly. " I hear that Jimmy Carew hasn't been 
 seen for days, either." 
 
 Bramber fidgeted on his chair, 
 
 " She ccm't marry Carew. He's a thorough out- 
 sider." 
 
 " Women don't understand the word, my dear 
 chap. How are you getting on in the House? And 
 have you been motoring with Plant ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bramber ; " we killed three fowls 
 and a dog yesterday. And Plant was fined ten 
 pounds a week ago. He said he would wire to 
 Lady Penelope to know if that was business ex- 
 penses. I believe he wants to break my neck." 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised," said Bradstock. 
 " Has he gone out alone to-day, do you think ? I 
 suppose you know Penelope is doing a lot of it 
 now ? " 
 
 " The devil she is ! " said Bramber. " I think 
 I'll go and look up Plant." 
 
 Bradstock got some amusement out of the situa- 
 tion, if Titania didn't. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Penelope came back to town about a week later 
 and saw every one. 
 
 " I wonder whom I love," said Pen, " for I'm 
 sure I love some one. And they are all so kind and 
 sweet and good. I'm sorry I shall have to hurt 
 so many of them, for the poor dears all adore me." 
 
 It was marvellous how they had developed in 
 a short time under Pen's system, which was evi- 
 dently sound, as Bradstock declared. Plant, under 
 his ten-and-sixpence-a-week scheme, had lost a stone 
 weight, and was as hard and fine as a coil of wire. 
 His search after the people he had ruined gave him 
 a peace of mind to which he had long been a 
 stranger, for American millionaires in business have 
 no peace of mind. 
 
 " I feel good," said Plant, meaning it both ways, 
 " and my endurance of young Bramber has stiffened 
 my moral fibre." 
 
 " Whether I marry you or not, Mr. Plant," said 
 Penelope, " I am awfully pleased with you. And 
 how has Lord Bramber behaved ? " 
 
 80 
 
LADY PENELOPE 8i 
 
 " He's been death on what he called my accent," 
 said Plant, a little bitterly, " and it is notorious 
 I've none to speak of; and, for that matter, his own 
 you could cut with a knife. However, I think he's 
 a good boy, and will discover he has brains. I've 
 talked to him straight. Lady Penelope. I told him 
 you meant me to. I said he might be a lord and 
 the son of an earl, but that he was a lazy, loafing 
 scallawag, and that, if he'd been my son, I'd have 
 cowhided him. That did him good; it made him 
 sit up, I tell you. Oh, he fairly fizzled and felt like 
 going for me, but he knew better. He has brains, 
 and I've talked with members of your legislature 
 who say he'll do well. Put this down to me. Lady 
 Penelope. Credit me with this. I've looked after 
 him like a baby, and I've hustled him around in 
 my motor till he can't help going when he's out 
 of it. You and me together, my dear young lady, 
 could educate the entire universe. If you'll only 
 marry me, I'll start a university on these lines of 
 yours." 
 
 The idea was a pleasing one, but of course Pen 
 pointed out to him that it was his duty to do it 
 whether she married him or not. 
 
 " Duty is duty," said Pen. " I'm doing all this 
 out of a sense of duty." 
 
 " Don't marry out of a sense of it," retorted 
 
82 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Plant. " I just want to be loved. I'm going around 
 feeling I want to be loved. I've never been loved 
 properly all my life, and I begin to hanker after 
 it wildly. And, if you do marry me. Lady Penel- 
 ope, I want you to understand right here and now 
 that I don't want you to do your duty by me. If 
 you begin to do that, I'll take a Colt's forty-five 
 and scatter my brains out. I want love, that's what 
 I want. I want it straight, without water in it." 
 
 " I see what you mean," said Penelope. " I think 
 you are a very noble-hearted man, Mr. Plant." 
 
 And away went poor Plant to draw up a scheme 
 for a university. 
 
 " I think I could almost love him," said the pen- 
 sive Penelope. " I could — almost — " 
 
 Her contemplations were interrupted by Captain 
 Goby. He was a little paler than usual, and perhaps 
 a trifle more intelligent. And he was more in love 
 than ever. 
 
 " I've done everything you told me," he said, 
 as he sat down and eyed her wistfully. " I've gone 
 into poetry like a bull at a hedge. Lady Penelope. 
 I begin to see what it means. Old Austin (poor 
 old josser) has taken the deuce's own pains over 
 me. He's read ' The Lady of the Garden ' to me 
 seventeen times. He wrote it ten years ago. He 
 says he wonders how he did it, and so do I. I've 
 
LADY PENELOPE 83 
 
 been trying to write poetry to you, do you know. 
 That .showed me there must be some special gift in 
 it, for I never did anything worth the horrid trouble. 
 And I've been worrying the War Office like a bull- 
 dog. They say they'll think of me, and haven't 
 gone any further, and talking of bulldogs, Bob's 
 bulldog bit Austin de Vera, and he swore like a 
 man. I was surprised. But if I were you, I'd tell 
 Bob to stop sending him more dogs. He's very 
 kind to them, but they worry him. Bob's prices are 
 very high, too. How is Bob? Oh, by the way, 
 I'm living on ten pounds a week. Need I reckon 
 tailor's bills in, do you think? Oh, yes, this bulge 
 is the Golden Treasury. I take it out and read a 
 lyric between meals. The chaps at the Rag chaff 
 me like blazes, but I don't mind so long as I im- 
 prove. I want to improve so as to be worthy of 
 your intellect. Lady Penelope." 
 
 " The poor dear," said Pen, when he was gone, 
 " I think I could almost love him ! " 
 
 As luck would have it. Bob and Austin de Vere 
 came in almost at the same minute. For now Ti- 
 tania couldn't keep Bob away. For the matter of 
 that, she did not want to. Bob was to be Penel- 
 ope's safeguard. He was much better than Chloe 
 Cadwallader, said Titania. 
 
 However, De Vere came in first. He held Penel- 
 
84 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 ope's hand no longer than a poet should, as poets 
 naturally hold girls' hands rather longer than other 
 people. 
 
 " You are looking really well, Mr. de Vere," said 
 Penelope, when she was free. 
 
 " I am well," said the poet, " exceedingly well 
 in a way. My dear lady of the beautiful garden, 
 I owe all that to you. At first I was afraid of 
 Captain Goby. I told Lord Bradstock so the other 
 day. I'm afraid I left him under a false impres- 
 sion as to my feelings to Goby, by the way. I'm 
 quite proud of Goby. He says I am really a pow- 
 erful man, and he made me row till I was worn out. 
 And then he insisted that I should use Sandow's 
 exerciser. I own I did it with reluctance. I pointed 
 out to Goby that I did not wish to look like Mr. 
 Sandow. Goby always stopped by the posters in 
 which Mr. Sandow is lifting ten tons or so, and 
 pointed out certain muscles to me as ideals. I was 
 recalcitrant, for, although I admire Mr. Sandow 
 immensely, I think muscle can be overdone. How- 
 ever, I used the machine, which is ingenious and 
 elastic, and only dangerous if the hook comes out 
 of the wall, and I've found I rather like it. I should 
 miss it now. I think it imparts a certain vigour 
 to verse, if not overdone. Oh — " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 85 
 
 For in came Bob. He rushed at Pen and kissed 
 her hair, and then bounced at the poet. 
 
 " I say is it true the bulldog bit you ? I saw Goby 
 yesterday in the park, and he said so," asked Bob, 
 in great excitement. 
 
 " It is true," said the poet. 
 
 Penelope shook her head at the late owner of 
 the dog. 
 
 " Oh, Bob ! Mr. de Vere, I'm very sorry." 
 
 " So was I," said De Vere. 
 
 " Where did he bite you? " asked Bob, anxiously. 
 " Was it the arm or the leg ? And did he hang 
 on like a proper bulldog? Baker says that if a 
 bulldog once gets hold, you have to use a red-hot 
 poker to make him let go. Did you use a red-hot 
 poker?" 
 
 " He only snapped and fetched blood," said De 
 Vere. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Bob, " I always thought he wasn't 
 a real good bulldog." 
 
 " At any rate, he bit the Irish terrier," said the 
 poet. " I mean the one you sold to me for three 
 pounds." 
 
 " I'm glad he did, sir. That Irish terrier, though 
 he's splendidly bred, Baker says, has an awful tem- 
 per and is very troublesome. Does Rollo, the re- 
 triever, howl much at night, sir? " 
 
86 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Oh, not so very much," said De Vere. " It's 
 only when the moon is near the full that he does 
 his best." 
 
 " I never thought of that," said Bob, " but now 
 I remember that it was very moony when I sent 
 him over to you. Baker said you'd like him. His 
 kennel is next to Baker's house." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to Baker," said De Vere. 
 " But the tail of the Borzois is still bald. Bob." 
 
 Bob opened his eyes wide. 
 
 " Oh, dear, I thought you would have cured him 
 by now ; and how about his bronchitis ? " 
 
 " That's better, I hope and trust," said the poet. 
 And Penelope, who was very greatly touched by 
 his kindness to all these dogs, sent Bob into the 
 library. 
 
 " It's so good of you to be kind to Bob," she 
 said. " Bob's a dear, and he adores me. He says 
 that he's going to live with me always, even when 
 I'm married." 
 
 " Oh ! " gasped De Vere. " We were talking 
 about Goby, I think, when dear Bob came in. You'll 
 find him much improved, I'm sure, my dear Lady 
 Penelope. He has read a great deal of Shelley 
 and Keats and Browning with me. He was es- 
 pecially struck with ' Sordello.' I read it to him 
 and he sat with his hand to his forehead taking 
 
AriTHWR WIUUI^M BTaoWfJ - 
 
 AUSTIN DE VERB 
 He wrote poetry, and abhorred bulldogs and motor-cars 
 
LADY PENELOPE 87 
 
 it all in. And every now and again he said, ' Great 
 Scott ! ' which is his way of expressing wonderment 
 and admiration. I do not know its origin. I've 
 written to Doctor Murray to ask him if he knows. 
 And Goby, oh, yes, you'll find him improved. I've 
 done my best with himt, and I've really struggled 
 hard. Any improvement you notice is, I really be- 
 lieve, under you and Providence, due to me." 
 
 And when he went, Penelope sat thinking. 
 
 " The poor dear, how nicely he took the bulldog 
 bites and the howling of the retriever. I think — 
 I think I could almost love him ! " 
 
 And that afternoon and evening she saw Bramber 
 and Carteret Williams and Jimmy Carew and Gor- 
 don, and they were all most marvellously improved. 
 Bramber was alert and bright, and began to show 
 that he had some ambition in him, and, if he did 
 not tell Penelope his exact mind about Plant, he 
 did show some little appreciation of the American's 
 qualities. 
 
 " Associating with him has done you good," said 
 Pen. " I see it has. You liveid far too much for 
 yourself. Lord Bramber. I cannot endure selfish- 
 ness." 
 
 " I'm not selfish any more, I think," said Bram- 
 ber. " I rather like Plant. He seems a man, take 
 him all around. He is abrupt, perhaps, and brutal. 
 
88 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 I own I've found him trying, and he says things 
 one finds it hard to forgive." 
 
 " Yes, he told me," said Pen, dehghtedly. " Oh, 
 he told me he said you ought to be beaten severely, 
 and he said you took it very nicely. Did you?" 
 
 Bramber bit his lip. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " That's right," said Pen. " Oh, I'm improving 
 you all so much. You've no idea how much im- 
 proved you are. Mr. Mytton said he'd make some- 
 thing out of you. Lord Bramber." 
 
 "Did he really?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. He said he made fair successes out 
 of very much worse material. ~ 
 
 " He's quite a dear," she sighed, when he was 
 gone, but, before she could add that she might 
 almost love him, Carew and Williams came in to- 
 gether. And before she could greet them, Gordon 
 came, too. Williams eyed him with strange fe- 
 rocity, for he was by nature a hater of Hebrews, 
 and wanted to dust the floor with him. Pen, who 
 was as quick as Irghtning, caught his glances and 
 said to him, sweetly : 
 
 " I think you would get on nicely with Mr. 
 Gordon." 
 
 And Williams blenched visibly. 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't leave Carew," he said. "I'm 
 
LADY PENELOPE 89 
 
 deep in art, veiy deep; I adore it. Carew has 
 introduced me to several Academicians, and I have 
 bought a box of paints. One Academician took 
 me home with him and showed me his pictures. 
 He doesn't agree with Jimmy altogether, and he 
 says Jimmy will alter his opinions presently. His 
 idea is that when a man is an A. R. A., he is only 
 beginning, you see. He also explained to me the 
 attitude of the R. A. with regard to the Chantrey 
 Bequest. He says that if they found a good pic- 
 ture not by an Academician, they would buy it, 
 which is interesting, isn't it? He was painting a 
 picture called ' War,' and wanted my opinion. I 
 said I'd ask Jimmy, because I didn't know anything 
 about war except what I'd seen. I don't know 
 why he was chuffy about it. I find artists get chuflfy 
 and huffy very quick, and I don't know what for. 
 Do you think there will be war soon ? " 
 
 Penelope didn't know, and said she wanted eter- 
 nal peace and happiness for every one, and meant 
 having it if it could be got by any legitimate influ- 
 ence. 
 
 "War is horrible!" 
 
 " It is," said Carew, who joined in just here, 
 after getting away from Gordon, whO' told him 
 to buy Hittites at 3%. " War is horrid. Williams 
 is always talking of it." 
 
90 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I'm not," said Williams, angrily. " I want 
 peace, eternal peace and happiness for every one." 
 
 " Ah, so do I," put in Gordon. " My idea is to 
 have a peaceful life, far from the roar of London, 
 in a deep green vale, where I shall hear no one talk- 
 ing of shares, and where mines are unknown, and 
 there are no Chinese or crushing reports. Why 
 is it that most reports from mines are crushing? 
 I wish I knew." 
 
 " Ah, how sweet it would all be," said beautiful 
 Penelope. " You could keep cows, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " I adore them," said Gordon. " There is a breed 
 without horns, isn't there?" 
 
 " They look incomplete," said Jimmy. 
 
 "What are you painting now?" asked Pen. 
 
 " I'm not really painting, I'm modelling in clay, 
 as you told me," said the obsequious lover. " Don't 
 you remember saying I was to model in clay? I'm 
 doing Williams in clay. He looks very well in it. 
 I'm also doing a bull going at a gate. When I 
 get tired of Williams, I do the bull, and when I'm 
 fatigued by the bull I go back to Williams." 
 
 " And are they like ? " asked Penelope. 
 
 " Oh, exactly," replied Carew. 
 
 And the interesting conversation was intemipted 
 by Chloe and Ethel. But Penelope said to herself 
 that they were all dears. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 91 
 
 " Mr. Williams is greatly improved," she mur- 
 mured happily. " And Mr. Carew looks more 
 healthy and less engrossed in himself. I was aw- 
 fully glad to hear Mr. Gordon speak like that about 
 a peaceful life." 
 
 And Williams slipped Carew on the door-step 
 and went to his club. He roared of war till two 
 o'clock in the morning, and then got three out-of- 
 work war correspondents in the comer and told 
 them the great story of his love. But Jimmy went 
 down to Chelsea, and damned modelling in clay 
 to other impressionist painters, and had a real good 
 time. As for Gordon of the " deep green vale," 
 he went home and found a clerk waiting with a 
 bundle of cables from all quarters of the mining 
 globe. He sent a wire to Bramber to be let ofif 
 an engagement to hear a debate on drains. 
 
 On the whole, every one was tolerably happy, 
 if we do not include Titania and the retriever who 
 howled at nights. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It is possible that Penelope never enjoyed herself 
 so much as she did at this period. She was so busy 
 that she had no time to worry; her team took all 
 her time. She was young, she was beautiful, she 
 was adored, she was popular, she was even notori- 
 ous. A dozen reporters dogged her footsteps, and 
 when they lost her they followed her lovers. They 
 haunted her door-step armed with kodaks; they 
 invented paragraphs; they hunted her men and 
 her maids. They made love to the girls, and se- 
 duced the men into neighbouring bars. One news- 
 paper man, who belonged to the Mayfair Daily, 
 got into her establishment as a footman, and was 
 discovered by the butler drawing Penelope at din- 
 ner when he should have been drawing corks. A 
 search in his clothes revealed some pencils and a 
 note-book and another book of drawings. They 
 were of such a character that the reporter was put 
 outside into the street. The butler could have for- 
 given the sketch of his mistress : there was one 
 of himself that no man could forgive. 
 
LADY PENELOPE- 93 
 
 The great desire of all these men was to spot the 
 winner. Penelope's maid, Harriet Weekes, who 
 was more or less engaged to Timothy Bunting, the 
 groom (a sad mesalliance, by the way), found it 
 impossible to go out without being accosted respect- 
 fully by a new admirer, who tried to lead the con- 
 versation around to her mistress. 
 
 " If you please, my lady, another of them spoke 
 to me to-day. I hope, my lady, you don't think it 
 my fault," said Weekes. 
 
 " What do they say ? " asked Penelope, curiously. 
 She took great interest in the manners and customs 
 of other classes, perhaps with a view of altering 
 them when she got time. 
 
 " Oh, my lady, they always say the same thing. 
 I think men are very much the same all over the 
 world. They say ' It's a fine day,' even if it's rain- 
 ing, and of course it is, and they say they want 
 to walk a little way with me (begging your par- 
 don), and that I am very beautiful, and that they 
 have long loved me, if you please, my lady, and 
 have been trying to speak about it for years. And 
 I tell 'em I don't want 'em, and I don't, to be sure, 
 though one (he's on the Piccadilly Circus Gazette) 
 is a very handsome man with a heagle's glance, 
 dressed in gray tweeds. Arid they won't be put oflf, 
 I assure you, my lady. Men on newspapers are 
 
94 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 hextremely persevering with a fine flow of lan- 
 guage. And if, being persuaded to take a little 
 walk, for they are difficult to put off by trade, I 
 do take one, they begin to ask, begging your par- 
 don, I'm sure, my lady, if I am your sister, and 
 I'm sure I'm as like you as a butterfly is to a beetle, 
 as Mr. Bunting says, though he adores the ground 
 I walk on, if he's to be believed, which I'm not sure 
 of yet, and the butler is very angry with me about 
 the whole affair. And one, who said he was the 
 editor of the Times, which I don't believe in the 
 least, because it doesn't seem likely, does it, my 
 lady, that the editor of the Times would do such 
 things himself? said he wanted to marry me and 
 put me on the staff as his lovely bride. I must say 
 he spoke most beautifully, and he said he knew Cap- 
 tain Goby, and also Mr. Gordon, and he said they 
 were getting thin he thought. And another, quite 
 the gentleman, though by his trousers poor and care- 
 ful, said he owned most of the Daily Telegraph. 
 And I couldn't help looking at his clothes. He 
 was very quick, and said that was owing to the 
 competition of the half-penny papers. Would I 
 save the Daily Telegraph from himpending ruin 
 by telling him which it would be, he said. And 
 I said flatly that I wouldn't. I never saw such 
 
LADY PENELOPE 95 
 
 wicked impudence. Oh, yes, my lady, your hair's 
 done now, and it's as lovely as a dream." 
 
 And, as Miss Weekes finished, she wondered, 
 quite as much as any of the newspaper men, who 
 it was to be. 
 
 " It's my belief," she said to Timothy, a little 
 later, " that my lady is beginning to incline to one 
 of 'em. I've noticed she's quieter like and more 
 gentle. And there's a soft sadness in her eye and 
 a colour that comes and goes." 
 
 " There ain't one of the biling worthy of her," 
 said Timothy, bitterly. " But there. Miss Weekes, 
 there ain't no man worthy of a real beautiful, good 
 lidy. A fair wonder how I dares to hope that some 
 day far off, when motor-cars has killed every 'orse, 
 you'll be Mrs. Bunting." 
 
 " It's a great come down, Tim," said Harriet. 
 " Mr. Gubbles says he wonders, too." 
 
 " If he wasn't the butler, and old, I'd plug 'im," 
 said Timothy, crossly. " It's all right for me to 
 wonder, but he ain't in it." 
 
 " Ah, but class distinctions is hard to get over, 
 Mr. Bunting," said Harriet. "You must pardon 
 a butler's feelings. Even Mr. Gubbles has his feel- 
 ings. And he agrees with you that there's no one 
 but a duke ought to marry our dear lady. And 
 she demeaning herself (if I dare say so) with Acad- 
 
96 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 emicians and war correspondencies and Jew men; 
 not but what Mr. Gordon is very gentlemanly and 
 generous. Only yesterday, Mr. Bunting, he says 
 to me when he met me outside, ' Do you read ? ' 
 And I says, ' Yes, sir,' being some flustered, and 
 he says, ' You read that' And it was a five-pound 
 note. And he adds something about ' your vote and 
 hinfluence.' But I can't do it, Mr. Bunting, I can't. 
 If it was Captain Goby, I might, and if it was young 
 Lord Bramber I might more so, and even if it was 
 Mr. de Vere, with a duke remote in his family, but 
 for a Jewish man I can't. So I said, ' Thank you, 
 sir,' and he went oflf. But some one is beginnin' to 
 rise up in my lady's mind, I saw it plainly when I 
 was dressing her. It would be worth more than 
 five pounds to know who is risin'." 
 
 " Yes," said Timothy. " 'Ow much would it 
 run to, do you think ? " 
 
 " I believe it would be worth a public 'ouse." 
 
 "Beer and spirits?" asked Timothy, eagerly. 
 
 " And a corner 'ouse at that," replied Harriet, 
 nodding her head. 
 
 " Oh, 'Arriet," said Timothy, with a gasp, " you 
 fairly dazzle me." 
 
 The newspaper men had dazzled Harriet. 
 
 But indeed what she said seemed true to her. 
 And it seemed true to Lord Bradstock, who had, 
 
LADY PENELOPE 97 
 
 like the man of the Circus Gazette, an eagle's 
 glance. 
 
 " She has been playing fair," said Bradstock, 
 " but one of them is drawing ahead, Titania." 
 
 " Good heavens, who is he, and how do you 
 know ? " asked Titania. 
 
 " It's intuition," said Bradstock, " intuition com- 
 bined with, or founded on, a little observation. 
 She's different, Titania. She takes no interest in 
 the London County Council." 
 
 " You don't say so! " cried the duchess, in alarm. 
 
 Bradstock nodded. 
 
 " It's a fact. I asked her if she had read the 
 last debate, and she hadn't, and when I mentioned 
 the Deceased Wife's Sister she yawned." 
 
 " That looks bad," said Titania, " for only a 
 week ago she raved about her, and Goring said 
 he'd vote for her if she insisted on it. And she did 
 insist, and tears came in her eyes about the poor 
 thing." 
 
 "Well, I told you so," said Bradstock, "and 
 I do hope it isn't Williams. I'm afraid of Williams. 
 He's capable of knocking her down and carrying 
 her off on his shoulder. Do you remember with 
 what joy she read us the account of the savage 
 tribe somewhere (was it the east of London?) 
 where they do that?" 
 
98 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " It made me shiver with apprehension," said 
 Titania. " Oh, if she was only married safely to 
 a good duke, one not like Goring ! Is there a good 
 duke, Augustin?" 
 
 " Several, so I'm informed," replied Bradstock, 
 " and there are quite a number of good earls, some 
 quite admirable. But I wish you'd get hold of 
 Chloe Cadwallader, and find out something." 
 
 Titania bristled like a porcupine. 
 
 " There is no need to find out an3rthing about 
 Mrs. Cadwallader," she said. " If Penelope wasn't 
 too dangerousl)'^ innocent to be single, she would 
 not have anything to do with her." 
 
 " I'm sure the poor woman was only silly," said 
 Bradstock. " Haven't we all been silly in our time, 
 Titania? Didn't I marry twice? And you mar- 
 ried once." 
 
 " I'll speak to her," said the duchess, hastily. 
 " If we can only find out who it is, we can, I'm 
 sure, prevent her doing as she says and making 
 a secret marriage of it. The scandal would be 
 horrid. Oh, Augustin, suppose she did it, and had 
 a large family suddenly. I should die of it." 
 
 " Good heavens," said Bradstock, " you alarm 
 me, Titania, you are so gloomy. She would surely 
 acknowledge her marriage then?" 
 
 Titania threw up her hands. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 99 
 
 " Augustin, I'm sure of nothing with Penelope. 
 I cannot answer for her. She will bring my gray 
 hairs with sorrow — " 
 
 " To cremation," said Bradstock. " She has in- 
 vested money in a crematorium." 
 
 " I thought it was dairy-farming," cried Titania. 
 " Oh, but think, Augustin, of the horror of the 
 situation as it might be! What would her Royal 
 Highness say to me? Imagine her marrying and 
 keeping it dark, and having, as I say, a large family 
 suddenly without a husband producible on the mo- 
 ment to answer natural inquiries! Imagine her 
 saying then that her marriage was her own busi- 
 ness, and her certificate of marriage firmly withheld 
 by a young and obstinate mother in a safe ! She has 
 a safe. She has a safe, Augustin, with many keys. 
 I wish I could get at it, and find things out that 
 are in it. I wish I knew a burglar, a good honest 
 and reliable burglar, married and trustworthy, that 
 I could send in to break it open. Most girls have 
 a desk with an ordinary key, easy to open, but 
 Penelope has a Lord Milner's safe with patent 
 things to keep it shut. It's not natural, it's wicked. 
 Oh, I did hope, when I found out what the duke 
 was like and what his ways were, that I knew the 
 extent of my troubles, but there is no end to them, 
 and Penelope begins where Goring leaves off." 
 
lOO LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Is it as bad as that? " asked Bradstock. 
 
 " And then there's Bob — " 
 
 " By Jove," said Augustin, " I beheve Bob's the 
 key to the safe! Titania, he's more likely to find 
 something out than any one." 
 
 Titania nodded solemnly. 
 
 " Augustin, you are right. I'll speak to Bob." 
 
 " Let me do it." 
 
 " No, no, Augustin. He is very quick and sus- 
 picious, and he loves her, he adores her. This re- 
 quires a feminine intelligence. I will work upon 
 him quietly." 
 
 And she went away to work upon Bob quietly. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Now Titania believed that she was very smart 
 and very clever, and that she would do things subtly 
 and do them better than Bradstock or a barrister, 
 even if he was a K. C. And as it is the most 
 invariably weak point in people that they think 
 young people fools, or at any rate easily hood- 
 winked, she really believed that Bob, her dearly 
 beloved young scoundrel of a grandson, would be 
 as easy to work on as butter. And yet she had the 
 sense to see that Bob adored Penelope. 
 
 " I am very greatly troubled about Penelope, 
 Bob," she said to him, as soon as she got him 
 alone. 
 
 " Don't you worry about Pen, granny," replied 
 Bob, cheerfully, " she can take care of herself. 
 Why, she can drive a motor-car now up to about 
 thirty miles an hour, and Geordie Smith says she's 
 all there. And so does old Guth. He had long 
 talks with her, and he says she has brains. I tell 
 you old Guth knows 'em when he sees 'em." 
 
I02 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Titania nodded. 
 
 " Oh, I know she is clever, dear, but her ideas 
 are so extraordinary." 
 
 " Ain't they ? " said Bob. " I do wonder which 
 of 'em she'll marry, don't you?" 
 
 " Indeed I do," replied his grandmother. " Have 
 you any idea. Bob, which she likes best ? " 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " Not me. I wish it was Goby; old Goby is a 
 ripping good sort. He knows what's what, does 
 old Goby." 
 
 Goby tipped him freely and frequently, and Bob 
 sold him a spavined pony, aged fifteen years. 
 
 " He's a bit of a fool, of course," said Bob, 
 thoughtfully. " Do you know, granny, he isn't the 
 judge of horses you'd think he is ? " 
 
 " Does Penelope ever confide in you, Bob ? " 
 asked Titania. 
 
 There was a touch of anxiety in her voice that 
 the boy felt at once. He put his head on one side 
 and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He 
 didn't answer the question. 
 
 " I say, granny, don't you think I can have a 
 bigger allowance now? I find mine much too 
 little. K I had ten shillings a week more, I could 
 get on for a bit." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 103 
 
 " You shall have it," said Titania. " Does she 
 ever confide in you. Bob? " 
 
 " Some," said Bob, carelessly. 
 
 "Which do you think she likes best?" asked 
 Titania. 
 
 " I don't know," said Bob, " but I dare say I 
 could find out. I say, should you be very angry 
 if it was Gordon ? " 
 
 Titania uttered a little scream. 
 
 " Great heavens. Bob, I should die of it ! " 
 
 Bob sat down and looked at her. 
 
 " He's not bad, granny, not half mean, oh, no, not 
 at all!" 
 
 He had given Bob as much as he gave Miss 
 Harriet Weekes about three days before. 
 
 " I rather like him," said Bob. " Pen thinks he's 
 much improved since she put him in harness with 
 the Frenchy. It touched her his going up in a 
 balloon. I say, may I go up in a balloon ? Rivaulx 
 said I might." 
 
 " No ! " screamed his grandmother. " Oh, Bob, 
 you wouldn't ? " 
 
 " I won't if you don't want me to," sighed Bob, 
 " but it's a horrid disappointment. He says going 
 up in one is jolly, and London underneath is rip- 
 ping. If I don't, will you ask grandfather to give 
 me another hunter ? " 
 
104 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Yes, of course," said poor Titania ; " but 
 what do you think about Penelope? Could you 
 find out anything, Bob, if I let you go and stay 
 with her?" 
 
 Bob's eyes gleamed. 
 
 " Rather," he said, " of course. But I needn't 
 worry about old Guth if I do ? I've been working 
 very hard, and I think a holiday would do him 
 good, too. I'm very much overworked. Do I look 
 tired, granny ? I always feel tired now in my head. 
 Guth says a breakdown from overwork is much 
 worse than most fatal diseases." 
 
 " You shall go to Penelope if she'll have you," 
 said his anxious grandmother. " Do you have 
 headaches, Bob ? " 
 
 "Not headaches," said Bob, "I shouldn't call 
 'em headaches exactly. They're pains, and old 
 Guth says he had 'em when he was at Oxford. 
 They get worse, he says, and then the breakdown 
 comes, and you have to take a very long rest. I'll 
 go on working if you like, though." 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " You shall go to your cousin's," said Titania, 
 " and my dear, dear Bob, keep your eye on Penel- 
 ope and tell me all you discover. Her ideas are 
 very strange, you know, and we are all so anxious 
 about her future." , 
 
LADY PENELOPE 105 
 
 " So am I," said Bob. " If she married the 
 wrong one I shall be out of it. I couldn't get on 
 well with old De Vere, and if she married him 
 I'm quite convinced he . wouldn't buy any more 
 dogs. I want her to marry Goby or Bramber. 
 But I think Bramber is rather mean in some ways, 
 and very thoughtless of others. I told him I wanted 
 some salmon fishing at his father's place in Scot- 
 land, and he's said nothing about it since." 
 
 " I shouldn't mind Lord Bramber so much," said 
 Titania. " But I'm afraid it won't be Bramber." 
 
 " Cheer up," said her grandson. " I'll look after 
 her. But don't forget about the extra ten shillings 
 and the horse. Could you give me the ten shillings 
 for six weeks now, granny ? " 
 
 And he went off to Penelope's house and marched 
 in on her. 
 
 " Pen, I'm coming to stay with you if you'll have 
 me," he said. 
 
 " Of course I will," said Penelope. " But how 
 did you manage it ? " 
 
 " I'm overwiorked," said Bob, solemnly, " and 
 sitting on chairs and learning Latin don't agree 
 with me. I want more open air, I think, or I shall 
 get consumption." 
 
 He was fat and ruddy and as strong as a bull- 
 calf. He put his arm around Pen's neck. 
 
io6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I say, Pen, I do love you," he said. " I think 
 it's rot I'm so young, or I'd have married you 
 myself. Granny's in an awful state about you. 
 Pen. She asked me if I knew who it was you 
 liked best, and she threw out hints a foot wide that 
 I was to find out if I could." 
 
 "Indeed," said Pen; "and what did you say?" 
 
 Bob chuckled. 
 
 " I said the best thing would be for me to come 
 and stay with you. And that's why I'm here. But 
 I say, Pen, I'll never sneak, not even if you marry 
 Mr. de Vere. Granny's raised my allowance ten 
 bob a week, and I'm to have another hunter. I 
 got too big for the pony, so I sold him to Goby; 
 Goby looked very melancholy, but he said he wanted 
 him badly for some reason. And he said he hoped 
 I'd be his friend always. I like poor old Goby. I 
 think I'll go into the park. Pen. My things will 
 be here by and by. Couldn't we go to the theatre 
 to-night? There's a ripping farce with a fight in 
 it at the Globe. And will you have plum pudding 
 for dinner, and ice meringues ? " 
 
 He went into the park and met Williams there. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Williams, where's Mr. Carew ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Damn Carew," said Williams. " I don't know 
 where he is, and I don't want to." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 107 
 
 " I'm staying at my cousin's," said Bob. 
 
 "At Lady Penelope's?" asked the war corre- 
 spondent. 
 
 " That's it," said Bob. " Would you like to know 
 what theatre we are going to to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Williams, eagerly. 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I don't suppose I ought to tell you. Tell me 
 something very exciting about some bloody war, 
 Mr. Williams." 
 
 Williamis grunted. 
 
 " Or an execution. Have you ever seen heads 
 chopped off with a sword ? " 
 
 " Often in China, Bob." 
 
 " I say, what fun ! " said Bob. " Tell me all about 
 it. Is it true they smoke cigarettes while they 
 are being chopped? And do they mind? Could I 
 see one if I went out? I say, if you'll describe it, 
 I'll see if I can tell you about the theatre." 
 
 Carteret Williams described it. 
 
 "Seventeen!" said Bob. "By Jove, I'll tell 
 this to Penelope. She'll be greatly interested. Do 
 you think I could be a war correspondent, Mr. 
 Williams? I'd like to be, because Latin wouldn't 
 be needed. I'm awfully sorry for war correspond- 
 ents in those days when no one but the Roman chaps 
 did any fighting. I've enjoyed that story of yours 
 
io8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 more than anything I've heard for years, Mr. Will- 
 iams. When they write about these things in books, 
 why don't they describe the blood the way you do? 
 It's the Globe we're going to; there's a ripping 
 farce there. I wish they would do an execution 
 of pirates. I say, don't tell Pen I told you; she 
 might be waxy with me. Think of something else 
 to tell me. Good-bye." 
 
 And he went to look at the ducks. 
 
 " Williams is all right," said Bob ; " I wonder 
 if it is Williams." 
 
 And at home Pen began to know who it was. 
 And Ethel Mytton began to know it was some 
 one. And so did Chloe Cadwallader. 
 
 Miss Weekes was right, there is no mistake about 
 that. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Penelope was certainly on the verge of being 
 in love, to go no farther than that. She discovered 
 that certain of the horde had a curious tendency to 
 disappear from her mind, though none of them 
 lost any opportunity of appearing in her drawing- 
 room. She was so sorry for those she didn't love 
 that her kindness to them increased. Her dread 
 of the one she began to adore forbade her to show 
 how soft she had grown to him. Not even Ethel 
 and Chloe together could make anything out of it, 
 which shows every one, of course, that they were 
 two simple idiots, or that Penelope had a very 
 remarkable character. It seems to me that the 
 latter must have been the case, for Chloe was no 
 fool in spite of the folly she had shown on one 
 particular occasion. 
 
 " Am I a fool ? " she asked Ethel Mytton, " or 
 
 is Penelope the deepest, darkest mystery of modern 
 
 times? I am convinced she has made her choice." 
 
 "Oh, which do you think?" asked Ethel, with 
 109 
 
no LADY PENELOPE 
 
 much anxiety. " Do you — do you think it is Cap- 
 tain Goby?" 
 
 " I don't know," rephed Chloe ; " it may be. I 
 give it up. I shall ask Bob." 
 
 " I've asked him," said Ethel, " and he won't say 
 anything. I think he knows more than we do. 
 He's a sweet boy, but just as cunning as a ferret." 
 
 But of course Bob knew no more than they did, 
 though he would never own to it. He threw out 
 casual hints that he was wiser than his elders, and 
 the only one he was in the least frank with was 
 Lord Bradstock, who asked him to lunch and was 
 infinitely amused with him. 
 
 " I say. Lord Bradstock, if you'll keep it dark, 
 I'll tell you something ! " 
 
 Bradstock promised to keep it as dark as a dry 
 plate. 
 
 " All these women think I know who Penelope's 
 sweet on, and I don't. And, what's more, I 
 wouldn't tell if I did. Would you? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Bradstock. 
 
 " You can't think how I'm chased," said Bob. 
 " Ethel Mytton is the worst. She's dead nuts on 
 poor Goby, and Goby doesn't see her when Pen's 
 in the room. And Mrs. Cadwallader, she's always 
 mugging up to mfe with chocolates or something to 
 get things out of me. And the newspaper Johnnies 
 
LADY PENELOPE m 
 
 are on me, too. And Williams takes me out, and 
 Carew (I don't care for Carew), and I like Goby 
 best. Mr. de Vere is a rotter, don't you think? 
 The marquis was at Pen's, and he said that if Pen 
 didn't marry him he'd go up in a balloon and never 
 come back. I want him to take me in a balloon. 
 Don't you think I might go? Granny's cross when 
 I speak of it. I've always wanted to go in a balloon, 
 and I think it hard lines I can't go because she 
 doesn't like 'em. Pen won't go, either. She thinks 
 that if she did, Rivaulx would never let her come 
 down again, or something. I daresay he wouldn't; 
 he's quite mad, I think, sometimies. Baker says 
 all Frenchmen are mad. Do you think so? " 
 
 Bradstock didn't know; he wasn't sure of it, 
 though he owned to thinking it was possible. 
 
 " After all. Bob," he said, when Bob went at last, 
 " and after all I dare say Penelope won't marry any 
 of them." 
 
 And of course that is what a good many people 
 said. They said it was Lady Penelope's fun. The 
 Marchioness of Rigsby, who settled every one's 
 affairs, said so to Titania. 
 
 "Why wasn't she beaten, my dear, when she 
 was young?" asked the marchioness. "I was 
 severely beaten ; it did me good ; it gave me sense. 
 I always used to beat my girls with the flat of 
 
112 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 my hand, and now they are most sensible and mar- 
 ried excellently, although I own they are not 
 beauties. I can afford to own it now. I shall 
 speak to Penelope myself." 
 
 She did it and was routed. Pen was direct; 
 she beat no one, and certainly did not beat about 
 the bush. She had no fear of the world, and 
 dreaded no marchioness. 
 
 " I'll attend to my own affairs, thank you," said 
 Pen. 
 
 " My dear love," said the marchioness, " you 
 ought to have been beaten while you were still young. 
 This conduct of yours is a scandal. It is merely 
 a means of attracting public notice. And I am 
 old enough to speak about it. I will speak about 
 it." 
 
 Pen left her speaking and went out. 
 
 " She is distinctly ■ rude," said the marchioness, 
 viciously. " I wish she was about ten and I was 
 her mother ! " 
 
 But Pen could not endure being spoken to. 
 
 " I love him," said Pen, " and what business is 
 it of theirs? If they disapprove I shall hate them! 
 If they approve I shall hate them worse. Oh, I 
 almost wish I was going to marry some one who 
 would make them die ! " 
 
 " Mark me," said the marchioness to Titania, 
 
LADY PENELOPE 113 
 
 " this will end in her marrying a groom. Has she a 
 good-looking one ? " 
 
 ■Titania started. 
 
 " Oh, a very good-looking one," she cried. 
 
 " What did I say ? Remember what I said," said 
 the marchioness, darkly. " No really good girl 
 could act as she does. She will marry a groom ! " 
 
 She went around saying so in revenge for 
 Penelope's want of politeness. The journalists took 
 Timothy Bunting's photograph, and Miss Weekes 
 was proud till she heard the dreadful rumour. 
 Timothy beat a man on a paper, and Bob was 
 delighted. Titania took to her bed, and said the 
 end of the world was at hand. Bradstock laughed 
 till he cried, and cut the marchioness in the park. 
 Her husband was very much pleased at this, and 
 said it served her right. Chloe Cadwallader wrote 
 her first letter since the scandal to Cadwallader in 
 the Rockies, for she felt he would be the only man 
 in the world who hadn't heard of it. Ethel lay 
 wait for Captain Goby, and asked him to kill some 
 one. There was not a soul in London who did 
 not hear of it. And then Timothy quarrelled with 
 Harriet Weekes. He went to Penelope, and with 
 a crimson face and bated breath and much humble- 
 ness asked to be sent down to the country. 
 
114 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "You shall go," said Penelope, with great de- 
 cision. " I can trust you, I know." 
 
 " My lady, you can trust me with untold gold 
 and diamonds," replied Timothy Bunting, almost 
 with tears. 
 
 " I shall send you to a house of mine you have 
 never heard of," said Penelope. " And I expect 
 you, Bunting, not to write to any one from there. 
 I do not wish any one to know I live there." 
 
 " I'll not tell the Harchbishop of Canterbury 
 'imself, my lady, not if he begged me on his knees, 
 with lighted candles in his 'and," said Bunting. 
 " And, above all, my lady, I'll not tell it to Miss 
 Weekes. Her and me 'ave quarrelled, and 'ave 
 parted for hever. And I Wouldn't trust her, my 
 lady, not farther than you can sling a bull by the 
 tail, my lady. I've trusted her to my rueing, so 
 I have, and if she finds out hanything she'll sell it 
 to the Times, which 'ave promised her a public 
 'ouse at a comer." 
 
 This revelation of the methods of Printing House 
 Square shocked Penelope dreadfully. 
 
 " Oh, I always thought the Times was a respect- 
 able journal," she said. 
 
 But Timothy Bunting shook his head. 
 
 " Their sportin' tips ain't a patch on many of the 
 penny papers, my lady. But don't you forget what 
 
LADY PENELOPE nS 
 
 I says of Miss Weekes. She's a serpent in your 
 boodore a-coiling everywhere, and speaking to 
 newspaper men outside the harea Hke an 'ouse- 
 maid. Not but that I knows an 'ousemaid far above 
 such dirty work, my lady." 
 
 A httle encouragement might have led hira to 
 say more about the housemaid who would not con- 
 descend to talk with journalists. But Penelope gave 
 him an address, verbally. 
 
 " You will go to this place to-morrow," she said. 
 " There are no horses now, but there will be next 
 week. I trust you to do what I tell you." 
 
 " Miss — my lady, I mean," said Timothy, 
 proudly, " I wouldn't reveal where I was if the 
 Hemperor of Germany crawled to me for that 
 purpose all along of the ground, making speeches 
 as he went." 
 
 Penelope smiled at her faithful henchman kindly, 
 and she wondered how it happened that he thought 
 of placing the emperor in such an absurd position; 
 a position, too, which was very unlikely. 
 
 " Now are you sure you remember. Bunting? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Miss Mackarness, Moat 'Ouse, near Spilsby, 
 Lincolnshire," repeated Timothy. 
 
 " And you will speak personally to Miss Mackar- 
 ness, who will give you every instruction," said 
 
ii6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 his young mistress. " I hope you don't drink, 
 Bunting? " 
 
 " Never/' said Bunting, promptly, " at least I 
 won't from now on till you give the word, my lady. 
 But, my lady, as I'm goin' from here I don't mind 
 revealin' to you that Mr. Gubbles does. Mr. Gub- 
 bles 'as been very unkind to me, and — " 
 
 " That will do," said Penelope. " Good-bye, 
 Bunting. I expect to see you in about a month. It 
 may be less." 
 
 " I 'opes, my lady, it will be much less," said the 
 groom, and as he went away he nodded his close- 
 cropped head. 
 
 " This is a damned rum start," he murmured. 
 " Wot's up, I wonder ? This 'ere Miss Mackamess 
 was 'ousekeeper at Upwell Castle, and I'm a Dutch- 
 man if any one of us 'as ever 'eard of Moat 'Ouse. 
 She's goin' to do it, as she said, goin' to be mar- 
 ried and keep it dark. Women is wonderful strange 
 and, so to speak, dreadful. I thot I knew 'Ar- 
 riet Weekes through and through, and she turned 
 out to be a serpent w'.ith false teeth, ready to sell 
 Lady Penelope to the Times. And my lady 'as 
 turned me round 'er finger. I'm knee-deep in secret 
 hoaths, and, without knowin' what I was doin', 
 I've swore off drink. Well, I always did like gin- 
 ger-beer ! " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 117 
 
 But he sighed all the same. And that after- 
 noon he packed up and disappeared, and no one 
 knew what had become of him. Neither he nor 
 any one of those who hunted for news had any 
 notion of the fame which would presently be his. 
 Nor did Penelope see quite what she had done when 
 this nice-looking young man suddenly vanished by 
 her orders. 
 
 But Penelope was in love. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Love is a pathological state which can only be 
 cured by one means. It is a disease, and robs the 
 most humourous of their humour. When Rabelais 
 was in love he no doubt wrote poems which he 
 afterward destroyed. When Dante was in love he 
 did the Paradiso. When he cheered up he wrote 
 the Inferno. Neither of these is any joke. But 
 then, Dante had no more humour than Penelope. 
 It can be imagined (or it cannot be imagined) how 
 unhumourous Pen became when she found she had 
 made her choice between Plant and De Vere and 
 Groby and Carew and Williams and Bramber and 
 Gordon and Rivaulx. She wept at night over those 
 she could not marry. And it added grief to grief 
 to think that the unmarried would probably relapse 
 into their evil ways. 
 
 " What can one poor girl do with so many ? " 
 she asked. " I'm sure they will turn around on me, 
 and once more follow their dreadful instincts ! And 
 they have improved so much ! " 
 
 ii8 
 
LADY PENELOPE "9 
 
 The result of her sorrow was such pity that every 
 poor wretch of them all was convinced she loved 
 him better and better. They were quite cheerful. 
 They looked at each other almost sympathetically. 
 They grieved for each other, and struggled on the 
 hard cinder-path of duty, with Penelope at least a 
 long lap ahead. The amount of good they did was 
 wonderful. Plant got his university started, Ri- 
 vaulx went over to Paris and asked Dreyfus to 
 dinner. Goby was deep in Imperial Yeomanry and 
 rifle ranges, Bramber spoke on every opportunity 
 in the House and voted with the insistence of a 
 whip. De Vere wrote a monograph on outdoor 
 sports, with an appendix on bulldogs. He also 
 owned that poetry was not everything, and went 
 so far as to say that the poet laureate was a very good 
 fellow. Gordon floated a company without any 
 water in the capital, and ran the whole affair with 
 absolute honesty and no waiver clause. Carew 
 learned to draw, and spoke sober truth about the 
 Chantry Bequest. 
 
 Williams never swore in public, and painted in 
 water-colours. And none of them played bridge or 
 went into good society. 
 
 " And when they know ? " said poor Penelope. 
 
 " I wonder if I ought not to sacrifice him and 
 myself on the altar of duty ? " said Pen. But she 
 
I20 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 was in love, and the motor-car in which she was to 
 disappear stood ready. She made weekly trips in 
 it with Bob. Sometimes they stayed away for three 
 days, sometimes even for a week. 
 
 " Oh, Bob, I'm so unhappy : so happy," said Pen. 
 
 And Bob looked at her critically. 
 
 " Well, you look stunning, anyhow," he replied, 
 " you get better looking every day, Pen. Old De 
 Vere said so. He let on that you were a cross be- 
 tween a lily and a rose, or some such rot. You mark 
 me. Pen, he'll go back to poetry if you marry him, 
 and give up dogs. I don't want him to do that. 
 Baker has some pups coming on, a new kind of 
 very savage dog, and I'm halves in 'em. Can't 
 you give me a tip as to whether it's De Vere? If 
 it is, I'll sell him one now, cheap." 
 
 But Pen looked beautiful and kept her mouth 
 shut. Neither Bob nor Titania nor Bradstock could 
 extract a word from her. And, nevertheless, the 
 whole world grew suspicious. The society papers 
 said she had made her choice. The sporting papers 
 gave tips. They said, " For the Lady Penelope 
 Stakes we give Plant or Bramber," or at least one of 
 them did. Others selected De Vere, and one rude 
 man said a rank outsider would get it. Of course 
 he didn't believe in Pen's word. But then, no one 
 did. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 121 
 
 And still Pen kept her teeth shut and was as 
 obstinate as a gfovernment mule to all persuasion. 
 Ethel cried and said : 
 
 "Oh, is it Captain Goby?" 
 
 Chloe laughed and laid traps for Penelope saying : 
 
 " Oh, by the way, I saw Lord Bramber just 
 now." 
 
 Or it might be De Vere or Carew or Williams. 
 But no one got a rise out of Penelope. 
 
 " I am entirely determined to give a lead to those 
 who wish to be married without publicity. I shall 
 found a society presently," said Penelope. 
 
 When Titania, whom nothing could discourage, 
 went at her furiously, Bradstock smiled. 
 
 " If she has a daughter, some day we shall see the 
 girl married in Westminster Abbey," said Brad- 
 stock. But even he was very curious. 
 
 " Have you found out anything yet. Bob ? " he 
 asked that young financier. 
 
 " I'm on the way," said Bob, " give me time. 
 Lord Bradstock. I feel sure it's not De Vere. He's 
 buying all the dogs I ofifer him. If he was sure, 
 he wouldn't." 
 
 But Bradstock wasn't certain. Penelope might 
 have no humour, but she was quite equal to ordering 
 De Vere to buy in order to blind Bob. 
 
 " I never thought of that," said Bob. " I frankly 
 
122 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 own Pen's a deal worse than Euclid. And I never 
 thought to say that of anything." 
 
 And upon a certain day in June, when June was 
 doing its best to live up to the poet's ideal, Pen 
 disappeared, by herself, leaving Bob at home with 
 Guthrie, wiho now came over each day to keep the 
 young vagabond doing something. She came back 
 after lunch, and Bob found her abnormally silent. 
 She had nothing to say, and there was a curious 
 far-off look in her eyes. Her interest in dogs was 
 nil ; she showed no appreciation of ferrets ; when he 
 spoke she said " Oh " and " Ah " and " what's that 
 you say ? " And Bob had no suspicion whatsoever, 
 just as clever people never have when they might be 
 expected to show their wisdom. 
 
 When she did speak, though, it was to the point. 
 
 " I think. Bob, it is time you went back to your 
 grandmother's," she declared, suddenly, and back 
 he went in spite of all his cajoleries. Pen was very 
 strange, he thought, and rather beastly. There cer- 
 tainly was a change in her, for she dismissed Har- 
 riet Weekes with a douceur which did not really 
 sweeten that lady's departure. 
 
 And in the afternoon Pen casually remarked to 
 Chloe that she was going out of town for three 
 days. When she said so the motor-car was at the 
 door, and Geordie Smith was there too. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 123 
 
 If Timothy Bunting had known that Smith was 
 as deep in his lady's confidence as he was himself, 
 he would have been jealous. But he must have 
 been, for Pen said to him, when they were out of 
 Piccadilly : 
 
 " How long will it take to get to Spilsby, Smith? " 
 
 " My lady, with this new racing-car I'll get there 
 when you like," replied Smith, firmly. 
 
 Pen remembered that Bob said Smith's ambi- 
 tion was to ride through the city regardless of fines. 
 
 " I wouldn't try to do it under three hours," 
 she said. 
 
 " Unless we are followed," said Smiith. " If we 
 are followed, my lady, may I let her go? " 
 
 " Yes," said Penelope. 
 
 Geordie Smith nodded to himself. 
 
 " Fines be damned, and legal limits ditto," said 
 Smith to himself; "wait, my darling, till we get 
 through the traffic." 
 
 He meant " darling " for his new car. He adored 
 it as much as he did his mistress. He used to 
 dream of it at night and had nightmares about it. 
 Dream ruffians cut up his tires ; he was in the mid- 
 dle of Salisbury Plain without petrol ; " she " re- 
 fused to spark ; he was held up by gigantic police- 
 men with stop watches the size of a church clock. 
 But now she moved under him smooth and cosy, 
 
124 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 with a vast reserve of power ; she was quick, swift, 
 docile, intelligent, fearless of policemen, careless 
 of the limping law. 
 
 " If my lady wants to go quick, I'm the man," 
 said Geordie. "But I wonder what's up?" 
 
 Geordie played the car as Joachim plays the 
 violin, or Paderewski the piano. She skated, she 
 swam, she shot like a water-beetle, she was respon- 
 sive to his lightest touch. He heard her music as 
 every engineer does, and found it as lovely as a 
 dream song. 
 
 " Oh, for a clear road," said the player. He 
 found some of it clear before they reached Barnet, 
 and then he fingered the keyboard, as it were, like 
 a master. 
 
 " Horses, horses," said Smith, " the poor miser- 
 able things ! Ain't I sorry for Tim Bunting ! Here 
 we go, my lady." 
 
 He broke the law magnificently, and with such 
 skill that Penelope wondered. But only once he ran 
 against the law in the shape of a policeman, north 
 of Hatfield, who saw him coming and signalled to 
 him to stop. 
 
 "Shall I?" said Smith. 
 
 " No! " shrieked Pen, against the tide of wind. 
 
 They passed him flying and saw him run as they 
 passed. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 125 
 
 " He'll wire to Hitchin and have us there," 
 said Smith. But he knew his roads. " Oh, will 
 he?" 
 
 He took the right fork of the roads at Welwyn 
 and roared through Stevenage to Baldock and 
 found the main road again at Sandy. They reached 
 Huntington, sixty miles from town, in an hour and 
 three quarters. 
 
 " And I've never let her out but once," said 
 Smith ; " she's a daisy ! " 
 
 The eighteen miles to Spilsborough they did at 
 a speed that made Penelope bend her head. She 
 felt wonderful: she was on a shooting-star. They 
 slackened on the outskirts of the cathedral city and 
 rolled through it delicately. She looked about her 
 and remembered the dear bishop who had christened 
 her when he was no more than a vicar. 
 
 " We'll go by Crowland and Spalding, Smith." 
 A car followed them out of Spilsborough, and 
 Smith, going easy, looked back and saw it. 
 
 " Catch us, my son," he said, contemptuously. 
 But when they were well clear of town and he 
 turned her loose, so to speak, Pen's nerve went, 
 or it appeared to go. 
 
 " Don't go so fast. Smith," she commanded. 
 
 And Smith obeyed sorrowfully. 
 
 " They can't stand it," he said ; " none of 'em 
 
126 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 can stand it really. They let on they can, but it's 
 no go. A few hot miles gives them the mulli- 
 grubs." 
 
 But nevertheless they were running over thirty 
 miles an hour. The car behind crawled up to them. 
 
 " All I've got to do, my lady, is to ask her to 
 shake 'em off, and away we go and leave 'em," he 
 suggested. 
 
 " Oh, no, no," said Pen. 
 
 At Spalding the pursuer, if he were one, was 
 not a hundred yards behind. But in the town 
 Smith got ahead. He did not see Penelope trem- 
 bling. Smith had taken a look at the one behind. 
 
 " There's power there," he said, savagely. " If 
 he lets her out and my lady squeals, I'm passed ! " 
 
 She did " squeal " the other side of Spalding, 
 but not for herself. The other car had to stop. 
 
 "That's done 'em," said Smith; "they're in the 
 ditch." He gained ten miles on them, and Penelope 
 wept. 
 
 And just as they were coming into Boston at an 
 easy gait. Smith turned and saw the other car com- 
 ing up behind like a meteor, with the dust astern 
 of her in a fume. 
 
 " That chap can drive after all," said Smith. 
 " Won't you try to let me get away from him be- 
 fore we get to Spilsby, my lady?" 
 
LADY PENELOPE 127 
 
 " I — I don't want to," said Pen. 
 
 And five miles outside of Spilsby the pursuing 
 car drew up with them. Two indistinguishable 
 monsters drove it, and through his glaring goggles 
 Smith glared at them as they came alongside. 
 
 " Stop," said Penelope, suddenly. " Stop, 
 Smith." 
 
 And the other car stopped too. 
 
 " I'll go on with the other car," said Penelope. 
 She took her place by the most unrecognizable por- 
 tent of the two, and disappeared in a sudden and 
 terrific cloud of dust. 
 
 " Damned if I know who it is, even now," said 
 Smith. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 It was Friday when Penelope disappeared from 
 London in a motor-car, and was carried off by a 
 motor pirate, unknown to any one, because he wore 
 a peak cap, a fur coat with the fur outside, and 
 gigantic goggles, making him resemble a diver or 
 a cuttlefish. 
 
 It was Monday when she returned to town in a 
 motor-car with Geordie Smith. And all the way 
 into town Geordie said: 
 
 " Blessed if I'd ha' thought it. I always reck- 
 oned it would have been one of the others. I lose 
 money on this, but if I do, it warms the cockles 
 of my heart to see my lady happy. Bless her sweet 
 face, I wish she'd leave the blooming world alone 
 and have a good time. I never set eyes on such 
 an aggravatin' beautiful sweet lady for interferin' 
 with men. Just as if the queen herself could alter 
 our ways! Women always gas that they can or 
 mean to, and they're just like hens with men for 
 
 ducks." 
 
 128 
 
LADY PENELOPE 129 
 
 If he had been a classical scholar he might have 
 remembered Ariadne up to her knees in the sea, 
 with her lover on the deep in a boat. 
 
 " When I saw who it was at Moat House," said 
 Geordie, " you could have knocked me endwise with 
 something less than a steel spanner. And that 
 horse-whipping ass of a Bunting was equal took 
 aback. For somehow we never spotted him as 
 likely to make the non-stop run. Humph, humph ! " 
 
 And he left Penelope at her house just in time 
 for afternoon tea. As she lay on the sofa she 
 handed a paper to Chloe Cadwallader, saying: 
 
 " I wish you would send out cards to all these 
 people for Thursday night." 
 
 " That's very short notice, darling," said Chloe. 
 
 " They'll come," said Pen. 
 
 And when Chloe looked at the list she found it 
 included only Pen's particular friends, her most 
 bitter relations, and the whole of the " horde." 
 
 " I wonder — " said Chloe, and she wondered 
 somewhat later with Ethel. 
 
 "Is it?" said Ethel. 
 
 " Can it be ? " cried Chloe. 
 
 " It can't be," said Ethel. 
 
 " Who knows ? " asked Chloe. " She is so plain 
 and so simple and straightforward that there is no 
 
I30 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 certainty about anything she does. I understand 
 the wicked and the weak, but Penelope — " 
 
 She threw up her hands, and presently wrote out 
 the cards. And Penelope was trying " to a degree," 
 as Chloe said all Monday and Tuesday and Wednes- 
 day. And on Thursday she sent for Bob, who came 
 helter-skelter in a hansom. 
 
 " You'll stand by me. Bob," said Pen, clutching 
 him. 
 
 Bob put his hands in his pockets and stood strad- 
 dle-legs. He stared at her. What was hidden 
 from the wisdom of Qiloe was revealed to the 
 simplicity of this boy. 
 
 " Pen," said Bob, solemnly, " I'll stick by you 
 till death. But ain't you going to tell me who it 
 is?" 
 
 " Who what is ? " asked Pen, feebly. 
 
 " Him," said Bob. " Pen, you've been and gone 
 and done it." 
 
 Pen, the strong and mighty Pen, wept a little. 
 
 " Don't snivel," said Bob. " It can't be helped 
 now, I suppose, unless you get a divorce. Do yoii 
 want one ? " 
 
 " Oh, no! " said Pen. " Not at all ! " 
 
 Bob considered the matter for a few minutes. 
 
 " I say, what makes you cry ? " he asked. 
 
 "I — I don't know," said Penelope. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 131 
 
 " Girls are very rum. Baker says they are. He's 
 not married, you know. He says mules are easy to 
 them. He drove mules once in India, he says. 
 You know you are doing all this off your own bat, 
 Pen, ain't you? Why don't you chuck it?" 
 
 "Chuck what, dear?" 
 
 " Oh, this notion of not letting on. Baker says 
 it's the rummest start he ever knew, and he says 
 he's seen some rum things in his life, especially 
 when he was a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers. 
 Can't you chuck it ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not," said Pen, firmly. " It's 
 only. Bob, that I'm not used to it yet, you see." 
 
 " Of course not," said Bob. " Being married is 
 strange at first, I suppose. Baker says he knew a 
 woman who was married four timjes, and by the 
 fourth time she wasn't nervous to speak of. But 
 is it true, Pen, that you won't tell any one who 
 it is?" 
 
 " I won't," said Pen. 
 
 " Bravo," cried Bob. " Stick to it. Oh, it will 
 make granny so savage ! Has Bill spoken about it 
 to you?" 
 
 " He laughs," said Pen. " He always does 
 laugh." 
 
 " He tells rattling good stories," said Bob. " He 
 told me a splendid one about a man who stole a 
 
132 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 parrot the other day. I'll tell it youi sometime when 
 I remember it. Is anything going to happen tO' 
 night, Pen?" 
 
 Pen shivered. 
 
 " Oh, dear, I don't know. Mind you come, too, 
 Bob." 
 
 Bob vowed he wouldn't miss coming for worlds. 
 
 " I believe you're thinking of telling 'em you've 
 done it," he said, and Pen said she was thinking 
 of telling them. 
 
 " You won't tell me who it is ? I'm as close as 
 wax," urged Bob. 
 
 " I can't, dear," said Pen. 
 
 " Oh, by Jove, I remember Bill's parrot story. 
 Pen. A man stole a parrot, and when he was caught 
 he said he took it for a lark. And the man who 
 owned it said he'd make a bally fine judge at a 
 bird-show." 
 
 " Oh," said Pen, rather blankly; " but if he only 
 took it for a lark, I suppose they let him off. Did 
 they?" 
 
 "Let him off what?" 
 
 " Why — going to prison, of course," said Pen. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Bob, staring. " Don't you 
 see it's a joke? " 
 
 " Yes, I see, of course," said Pen. " Why, the 
 
LADY PENELOPE I33 
 
 man said it was a lark, and it was a parrot. I think 
 it's a very good story, Bob.' i 
 
 And Bob went away wandering whether it was or 
 not. 
 
 " I'll tell it to Baker," he said, thoughtfully. 
 
 He turned up at nine o'clock that night with 
 Titania, who was in a state of mind requiring in- 
 stant attention from a physician. 
 
 " Good heavens, what is it, I wonder," said 
 Titania. " Robert, I' wonder what it is ? But what 
 do you know ? I am in a tremble ; I am sure she 
 will do or say something even more scandalous than 
 she has done yet. I put it all on Bradstock; to 
 make him her guardian was a fatal error. My 
 nerves — but I have none. I quiver like a jelly; I 
 shake; I must be pale as a ghost. Why should 
 we take so much trouble over anything? I must 
 think of myself. I will go to bed and stay there 
 for a week, and send for Dr. Lumsden Griff." 
 
 But Bradstock was as calm as a philosopher with- 
 out anything in the objective world to worry him. 
 
 "What does it matter?" he inquired. "Does 
 anything matter?" 
 
 Brading, whom no one had seen for many months, 
 as he had spent the whole winter in a yacht down 
 the Mediterranean, was perfectly good-humoured. 
 
 "You see, she's a dear, but only my half-sister 
 
134 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 after all," he said to Bradstock, " and women are 
 so wonderful! I can tell you a story by and by 
 of a Gredc lady, and one about a Spaniard. And, 
 to tell the truth, I almost agree with Pen. I'm a 
 bit of a socialist, or an anarchist, if you like. Have 
 you read Nietzsche? " 
 
 " Who wrote it ? " asked Bradstock. 
 
 But the horde came in one by one, and Penelope, 
 who was dressed in the most unremarkable cos- 
 tume at her disposal, and looked like a lily, re- 
 ceived them at the door. 
 
 " A most awful and improper situation," said 
 Titania. 
 
 " I say, I'll tell you about that Greek girl," 
 said Brading. " Do you think Pen could stick a 
 knife in a fellow ? " 
 
 Bradstock didn't think so, and listened to the 
 story of the lady who suggested the notion. 
 
 " Right through my coat and waistcoat," said 
 Brading. " Only a very stiff piece of starch saved 
 my life!" 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried Bradstock. 
 
 The room was full, and Bob buzzed around it 
 like a bluebottle in an orchard. 
 
 " Oh, I say," he cried to every one. He told the 
 stor^ of the parrot after he had asked Brading 
 whether he had it right. He tried it on De Vere 
 
LADY PENELOPE i3S 
 
 and failed. Goby roared handsomely. Bramber 
 was absent-minded with his eye on Penelope. Gor- 
 don said, " Yes, yes, a ripping good story." The 
 Marquis de Rivaulx balked at it, but was led to 
 understand it. 
 
 " And when can I go up in a balloon ? " asked 
 Bob. He waited for no answer, but told it to Will- 
 iams, suggesting that the war correspondent might 
 pay for it by a story with blood and torture in it, 
 please. And all of a sudden it was noticed that 
 the hostess had slipped out of the room. ^ 
 
 "Where — where is Penelope?" asked trem- 
 bling Titania. " Mrs. Cadwallader, where is Lady 
 Penelope? " 
 
 Bob ran her to earth in her bedroom, and after 
 many appeals he was let in. 
 
 " Oh, dear, oh, dear," said Penelope. " Bob, let 
 me take hold of you. Do I tremble ? " 
 
 "Rather," said Bob. "I'll bet you couldn't 
 drink a glass of wine without spilling it. What's 
 wrong ? Buck up. Ain't you comin' in to tell 'em ? 
 I've broken it a bit for you." 
 
 Pen screamed. 
 
 "You wretched boy, what have you done?" 
 
 " Bless you, nothing to speak of," said Bob. " I 
 only said you would make 'em sit up presently. 
 They think I know something, and want to bribe 
 
136 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 me. I say, Pen, if you say nothing for a few 
 days, I believe old Gordon will make me a director. 
 Can you? I want to make money and restore the 
 family property. I say, do." 
 
 But Pen paid no attention to him. She groaned 
 instead. 
 
 "Where's the pain?" asked Bob, anxiously. 
 " Shall I get you some brandy? " 
 
 " No, no. Bob! I miut go in and tell them." 
 
 " Come on, then," said Bob, eagerly. " I don't 
 care about the directorship. They're all white and 
 shaking. I guess they are in a stew." 
 
 But still Pen did not move, and when Chloe came 
 she sent her away, saying, " In a moment, in a 
 moment ! " 
 
 Then Bob had a brilliant idea. 
 
 "I say, Pen, I'll do it!" 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 " I'll go in and tell 'em you've done it. It would 
 be a lark!" 
 
 But Pen shook her head. 
 
 " No, I must, I will be brave. If a woman has 
 ideas she must live up to them. I have done 
 good so far. Are they not very much improved, 
 Bob?" 
 
 " Some, I think," said Bob, carelessly. " But I 
 
LADY PENELOPE i37 
 
 dare say they'll go regular muckers now. Come 
 on, Pen, I do want to see their jaws drop." 
 
 And Pen went with him. She stayed outside the 
 door, and Bob went in first. 
 
 " She's coming," said Bob. And Pen entered 
 with her eyes on the floor. Bob took her hand. 
 
 " Buck up and spit it out," he said, in an en- 
 couraging whisper, which was audible in the farthest 
 comer of the room. Some of the horde turned 
 pale; Titania fell back in her chair; Bradstock 
 leant against the wall. Brading put up his eye- 
 glass, and then told Bradstock Pen reminded him 
 of a girl who had once tried to smother him with 
 a pillow. 
 
 " She had Penelope's straightforwardness, and 
 never gave in, just like Pen," said Brading, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 And now Penelope took hold of her courage, so 
 to speak, and opened her mouth. 
 
 " S-sh," said Bob, who looked on himiself as the 
 master of the ceremonies, " s-sh, I say." 
 
 And he took hold of Pen's hand. 
 
 " I'm so glad to see you here to-night," said the 
 reformer, " for I am so much interested in you all, 
 you see. And you've all been so brave." 
 
 " Hear, hear," said Bob. 
 
 " So brave in different ways, about balloons and 
 
138 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 motor-cars and curing yourselves of your weak 
 points," went on Penelope. " That's what I hoped 
 my influence would do. I said I w*as only a girl, 
 but even a girl ought to do something, and I knew 
 you all liked me very much, for you all said so, and 
 I said, what can I do for you ? And I did my best, 
 and you did yours, I'm sure, for I've heard from 
 every one of you all about the others." 
 
 This made many of them look rather queer, as no 
 doubt it might. 
 
 " And months ago I said — I said — " 
 
 " Go ahead. Pen," whispered Bob. " You mean 
 you said you'd marry one of 'em." 
 
 " I said I'd — marry one of you." 
 
 Titania groaned in the corner of a vast settee. 
 Bradstock and Brading whistled, or it seemed so. 
 But the other poor wfetches stared at Penelope, 
 and saw no one,, heard no one, but her. 
 
 " And I wanted you to come to-night so that I 
 could ask you all to go on in the path of recti- 
 tude and simplicity and courage, balloons and hard 
 work and healthiness and thought for others, even 
 if I was married," said Pen, with a gasp. " Will 
 you, oh, will you ? " 
 
 " We will," said the crowd. Goby leading with 
 a deep bass voice and tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad," said Penelope, " for I shall 
 
LADY PENELOPE 139 
 
 not have lived in vain even if I died to-night. And 
 now — and now — I have to tell you something." 
 
 " Great heavens," said Titania, in an awestricken 
 and penetrating whisper, " what is she going to say- 
 now ? " 
 
 " I have kept my word," said Penelope, with her 
 eyes on the floor. " I have kept my word ! " 
 
 "What — what word?" asked the collapsed 
 duchess, and Pen tried to say what word she had 
 kept. 
 
 " Speak up," said Bob, " speak up. Pen 1 " 
 
 And she did speak up. 
 
 " For — for," gasped Penelope, " for, you see, 
 I have married one of you ! " 
 
 Titania uttered a screami and promptly fainted. 
 The men looked at each other furiously and sus- 
 piciously, while Pen was on her knees beside the 
 poor duchess. At that moment a message was 
 brought in for Gordon, and an urgent note from 
 the whip for Bramber. Brading stood in a comer 
 and whistled. Bradstock shrugged his shoulders, 
 and Bob buzzed all over the room like a wasp in a 
 bottle. By dint of water and smelling-salts and the 
 slapping of hands Titania was brought to, and 
 when she had recovered consciousness to the extent 
 of knowing what it was that had bowled her over, 
 she uttered words on the spiu" of the moment which 
 
140 LADY PENELOPE! 
 
 were almost as much of a bombshell as those Penel- 
 ope had spoken. 
 
 " I don't believe she's married at all," said Ti- 
 tania. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 To talk about the grounds of certainty is to talk 
 metaphysically, and metaphysics being the highest 
 form of nonsense, becomes sense in that altitude, 
 as it must be if Hegel is to be believed. But in the 
 conduct of life the grounds of certainty are an 
 estate beyond the rainbow. If Penelope believed 
 any one thing with more fervour than another, it 
 was that her truthfulness must be self-evident. The 
 course of events after the evening on which Titania 
 fainted and recovered so sharply showed her that 
 nothing was certain, not even self-evident truths. 
 For though she said she was married, few, if any, 
 believed her. Titania, who believed in her intuitions, 
 as all right-minded women must, because reason is 
 only an attribute of man, declared that Penelope 
 had lied, to put it plainly. She invented an hypothe- 
 sis to accouht for it. 
 
 " She found out she didn't want to marry any of 
 
 them, and her courage to say so failed her. This 
 
 notion of hers gives her time, and of course, my 
 
 141 
 
142 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 dear, as you see from what I say, she's not married 
 in the least." 
 
 Bradstock, who was a philosopher, disagreed with 
 her, and agreed with Bob. 
 
 " Not married in the least, eh ? " said Bradstock. 
 " What is the least degree of marriage which would 
 mieet with your moral approval, Titania? " 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense, Augustin," replied Titania, 
 tartly. 
 
 " I cannot help it," said Augustin, " the situation 
 is so absurd." 
 
 And so it was for every one but the Duchess and 
 Penelope, who did not understand a joke even with 
 illustrations. And they undoubtedly had the illus- 
 trations. There were leading articles in several 
 papers on the subject of marriage, with discreet 
 allusions to Penelope's case. There was a long 
 and rabid correspondence in the Daily Turncoat, 
 a new halfpenny paper, to which every lady with a 
 past or a future contributed. The editor of the 
 Dictator wrote a moral essay with his own hand, 
 obvious to every student of his immemorial style, 
 which proved that another such case would knock 
 the bottom out of the British Empire and bring on 
 protection. He showed that marriage, open and 
 unadulterated, in a chapel, at the least, was the mini- 
 mum on which morality could. exist, and he pointed 
 
LADY PENELOPE i43 
 
 out with sad firmness that the ethical standards of 
 the true Briton were the only decent ones at present 
 unfurled in the universe, and that they were in great 
 danger of being rolled up and put away. As every 
 one knows, all he said was undoubtedly fact. The 
 true Briton is the only moral person in the world. 
 As a result Penelope felt that she wasn't a true 
 Briton, and it made her very mournful, as it should 
 have done. Nothing but her native obstinacy, which 
 wias imperial if not British, made her stick to her 
 ideas, when her half-brother came to her and asked 
 her crudely to " chuck " it. For, though he was 
 humourous, it was past a joke now, and his ad- 
 miration of Pen was tinged with alarm. 
 
 " I say, old girl, chuck it," said Bill. 
 
 " I can't ! I won't ! " said Penelope. 
 
 " Nobody believes you." 
 
 Penelope couldn't help that. 
 
 " I've spoken the truth." 
 
 " Why, even the other men don't believe it," said 
 her brother. " Why, I met three of 'em to-day, and 
 they all said, * Oh, yes, we understand.' I say. Pen, 
 this is too much. Chuck it ! " 
 
 " Once for all, dear, I won't," said Penelope. 
 " Much as I dislike this publicity, I see it is doing 
 good. I get letters every day from scores of people 
 saying that I am doing good. Three to-day de- 
 
144 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 clared that they were following my example in a 
 registrar's office, and three more are thinking of 
 it. One lady writes, saying she hopes I would go 
 in for abolishing marriage altogether when public 
 opinion was prepared for the extinction of the race. 
 I don't agree with her, but she was enthusiastic, 
 and enthusiasm is a great thing." 
 
 " I shall go yachting for a year," said Bill. 
 
 " I wish you would, dear Bill," replied Penelope. 
 " It will do you good. You look quite pale, and I 
 don't like you to do that. Have you any cough ? " 
 
 " Damn it, no," said Brading, crossly. 
 
 And he went yachting again without publicity 
 but with a lady. He was no true Briton, and never 
 read the Dictator. 
 
 His departure took one thing oflF Pen's hands, 
 but none of her lovers departed. Titania's words 
 had sunk deep in their minds. 
 
 " She's not married," they said. " And if she 
 says she is, it is only to try us." 
 
 They all interviewed Bob, and made things very 
 pleasant for that rising statesman. If he believed 
 Pen was married there was no reason to say so 
 openly. 
 
 " Am I old enough to be a director, do you 
 think?" he asked Gordon. "What I want is to 
 
LADY PENELOPE US 
 
 make pots of money and rebuild Goring, which is 
 a bally ruin." 
 
 " You don't answer my questions," said Gordon. 
 
 " Oh, about Pen," said Bob. " She's queer. I 
 don't know, Mr. Gordon, I can't tell. She may be, 
 for all I know. She's so clever, I don't know that 
 she hasn't married you, and put you up to coming 
 and asking me questions." 
 
 Gordon couldn't help grinning. 
 
 " I think you'll be a director of something some 
 day," said he. " I can't make you one now, but if 
 you have a hundred pounds I'll invest it in some- 
 thing for you, my son, that will make your hair 
 curl." 
 
 " Like yours ? " asked Bob, curiously, and Gordon 
 flinched. 
 
 " Well," went on Bob, without waiting for an 
 answer, " I haven't a hundred pounds, but I've an 
 idea how to get it." 
 
 " Yes? " said the financier. " What's your idea. 
 Bob? " 
 
 " It's a safe and a certain investment, is it? " 
 
 " Why, of course," replied Gordon. 
 
 " Then I'll tell you what, you lend it me," said 
 Bob, brightly, " and invest it for me." 
 
 " Damned if I don't," cried Gordon. " Bob, when 
 you are twenty-one I'll make you a director and ask 
 
146 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 your advice! And you'll come and tell me if you 
 find out anything about Lady Penelope ? " 
 
 Bob looked at him and shook his head. 
 
 " I say, you're so clever, I don't know how to 
 take you. I dare say it's you ! " 
 
 The flattered financier smiled. 
 
 " Oh, by the way," said Bob, rather in a hurry, 
 " I suppose I should get nearly as much if I in- 
 vested ninety pounds as if I put in a hundred ? " 
 ■ " Nearly," said Gordon, who hoped to be let off 
 a little, " only ten per cent, less." 
 
 " That'll do me," said Bob. " Then you can give 
 me the tenner now, Mr. Gk>rdan, and put in the 
 rest for me." 
 
 " I wish I had a boy like that," said Gordon. 
 He went away ten pounds poorer, but with a great 
 admiration for Bob, who was determined to restore 
 the faded splendour of Goring. 
 
 " Hanged if I know who it is," said Bob. " It 
 may be Gordon after all. And every one but De 
 Vere and Bramber have been at me. Is it one of 
 these?" 
 
 He had a remarkable list of all those who had 
 pretended to Penelope's hand, for he was very 
 curious, like all the rest of the world. He was also 
 a little sore with Pen for not confiding in him. 
 
 " I told her I'd find out," he said, " and I will." 
 
LADY PENELOPE I47 
 
 This was his list, and a curious document it was, 
 written in a big, round hand that " old Guth " could 
 never get him to modify. His spelling was almost 
 ducal in its splendour. 
 
 " Plant. It isn't Mr. Plant, because he said would 
 I like to go out in a motor, a new one, ninety-horse 
 power, and I said rather, if he'd let her rip. And 
 he looked anshious I thought. He tiped me. 
 
 " Goby. It isn't Qoby, Goby says he'll always be 
 my friend. He said had I another pony not sound, 
 to experiment with. He stamped up and down, 
 some. He tiped me. 
 
 " Williams. It isn't Williams, he took me to 
 lunch and told me lots of things about the Chinese 
 that his paper wouldn't print. They wfere orful. 
 He said if I'd keep in with him he knew worse. He 
 didn't tip me this time because the lunch was so 
 much. I had turtell three times. 
 
 " Rivaulx. It isn't the Frenchy because he tore 
 his hair, and said I could go up in a baloon any 
 day. At least, he didn't tear his hair ; it's too short. 
 He keeps it up with Gordon too but looks horrid. 
 He tiped me. 
 
 " Carew. It isn't him. He's very anxshus and 
 says he can't paint : says the crittics are right. He 
 was a sad sight to see, walking around in his studio. 
 
148 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 He said would I sit to him for an angel. He stops 
 walkingand tries to do Pen quick. I think it's muck. 
 I wouldn't like a tip from him, for if an artist 
 can't paint through grief what becomes of him? 
 Do the others buy him for the Chantrey Bequest ? " 
 
 " That's the lot so far," said Bob. And he added 
 to his notes : 
 
 " Gordon. It isn't Gordon. He lent me a hun- 
 dred pounds to invest in something to make hair 
 curl. I said make it ninety and give me ten now, 
 and he did. He didn't tip me, but I don't think 
 him mean on that account." 
 
 " That leaves only De Vere and Bramber," said 
 Bob, " and she never seemed much stuck on either 
 to my mind. But if they don't say anything to me 
 I shall begin to suspect." 
 
 He said so to Bradstock, who called him a young 
 devil. 
 
 But about three days later Bob added to his 
 notes : 
 
 " Bramber. It isn't Bramber. I met him in the 
 park. He took mie to the House and gave me a 
 beastly lunch. But he didn't notice it as he couldn't 
 
LADY PENELOPE i49 
 
 eat and looked very pale and savidge. He tiped 
 me. 
 
 " De Vere. It's not the poetry rotter. He wants 
 me to stay with him and look after the dogs. He 
 said if I had a sick one he'd rather have it than not. 
 He said he was desprit. I don't know why, but 
 suppose it's Pen. He tiped me." 
 
 " Now where am I at? " he said, blankly. " I've 
 written down it isn't any of 'em. And that's what 
 granny says. But I don't believe her." 
 
 He chewed his pencil till it was in rags, and then 
 a sudden idea struck him. 
 
 " I'll buy all Sherlock Holmes and read him right 
 through," said Bob. " That's the way to find out 
 anything. I wish I knew the man that wrote him. 
 I wonder if De Vere knows him? I'll ask Baker 
 to get a sick dog from the vet's, and I'll go down 
 and stay with De Vere if I can make granny say 
 'yes.' I wonder why old De Vere wants a sick 
 dog, though. I can't understand poets." 
 
 It was no wonder Gordon wished he had a boy 
 like Bob. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It was all very well for Bob to declare that his 
 grandmother was altogether " ofif it " when she said 
 that Penelope wasn't married at all. For, little by 
 little, after furious discussions in ten thousand 
 houses, in the court, the camp, and the grove, that 
 came to be the general opinion. 
 
 Titania expressed the general opinion : 
 " She is mad, of course. What can one expect 
 when her mother was an American ? All Americans 
 are mad. Bradstock assures me there is a some- 
 thing in the air of the United States (oh, even in 
 Canada) which makes one take entirely new views 
 of everything. And that, of course, is madness, 
 my dear, madness undoubted and dangerous. He 
 assured me, poor fellow, that six months in that 
 absurd country made him tremble for his belief in 
 a constitutional monarchy! He adds that he has 
 only partially recovered, by firmly fixing his eyes 
 on what a limited monarch might be, if he tried. 
 Yes, she was an American, and adored our aris- 
 
 15° 
 
LADY PENELOPE 151 
 
 tocracy, not knowing what we are, poor thing. 
 And yet where Penelope's ideas come from I do 
 not know. I firmly believe Bradstock is the cause 
 of them. When she was a little girl he would take 
 her on his knee and pour anarchism into her inno- 
 cent ears. You know his way; he runs counter to 
 everything, though now comparatively silent. And 
 Penelope was always ready to go against me, though 
 she loves me. This was an early idea of hers; 
 Augustin owns that he suggested it humourously 
 to her years ago. There is nothing so dangerous 
 as humour; it is always liable to be taken seriously. 
 Mr. Browning, the poet, said so to me at a garden- 
 party; he said he was a humourist, and he said 
 Mr. Tennyson (oh, yes. Lord Tennyson) lacked 
 humour, while he himself had too much of it. He 
 explained Sordello to me, and made me laugh 
 heartily. But as I was saying, Penelope took up 
 the idea and gave it out, and now is sorry, and, not 
 having the courage to say so, she has taken refuge 
 in what I am reluctantly compelled to characterize as 
 a lie, and it is a great relief to me. The scandal 
 will blow over; already the halfpenny papers are 
 tired of her. I expect she will marry by and by. 
 Oh, no, of course she isn't married ! " 
 
 And as Penelope's ideas were in every way abso- 
 lutely contrary to what one has a right to expect, 
 
152 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 it is only natural that, proof of the contrary being 
 lacking, the whole world began gradually to come 
 around to Titania's opinion. A duchess has a great 
 deal of influence if she only likes to use it, and the 
 public is no more proof against her than the public 
 offices are. 
 
 And Pen set her teeth together and ignored every 
 one, and had very little to say to society. Her 
 apparent passion was for motor-cars, and she went 
 out in the sixty-horse Panhard almost every day. 
 And every end of the week she disappeared, com- 
 ing back on Monday or Tuesday. 
 
 " I could tell 'em something," said Geordie 
 Smith, " couldn't I, old girl? " 
 
 The " old girl " he referred to was the machine he 
 loved next best, at least, to Lady Penelope. 
 
 " Me and Bunting could wake 'em up some," he 
 said. " I'd like Bunting if he'd only get rid of the 
 notion that horses are everything. I hope to see the 
 time when there won't be any except in parks, run- 
 ning wild like deer." 
 
 It was an awful notion, and it was a wonder that 
 he and Bunting got on without fighting. 
 
 " My lady uses your bloomin' tracking engine," 
 said Tim, contemptuously, " but she loves 'orses. 
 You can't give carrots to your old thing, and it 
 ain't got no smooth and silky muzzle to pat. Faugh ! 
 
LADY PENELOPE i53 
 
 the smell of it makes me sick; give me the 'ealthy 
 hodour of the stable. Smith ! " 
 
 " Find me a horse that'd carry her and me a hun- 
 dred and twenty miles in three hours and damn the 
 expense in fines," replied Smith, " and I'm with 
 you. My lady loves this car a'most as much as 
 I do. Who can catch her and me, flying along? 
 Let 'em come, let 'em try, and I'll put her out to 
 the top notch and let her sizzle. You come out and 
 try, Tim; one drive and you'll be another man, 
 looking on horses as what they are, mere animals 
 and not up to date. My lady's up to date and be- 
 yond it." 
 
 " When I go in your bally machine hit'll be by my 
 lady's borders," said Timothy, " and it'll be tryin' 
 my hallegiance very 'ard. Comie and 'ave a drink, 
 if you hain't too advanced for that ! 'Ave you been 
 chased lately as you brought my lady 'ome ? " 
 
 " I thought I was," replied Smith, " but I shook 
 'em off. I'm egging her on to get a ninety-horse 
 in case. That young cousin of hers let on to me 
 that she'll be followed up some day, and I told her. 
 She'll do it!" 
 
 "I wonder what's her game?" said Tim. 
 " Blowed if I hunderstand." 
 
 " So far's I see," replied Smith, " it's a general 
 notion that a party's private biz is their private 
 
1 54 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 biz. And the others says it isn't, and there's where 
 the trouble begins. I agree with her in a measure, 
 don't you?" 
 
 " I agrees with my lady hevery time," said Tim. 
 " She's a sweet lady, and, my word, if I didn't I'd 
 get the sack, which I don't want. What she says 
 she sticks to, bein' in that different to hany woman 
 I hever met. That's what the trouble is, that and 
 reformin' lovers and husbands and law and so hon ! " 
 
 But the real trouble was that what she said she 
 stuck to. She began to care much less for reform, 
 and now never read Herbert Spencer and the greater 
 philosopher, who has discovered that man doesn't 
 think so much of yesterday as he does of to-mor- 
 row. She forgot the Deceased Wife's Sister, and 
 ignored the London County Council, and didn't read 
 the Times except on great occasions. She spent the 
 days in dreaming, and, except when she was de- 
 vouring the space between London and Lincolnshire, 
 she lay about on sofas and read poetry or listened 
 to Bob, and looked ten thousand times more beau- 
 tiful than ever, like the Eastern beauties, of whom 
 one reads in the Arabian Nights, returning from 
 the bath. She was wonderfully affectionate to Bob, 
 who was a most considerate boy, and didn't worry 
 her when he had once discovered that asking ques- 
 tions was no use. He told her of his vain efforts 
 
LADY PENELOPE i5S 
 
 to find out whom she had married, and was very- 
 amusing. He began to have great amibitions. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon says I've a great future before me, 
 Pen. He thinks no end of me. He says being a 
 duke by and by is all very well, but I agree with 
 him there are greater things than merely being one. 
 He says the men with power are the rulers of the 
 world. He told me how he and Rothschild stopped 
 a war in a hurry. He didn't say which war. I 
 asked him why he didn't stop the South African 
 War, and he said that was different. I asked him 
 did he bring it on then, and he said ' No.' But I 
 think he did, somehow. Will you ask old Sir Henry 
 if he did ? I don't like Sir Henry, though, do you ? " 
 
 He went on to tell her about Sherlock Holmes. 
 
 " I'm reading him through again. Pen. And 
 when I go down to De Vere's I shall ask De Vere 
 to invite the man that wrote him. I'm going to De 
 Vere's to take himi a sick dog. He said he wanted 
 one, and I've got one from Baker. Baker says he 
 must want to vivisect him, and he doesn't like the 
 idea. Baker's a very kind man to animals, but 
 I've given my word that the dog sha'n't be vivi- 
 sected. You don't think a poet would, do you? 
 Did you tell him to learn to be a vet or anything? 
 If you did, that would explain it. I've been through 
 the whole list, Pen, and, though I won't worry you, 
 
ts6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 I've come to the conclusion so far that I don't know 
 which you've married. If I find out I won't tell." 
 
 " You're a dear," said Pen, languidly. 
 
 " I've got a notion how to find out, though," said 
 Bob. " At least, I shall have when I've finished 
 Sherlock Holmes. I'd rather be Sherlock Holmes 
 than a duke. It seems to me that unless you are 
 the Duke of Norfolk or the Duke of Devonshire 
 you are out of it. Being a common duke is dull, 
 but being Holmes must be very exciting." 
 
 One thing that he told her made her think fu- 
 riously. 
 
 " Not one of 'em really believes you, Pen, and 
 they're much more jealous of each other than they 
 were. I believe they'll be fighting presently." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense," said Pen, anxiously. 
 
 Bob shrugged his shoulders, a trick he had caught 
 from the marquis. 
 
 " It's not nonsense. I can see bloodshed in their 
 eyes. The marquis looks awfully ferocious, and 
 Williams, too. Of course, I don't say that Gordon 
 would fight much. And I should snigger to see old 
 De Vere in a duel, shouldn't you? But if Bramber 
 and the marquis and Williams and Goby get to- 
 gether, I shouldn't be surprised if they fought with 
 swords or guns. I think Rivaulx would like that. 
 He would stick them all and make 'em squeal, I 
 
LADY PENELOPE iS7 
 
 can tell you. He's a whale at fencing. He took 
 me to see him once, and when he stamped and said 
 'Ha-ha/ like a war-horse, I wondered the other 
 mian didn't run." 
 
 " If they had a duel, any of them, I shouldn't 
 speak to them again," said Penelope. " I abhor 
 duels and warfare and weapons, and think they 
 should be abolished in universal peace. And as I 
 am married now. Bob, I hope you will do what you 
 can to make them believe it." 
 
 " You can make 'em believe it at once," said 
 Bob. " I do think this is absurd. And don't you 
 see it's funny, too. Pen ? " 
 
 " No," said Pen, "it's not. It's right, and what 
 is right can't be funny." 
 
 Bob reflected. 
 
 " Well, there's something in that. It ain't much 
 fun generally." 
 
 And he returned to Sherlock Holmes. 
 
 " I wonder what he would do," said Bob to him- 
 self, pensively. " There ain't any footsteps or blood 
 in this. I suppose he'd take a look at Pen and then 
 have a smoke and go out in a hansom and come 
 back very tired. I've looked at Pen a lot, but smok- 
 ing still makes me sick, and I don't know where 
 to go in a hansom. And I think Holmes would 
 think it mean to follow her when she goes off with 
 
158 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Smith in her car. Besides, a hansom can't catch 
 a sixty-horse Panhard unless it breaks down. I 
 think he would get at it by looking at the men." 
 
 That put him on the track of a dreadful scheme, 
 a most wicked and immoral scheme, that his hero 
 would have disapproved of. 
 
 " I believe I have it," said Bob, starting up in 
 wild excitement. " If I go around to them all and 
 say that I'm sure she's not married, but that she 
 loves the one they hate most, they will jump and be 
 in a rage, won't they? I should be, I know. And 
 the one that doesn't jump will be him. I dare say 
 De Vere won't jump, but he's not a jumping sort, 
 but he'll cry, likely. Rivaulx will snort if it isn't 
 him." 
 
 He sat and pondered over this lovely scheme. 
 
 " But if she loves one of 'em, why don't she 
 own it to himi, and why this mystery ? They'll ask 
 that, of course. Oh, but that doesn't matter ; they'll 
 do the snorting first. And, besides, I could let on 
 that not all of them are in earnest. Ain't it possible 
 that the one she loves won't ask her now, and she's 
 covering up her disappointment ? That would make 
 Rivaulx fairly howl, I know. He's a real good 
 chap, and between howling and weeping he says he 
 wants her to be happy. I'll do it." 
 
 He went off to do it at once. 
 
LADY PENELOPE iS9 
 
 " Ha, ha, my beautiful boy," said the Marquis 
 of Rivaulx, whom he found in his rooms in Picca- 
 dilly, " have you come with news for me, the de- 
 voted and despairing?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know, marquis," returned Bob, 
 soberly. " I've been thinking about it, and I'm in 
 a state of puzzle." 
 
 " And I am in a state of the devil himself," re- 
 plied Rivaulx. " I suspect every one. I am enraged. 
 I suspect you. Bob, my boy." 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I suspect you, too. I've never got over think- 
 ing that it may be you," he said, " for you are all 
 just like each other, and it's obvious some one is 
 telling me lies." 
 
 Rivaulx smiled, a deep and dark French smile, 
 wihich was agonizing to behold. It puzzled Bob 
 dreadfully. 
 
 " There," he said, " you smile, and so does Pen, 
 and you all smile. But I believe I've discovered 
 something." 
 
 " About who or which ? " asked Rivaulx. " Is 
 it about that Goby?" 
 
 He might loathe Gordon, but he was jealous of 
 Goby. He promenaded the room, and was already 
 in a rage. 
 
i6o LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Yes," said Bob, boldly. " I believe she's not 
 married, and I believe she likes him best." 
 
 " The hound, the vile one, the unmeasured beast," 
 roared Rivaulx, " it cannot be. If she loves him 
 (no, I can't believe it), why does she not wed him? 
 I shall slay him. Is she unhappy ? Does she weep ? 
 I adore her, but if she loves him he shall marry 
 her or I will stab him to the heart." 
 
 " I dare say he's not in earnest," said Bob. And 
 the marquis ground his teeth and foamed at the 
 mouth, and again tried to tear his close-cropped 
 hair without the least success. 
 
 " Not — oh, sacred dog of a man, — ha — let 
 me kill him!" 
 
 He tore around the room and knocked two orna- 
 ments off the mantelpiece and upset a table, which 
 Bob laboriously restored to its place. After he had 
 put it back three times, he gave it up and cowered 
 under the storm. 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if this was put on," 
 said Bob, rather gloomily. " I know he can act like 
 blazes; Pen says he can. She said he was finer 
 than Irving or Toole in a tragedy. I don't think it 
 has the true ring of sincerity." 
 
 And making his escape from the cyclone, he went 
 off to see Goby, who was hideously jealous of 
 Carteret Williams. 
 
LADY PENELOPE i6i 
 
 " I hope he won't be as mad as the marquis," 
 said Bob. " That table barked my shins horribly 
 the last time it fell. I wish Frenchmen wouldn't 
 shout so when they're angry; I'm nearly deaf." 
 
 There was the devil to pay with Goby. He an- 
 nounced his intention of assaulting Williams at 
 once. 
 
 "Oh, I say, you mustn't," cried Bob, in great 
 alarm. " She'll never forgive you." 
 
 " That Williams ! " said Goby. " I always did 
 hate war correspondents. I don't believe it." 
 
 But it looked as if he did. 
 
 " I dare say you are putting it on," cried Bob. 
 " I don't know where I am." 
 
 Goby said he didn't, either, but that if this turned 
 out to be true he would wring Williams's neck in 
 the park the first fine Sunday in June. 
 
 " He would have acted just the same if he was 
 married to her, and thought she loved Williams best 
 after all," said Bob to himself. " I'll try Bramber 
 and Williams, and then give it up." 
 
 Bramber was in a furious temper, and when Bob 
 assured him that Penelope loved Gordon best of 
 any one, he swore horribly. As he rarely swore, 
 this was very impressive, and Bob almost shivered. 
 
 " I say, you mustn't kick Gordon," he urged. 
 " After all, I may be mistaken." 
 
1 62 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I wish you were dead," said Bramber, " and you 
 will be if you don't get out." 
 
 Bob got out, and when he was in the open air he 
 sighed. 
 
 " I don't think I'll try Williams," he said, thought- 
 fully. " He's much bigger and stronger even than 
 Goby, and they say he's a terror when he's very 
 angry. My scheme doesn't seem to work; there's 
 something wrong with it." 
 
 But there was nothing wrong with it, and it 
 worked marvellously. The report that Bob said pos- 
 itively that Pen wasn't married carried much weight. 
 Goby and Rivaulx both gave it away. And all the 
 men now loathed each other openly. Rivaulx cut 
 Goby and Goby cut Williams and Bramber sneered 
 at Gordon, and there was great likelihood of there 
 being the devil to pay. Pen tried to patch up peace 
 among them, and failed, and wept about it, seeing 
 so much of the good she had done melt like sugar 
 in warm rain. At last she announced her intention 
 of leaving them and the world alone. 
 
 " I almost think I'll give up reform," she sighed. 
 
 And the season went by and the autumn came, 
 and Titania found herself at Goring in October 
 with a large house-party which didn't include Penel- 
 ope. 
 
 " She is, of course, somewhat ashamed of her- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 163 
 
 self," said Titania, happily. " This comes of hav- 
 ing ideas and foolishly attempting to carry them 
 into practice. Now that I am certain she is not 
 married and that she only says so, I feel quite dif- 
 ferent. I no longer abhor the poor, foolish men 
 who are so much in love with her. I see plainly 
 (for I, too, am naturally a democrat of the proper 
 kind) that they have fine qualities. I have 
 marked my sense of this in a way which appears to 
 amuse Lord Bradstock for some reason that I do not 
 follow, — but then, I never could follow Augustin, 
 poor fellow, — by asking them all down here. I dare 
 say they think Penelope will come, for they have 
 all accepted. I am delighted, for I really admire 
 them. Mr. Carew is the handsomest young man in 
 London, and will paint my portrait between meals. 
 I wonder whether I shall try to get thinner by eat- 
 ing less, or will it be better to tell Mr. Carew to 
 make me thinner in his picture. That seems the 
 easiest course; for if Penelope's conduct has not 
 made me thin, what would? Neither hot weather 
 nor despair has the least effect upon me. I shall 
 trust to Mr. Carew's idea of what is right and 
 proper. I wish I could rely with equal confidence 
 upon poor, dear, misguided Penelope." 
 
 There was much discontent in the camp when the 
 lovers learnt that their beloved was not one of 
 
1 64 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Titania's house-party. They were not civil to each 
 other, and with difficulty were civil to Titania. 
 
 " Confound the old harridan," said Goby. This 
 was wicked, for Titania was very sweet, and re- 
 tained much more than a trace of her youthful 
 beauty. She belonged to the modern band of those 
 who sternly refuse to grow old. 
 
 " Great Scott ! " said Carteret Williams. The 
 others made equally appropriate exclamations. They 
 damned Goring in heaps, and looked at each other 
 like a crowd of strange dogs. Owing to Penelope's 
 influence they all came in motor-cars. Even De 
 Vere turned up in one which was guaranteed by age 
 and its maker not to go more than ten miles an hour. 
 There wasn't room to get them into the temporary 
 garage out of the wet. But the marquis did not 
 come in a balloon or a flying-machine. That was 
 something, at any rate, though Bob growled about 
 it bitterly. Pen's request that he should do his best 
 to make the world believe she was married was 
 entirely forgotten. Without quite meaning to say 
 so, he practically asserted in every word that she 
 was not. 
 
 " After all," said Bob, " I believe she is capable 
 of deceiving even me, for she is a woman. Horace, 
 in his Odes, seems to think that. It seems to me 
 
LADY PENELOPE 165 
 
 that classical authors had a very poor opinion of 
 women." 
 
 He went to Rivaulx crossly. 
 
 " I say, I think you ought to have come in a • 
 flying-machine. Why didn't you? Pen will be 
 mad." 
 
 He introduced De Vere to Baker (who had been 
 a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers), and left him 
 with him, discussing hydrophobia and bulldogs. 
 
 " Baker says he has a great admiration for you, 
 sir," said Bob. " He has lots of pups for you to 
 look at. There's a very queer spotted one that Pen 
 said she was sure you would like. It's very cheap 
 for a spotted dog of the kind. Baker says." 
 
 But they were an unhappy crowd, and even the 
 shooting, which was fairly good for a poor duke's 
 place, hardly consoled them. 
 
 At night the women, who all gambled, naturally 
 were very cross. It appeared that not one of the 
 men would play bridge, because Penelope had made 
 them swear off. There were only three men in the 
 house not in love with Penelope. Titania had a 
 dreadful time, and much regretted her hospitality. 
 Carew was furious, of course, and his notions of 
 colour were very morbid. And he appeared to see 
 the duchess as she was, in spite of the hints the 
 poor woman threw out to the desperate painter, 
 
i66 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 who looked at her sorrowfully and sighed as he 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Being painted is an ordeal," she said. Not one 
 of the others consoled her. De Vere wept with her 
 in the drawing-room ; Williams wrecked her orchids 
 in the hothouse; Plant and Gordon quarrelled in 
 the smoking-room. And Bramber, who was only 
 there for four days, looked horridly sorry for him- 
 self, and sneered at every one. The marquis went 
 around the park in a ninety-horse-power racer 
 seventeen times between breakfast and Itmch. The 
 chauffeurs quarrelled furiously; they even fought 
 in the stable yard with Baker as umpire and Bob as 
 timekeeper. 
 
 At the dinner-table was the only time of peace, 
 and then it was too peaceful. Nobody but Bob and 
 Ethel Mytton and Titania did any talking. Bob 
 spoke of very little but Penelope, which was natural 
 but awkward. He told them what Baker said, till 
 they all desired to go out and strangle Baker. Brad- 
 stock encouraged him, for Bradstock was the only 
 man there who had any apparent desire to be 
 amused. The rest of them played with the soup, 
 toyed with the entrees, fooled with the roasts, choked 
 over the birds, and went out and oversmoked them- 
 selves. Then they met in the big hall and the 
 drawing-room, and Titania had to assure them all 
 
LADY PENELOPE 167 
 
 one after the other, that she was certain Penelope 
 was not married. 
 
 " Then why does she say she is ? " they asked, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " It must be to try you," said Titania. " Au- 
 gustin, don't you think it is to try them ? " 
 
 Bradstock made that sound which the Eng- 
 lish write as " Humph " and the Scotch put 
 down as " Imphm." It means a great deal, but is 
 intelligible to the intelligent. 
 
 " Yes, it is to try you," said Titania. " She is a 
 dear, sweet thing, but has ideas which do not com- 
 mend themselves to me. I understand them, of 
 course, but regret them. It may be, of course, that 
 she does not love any of you, and is trying to get 
 out of it. By and by you will find out if that is 
 so. She is enthusiastic and impulsive. Oh, these 
 impulses of youth! How well I remember the de- 
 lightful impulses of youth, when one feels as if 
 one could fly with wings! Even now I get im- 
 pulses. Poor Penelope I Ah, dear, I wish she would 
 come. I have written again and again to ask her, 
 but I'm afraid she will not." 
 
 And, indeed, no one at that moment knew where 
 she was, unless, indeed, it was Timothy and Geordie 
 Smith and Miss Mackarness and the pirate in gog- 
 gles of the motor-car who carried her ofif. 
 
i68 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Titania and Bob between them, at any rate, accom- 
 plished one thing. No one pretended to assign a sat- 
 isfactory reason for Pen's conduct, but every one, ex- 
 cept one, perhaps, believed she was still single. They 
 were sure of it, and grew surer every day. As a 
 result, they recovered some little peace of mind ; they 
 quarrelled less and ate more and shot straighter. 
 Rivaulx only went fifteen times around the park 
 before lunch; De Vere bought more dogs; Plant 
 agreed to go into some scheme of trust robbery with 
 Gordon, who assured the rest of them that he had 
 Rothschild up his sleeve. Williams stamped less on 
 flower-beds and swore half as much as usual. Goby 
 and Bramber went out walks together with Bob and 
 Ethel Mytton. Titania's barometer went up and her 
 size went down in Carew's picture. He saw her 
 less yellow, and did not insist on her wrinkles. 
 Augustin sat in the library and read books which 
 were of so humourous a character that they com- 
 pelled him to put them down and laugh continually. 
 It was certainly a most amusing house-party. 
 
 " I thought there would have been duels in the 
 park," said Augustin. " I wonder what the deuce 
 Pen would think of them if she saw them now." 
 
 And then one day something serious happened. 
 It was on a Sunday, and on Sundays the post came 
 in at half -past ten, just at the time they were all 
 
LADY PENELOPE 169 
 
 having breakfast before going to church. They 
 were just about as happy as they could ever hope 
 to be till Penelope married one or all of them. Bob, 
 who was especially greedy that morning, was eating 
 against time and winning. Only Ethel was sad, 
 for Goby seemed quite cheerful. When he was 
 mournful she was happier always. Titania flawed 
 wonderfully. Augustin was saying the kind of thing 
 he could say when sitting down. Goring himself 
 was eating as if he was in rivalry with Bob. He 
 never said anything, but looked like a duke, which 
 is a very fine thing when a man is a duke, and 
 can afford it with care. Gordon was eating bacon 
 as if he had no great appetite for it. 
 
 " Oh, here's the post," said Titania. Augustin 
 took Saturday's Times and opened it. 
 
 " I wonder whether dear Penelope has written 
 to me," said Titania. The " horde " looked up ; 
 they hoped even yet that Penelope would give in and 
 come at last. 
 
 " Any news ? " grunted Goring. 
 
 " I don't see any," replied Augustin. 
 
 "What are Jack Sheppard's United?" asked 
 Gordon, slipping a piece of bacon into his pocket. 
 
 And Augustin made his celebrated speech over 
 again, his single speech in the House of Lords. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Augustin, and he turned al- 
 
I/O LADY PENELOPE 
 
 most as white as the Times paper before it went 
 through the machines. Every one stared at him. 
 
 "What is it?" screamed Titania. Bob jumped 
 up and deserted a pig's cheek just as it was showing 
 signs of utter defeat. 
 
 " It's — it's — " said Augustin, and he stam- 
 mered vainly. 
 
 "I' say, let's look," cried Bob. "Granny, it's 
 something in the Births, Marriages, and Deaths ! " 
 
 " Good heavens, speak, Augustin ! " implored Ti- 
 tania. 
 
 The band of lovers went as white as Augustin; 
 they stood up simultaneously. 
 
 " I see it, I see it," said Bob, and he actually 
 snatched the paper from Lord Bradstock's hand. 
 
 " Is she married ? Is she dead ? " asked Titania. 
 
 " No, no," said Bob, sputtering and aflame with 
 wild excitement ; " it's ' Brading — Lady Penelope 
 Brading on the i8th of a son! ' " 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 There are blows which stun ; this was, of course, 
 one of them. Titania did not shriek or faint at the 
 awful intelligence conveyed by the Thunderer of 
 Printing House Square. She nodded her head as 
 if she was partially paralyzed, and at last murmured 
 in a dry whisper: 
 
 "Of a son! Of a son!" 
 
 Bradstock's eyebrows were as high as they would 
 go, and he stared at Titania, and then look around 
 on the circle of men and women. Ethel squeaked 
 a little squeak, like a mouse behind the wainscot 
 and was silent. 
 
 " Oh — of a son," said Goby, sighing and look- 
 ing at the floor. 
 
 " Of a son ! " said Plant, eyeing the ceiling. 
 
 " Un Ms! " shrieked Rivaulx. 
 
 Gordon said " Damnation ; " De Vere shook like 
 a stranded jelly-fish; Bramber went as scarlet as 
 a lobster, and then as white as cotton; Carteret 
 
 171 
 
172 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Williams lcx>ked blue, and Carev/ looked green, and 
 Bob said: "My eye!" 
 
 There is something organic in any given number 
 of people acting under the same shock or the same 
 impulse. What one thinks another thinks; and 
 now all the room fixed their eyes on Titania, whose 
 lips moved in silence. 
 
 " This is dreadful ! " said Titania to herself. " I 
 don't believe she's married at all. One of these 
 men is a scoundrel, a ruffian, a seducer ! " 
 
 No one heard what she said, but as she thought 
 it the men looked at each other with awful sus- 
 picions. And then Titania, whose mind was whirl- 
 ing, said feebly: 
 
 " We — we must hush it up ! " 
 
 And there lay the Times! Hush it up indeed! 
 And Bradstock recovered some of his equanimity. 
 
 " Nonsense ! She's married, as she says," he re- 
 marked, with comparative coolness. 
 
 But no one believed it. The men drew apart 
 from each other. De Vere moved his chair, be- 
 cause Goby was looking at him like a demon. 
 Carew shrank from Carteret Williams. Gordon 
 went livid under Plant's eyes. Bramber looked at 
 them all as if he would die on the spot. Rivaulx 
 rose up and waltzed around the room. It was a 
 happy chance that he did so; it is possible that 
 
LADY PENELOPE i73 
 
 he saved immediate bloodshed. Bradstock and Bob 
 caught the Frenchman in their arms, and led him 
 outside to the lawn, where there was ample room 
 for a frantic pas seul. 
 
 " Steady, old chap ! " said Bradstock, " steady ! 
 Her husband must acknowledge now who he is ! " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Bob, in immense delight, " not 
 much ! If she's married at all, she's sworn him not 
 to. She told me she'd swear him not to ! And she 
 said if he broke his oath she'd never see him 
 again ! " 
 
 " Great heavens ! " said Bradstock, " so she did. 
 I remember now, she did speak of oaths, dreadful 
 oaths!" 
 
 Rivaulx danced over a flower-bed, came in con- 
 tact with a fence, fell over it, and uttered a howl 
 which brought every one into the garden. He 
 tumbled into a ditch, fortunately a comparatively 
 dry one, and lay there, using the very worst French 
 language. 
 
 The gloomy crowd lined the ditch and listened, 
 and wished they understood. As a matter of fact, 
 only Bradstock and Bramber knew sufficient decent 
 French to guess what Rivaulx said, and they shiv- 
 ered. In the background Titania and Ethel hung 
 to each other and wept; old Goring remained in- 
 side sucking at an unlighted cigar. 
 
174 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " The terrible, terrible disgrace ! " said Titania. 
 She believed the very worst at once. " Is it the 
 marquis? Is he smitten with remorse?" 
 
 Rivaulx got out of the ditch on the wrong side, 
 and walked out into the park, where he addressed 
 a commination service to a nice little herd of Jersey 
 cows. After five minutes of this exercise, he re^ 
 turned • toward the house and climbed the fence. 
 Then he shook his fist at the others. 
 
 " One of you is a scelerat," he howled, " a scoun- 
 drrrel ! I challenge you all to fight ! Ha, ha ! " 
 
 Bradstock took him by the arm and led him away. 
 
 " One of us is a hound ! " said Goby. 
 
 " Yes," said the others, " yes ! " 
 
 They glared at each other horribly, and clenched 
 their fists. Bob ran around them in the wildest ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " Look here, I say. Captain Goby. Oh, Mr. de 
 Vere! I say, Mr. Plant, if you want to fight, come 
 into the stables. Granny says you mustn't fight 
 here." 
 
 He grabbed several of them, and was hurled into 
 space at once. He finally laid hold of De Vere, 
 who wasn't capable of hurling a ladybird off his 
 finger. 
 
 " You shall fight Goby if you want to," he 
 roared. 
 
"AviTHUn. Wii-LiAM Buo 
 
 THE MARQUIS DE RIVAULX 
 Anti-Semite to his manicured finger-tips 
 
LADY PENELOPE i7S 
 
 " But I don't want to," shrieked the poet. 
 "What shall I do? My heart is broken! " 
 
 "Oh, what rot!" said Bob. "I don't under- 
 stand what the row is about. Pen said she married, 
 and she's got a kid. It will make her happy, for 
 she always loved kids." 
 
 But then the notice in her maiden name! Was 
 it not awful, horrible, brazen, peculiar, anti-social, 
 against all law ? It was wicked, immoral, indecent. 
 Behind it there must be a dreadful story. 
 
 " By God ! " said Bradstock, speaking at large 
 to all but Rivaulx, who was breaking up a cane 
 chair at a short distance, " I do think, oaths or 
 none, that the man who is married to her should 
 tell the duchess in confidence." 
 
 But Rivaulx heard in the intervals of destruction, 
 and stayed his hand. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " he said aloud, " I love her ! I am a 
 man ! I love her ! What shall I do ? " 
 
 He threw the fragments of the chair into a foun- 
 tain, kicked over a flower-pot, and ran again into 
 the park, taking the fence in his stride. 
 
 " I believe it's remorse," said Titania. " I begin 
 to suspect the marquis ! " 
 
 But everybody suspected everybody, and yet at 
 the very height of their rage what Bradstock said 
 sank into their hearts. Pen had selected them with 
 
176 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 care for their inherent nobility. They said to them- 
 selves that they would show how noble they were. 
 With one accord they straightened themselves up, 
 and an air of desperate resolve was upon every 
 man's face. 
 
 " I will think it out and make up my mind this 
 afternoon," said each of them. They walked away 
 in different directions, and in five minutes not one 
 of them was in sight but the marquis, who was 
 knocking his head against a sapling in a way that 
 caused the herd of Jerseys to revise their estimate 
 of humanity. Even he gave up at last, and went 
 off into the distance with great strides. 
 
 " I say," said Bob, " I don't know what to make 
 of this. Where are they going, and what are they 
 going to do? I wish I knew where Pen is; I'd 
 send her a telegram." 
 
 The rest of the party said nothing. Titania wept. 
 Old Goring asked Bradstock for a light, and at last 
 got his cigar going. He said nothing whatsoever. 
 Ethel Mytton was in a fearful state of nervousness, 
 and shook with it. Bradstock walked up and down 
 whistling. The men who were not in it gathered in 
 the billiard-room, and said they thought they had 
 better have urgent calls to town. They wanted 
 to discuss the scandal in their clubs. They knew 
 that there wasn't a house in England that would 
 
LADY PENELOPE i77 
 
 not consider their presence in the Hght of a tre- 
 mendous favour, considering all that had occurred 
 at Goring while they were there. They went, and 
 r^retted it afterward, for much occurred that very 
 afternoon that no man could have foreseen. 
 
 Not a soul came in to lunch but Bob and Brad- 
 stock and the old duke. 
 
 " Augustin, my boy," said Goring, " these are 
 surprising events, very surprising events. I thought 
 I understood something about women, but I find 
 I'm as ignorant as a two-year-old. What the devil 
 does Penelope mean ? " 
 
 Bob intervened. 
 
 " I believe, grandfather, that she wants to malce 
 you all sit up," he said, eagerly. 
 
 " Shut up, Bob," said the duke. " Eat pie and 
 hold your tongue. Augustin, is she married, or 
 isn't she?" 
 
 " I'm sure of it," said Bradstock, " but — " 
 
 " I think it's a damn silly business," said the 
 duke. " I can't remember any parallel except when 
 Miss Wimple, who was a devilish pretty girl fifty 
 years ago, married Prince Scharfskopf morganat- 
 ically, and kept it dark in spite of twins. There 
 was a devil of a fuss, but it was kept quiet, no 
 announcements in papers, and so on. The emperor 
 boxed Scharfskopf's ears in court when it came 
 
178 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 out, for it upset his diplomatic apple-cart, as 
 Scharfskopf was to have married Princess Hedwig 
 of Wigstein. She was virtuous and particular, and 
 made trouble, being thirty-five. Do you think 
 Penelope has married any damn prince, for in- 
 stance ? " 
 
 Bradstock didn't think so. 
 
 " Was any prince sneaking about, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, I say," cried Bob, who was listening 
 eagerly, "there was the Rajah of Jugpore!" 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Goring, " so there was. 
 I say, Bradstock, what have you to say to that? 
 I'd like to have a look at the infant. Damme, it's 
 a wonderful world ! " 
 
 And this bore its fruit afterward in scandal and 
 conjecture, for Bob threw out hints about it. But 
 in the meantime they could only talk, and presently 
 they saw the marquis coming across the lawn. He 
 kept on stopping and looking up at the sky, as if 
 for help or a balloon, and he smote his breast re- 
 peatedly in a very peculiar fashion. 
 
 " Queer cuss, Rivaulx," said Goring. " Takes it 
 hard. Give me a light, Bob. Look at the Johnny 
 smiting himself in the chest. What's he thinking 
 of now? Looks as if he was bound upon a des- 
 perate deed. Dear me, I hope there will be no 
 bloodshed, Bradstock! I'm too old for bloodshed 
 
LADY PENELOPE i79 
 
 now. I won't have duels in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of the house, Bradstock, mind that." 
 
 " All right," said Augustin, still looking at Ri- 
 vaulx gesticulating violently in front of a large 
 laurestinus. " Bob, give me those glasses." 
 
 Through the glass Rivaulx's face was plain to 
 see. 
 
 " Damn ! " said Augustin to himself, . " what's 
 up? He's going to do something, something des- 
 perate. He is looking like a hero on a scafifold. 
 He has an air of sad nobility. Oh, Pen, Pen ! " 
 
 Rivaulx advanced on the house with his head 
 up. He came in and sent word to the collapsed 
 duchess that he desired most humbly an audience 
 with her. Bob listened. 
 
 " He wanted to see granny," said Bob. 
 
 "Let him," said the duke. "I don't; I want 
 peace." 
 
 Titania sent down word that she would see him. 
 
 " Poor sad Penelope, poor mournful Penelope ! " 
 said Rivaulx. " Ha, but I will save her from fur- 
 ther woe! " 
 
 He found Titania on a sofa, and he kissed her 
 hand. This pleased poor Titania; it reminded her 
 of her youth. 
 
 " Oh, marquis, I am in despair ! " she cried. 
 
 " Despair not," said Rivaulx, as he stood up 
 
1 80 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 and smote his forehead, " despair not. All is not 
 lost. But for me, I stand between two dreadful 
 alternatives, and I have resolved to do my duty." 
 
 There was an air of tragedy about him' that cov- 
 ered him like a robe. Titania shivered. 
 
 " What is it? What have you to tell me? " 
 
 "Ah, what!" cried Rivaulx. "But I shall do 
 it. I shall do it at once, immediately, if not sooner, 
 as your poet says." 
 
 " You won't kill any one, at least not here," 
 shrieked Titania. 
 
 " Far from it," replied the marquis. " Oh, but 
 it is terrible, for I have to smash, to break an oath. 
 I swore not to reveal what I am about to reveal." 
 
 "Good heavens!" said Titania. "Oh, what? 
 Is it — can it be — no — " 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried Rivaulx, "it is true; I own 
 it!" 
 
 "Own what, marquis?" 
 
 He smote his breast and looked above her. 
 
 " I am the man ! " 
 
 "Oh, what man?" squealed the duchess. 
 
 " I am the husband — and — and — the father," 
 said Rivaulx, with a gulp, as if he were swallowing 
 an apple whole. 
 
 "Of my Penelope?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the marquis. " Say nothing. 
 
LADY PENELOPE i8i 
 
 It is a secret, full of oaths. Why, I know not, but 
 she, the dear, insists, and what am I ? " 
 
 Titania lay and gasped. The relief was tremen- 
 dous. Three hours ago she would ,have refused 
 to think of Rivaulx as Pen's husband. Now she 
 welcomed the notion ; she signed and almost 
 fainted. Rivaulx muttered strange things to him- 
 self. 
 
 " Can I announce it ? " 
 
 " No," said the marquis, " it is a secret. But 
 it is all right. I go." 
 
 " Take my blessing," said Titania. " Go to her 
 quickly, poor dear, and implore her to let me come 
 to ho", and bid her tell all the world. What is her 
 address ? " 
 
 " I cannot give it," said Rivaulx, pallidly. " It 
 is a secret. But I go, I hasten. Adieu, duchess ; 
 I am distracted. Oh, my mother and my country ! " 
 
 He fled from the room, and, leaving his man to 
 bring on his things, went away at an illegal speed 
 toward London. 
 
 " Well, well," said Titania, with a gasp, " I can- 
 not tfnderstand anything. But, after all, the mar- 
 quis is a fine man and of a good family. I could 
 almost sleep a little." 
 
 But just as she was composing herself to rest, 
 Mr. Plant sent up word that he wished to see her 
 
1 82 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 for a few moments on urgent business before he 
 went back to town. 
 
 " Let him come up," said the duchess. When 
 Plant entered, he stood bolt upright in front of her, 
 with a strange air of determination. 
 
 " I shall surprise you, I reckon," he said, in an 
 American accent as thick as petrol fumes. " I know 
 I shall." 
 
 " No, you won't," said Titania. " Nothing can 
 surprise me now, I assure you." 
 
 " I shall surprise you, ma'am," said Plant, " and 
 you'll have to own it. Prepare yourself and re- 
 member that what I tell you is in the nature of a 
 secret. I can stand it no longer. I have to let it 
 out. To hear Lady Penelope, whom I adore, 
 spoken of as I do, makes my blood boil. She may 
 have made some mistakes, but I've made some, too. 
 I am going to surprise you — " 
 
 " No, you are not, Mr. Plant," said Titania. 
 
 "I — I am Lady Penelope's husband," said 
 Plant, desperately, fixing his eyes on space. 
 
 " You are what? " shrieked Titania. 
 
 " Her husband — and — the parent of the an- 
 nouncement in the Times" said Plant, firmly. 
 
 " Am I mad ? " asked Titania. 
 
 " No, but I am," said Plant, who was as pale 
 
LADY PENELOPE 183 
 
 as a traditional ghost. " I'm mad both ways. I 
 want to kill." 
 
 " You mustn't," cried Titania, feebly. " I don't 
 know where I am. What did you say? Oh, say 
 it again ! " 
 
 He said it again, and before she. could say any- 
 thing further, he rushed from the room and 
 bounded down-stairs. She heard him turn his 
 motor-car loose, and knew that in twenty seconds 
 he was a mile away. 
 
 " What's wrong with everything, and me, and 
 them ? " asked Titania. " I wish I was a dairy- 
 maid in a quiet farm, and had no relations. Am 
 I mad? Did the marquis say it? Or did I dream 
 it?" 
 
 Lord Bramber was announced. 
 
 "Oh, oh, oh!" said Titania. "Yes, I'll see 
 him." 
 
 Bramber came in fuming, and, like the others, 
 fixed his eyes over her head. He was nervous and 
 abrupt. 
 
 " I can't stand any more, duchess," he began. 
 
 " I can't stand much," said Titania. 
 
 " It's a secret of course," said Bramber, " and 
 I'm breaking my word ! " 
 
 "Are you the husband of Penelope?" asked 
 Titania. 
 
1 84 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "I — I am," replied Bramber, " and the cause, 
 so to speak; of the notice in the Times." 
 
 " I thought so," said Titania. " Look at me, 
 Ronald. Do I look mad? does my hair stand on 
 end? do I seem wild and wandering?" 
 
 " No, of course not," said Bramber. " I'm tell- 
 ing you this because I feel I ought to. Now I'm 
 going to her at once. This last news was rather 
 unexpected, of course. Good-bye — " 
 
 " Stay! " shrieked Titania, but she was too late. 
 Bramber was down-stairs and bounded into his 
 motor-car and let her rip. 
 
 "What's the matter with everybody?" wailed 
 Titania. " The marquis made me happy, but now 
 I'm confused, very sadly confused, and I can't think 
 she's married them all." 
 
 Gordon was announced, and in about three sen- 
 tences he told her that, though the affair was a 
 secret, he was Penelope's husband. 
 
 " I knew you were," said Titania. " When I 
 heard you wanted to see me, I knew you were com- 
 ing to say so. Oh, good-bye. Ask Lord Brad- 
 stock toi send for a doctor. Good-bye, Mr. Gordon. 
 Go now." 
 
 And Gordon went, just as De Vere came in. 
 
 " You have come to say you have married Penel- 
 ope, I know," said Titania. " I feel sure you have." 
 
LADY PENELOPE i8S 
 
 "I have a heart for sorrow, for disgrace, for 
 all things lovely. I — I am responsiblfe for every- 
 thing, even the Times," said De Vere, who was 
 as pale as plaster. 
 
 " Leave me," said Titania. " Go and see her 
 at once. Settle who it is. Go ! " 
 
 And when he had gone, Carteret Williams and 
 Carew came one after the other with the same con- 
 fession. And she received them sadly, and appeared 
 to wander. When the house was empty, she sent 
 for Bradstock. 
 
 " Augustin, dear Augustin," she said, " you 
 won't let them put me in an asylum. Have me 
 taken care of at home, won't you ? Don't let Gor- 
 ing give me cruel keepers. I am quite gentle and 
 broken down ! " 
 
 " I won't let anything beastly be done," said 
 Bradstock. " But, my dear child, what's the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 And Titania told him. 
 
 " By the Lord," said Bradstock, " they are 
 damned good chaps! but where the devil are we? " 
 
 He went down-stairs when the doctor came and 
 told everything to Goring. And Goring told Bob. 
 For Titania forgot to mention to Augustin that all 
 the husbands had insisted it was a dead secret. 
 
 "I say," said Bob, "of all the larks I've ever 
 
1 86 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 heard of, this takes the cake! I wonder what I 
 ought to do. I think I'll ask Baker." 
 
 And he asked Baker. And in less than twenty- 
 four hours the world knew all about it. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 But when it is said that all the world knew of 
 it, Penelope herself must be excepted. She knew 
 nothing for some time, and, whoever her husband 
 was, he certainly never acquainted her with the 
 horrible details of all the good men who sacrificed 
 their honour in the noble attempt to save her from 
 the results of the terrible misfortune they believed 
 had happened to her. It was, indeed, Miss Mackar- 
 ness who told her about it, and Miss Mackamess 
 was the old governess whom Penelope had once 
 sacked and sent away. The poor woman was in 
 a terrible state of mind about the affair, and in that 
 was no different from all the rest of the world. 
 To her went Timothy Bunting with the strange 
 story. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am, Geordie Smith 'as just 
 brought in a paper wiv a true and pertic'ler account 
 of 'ow all the gents that was courtin' our lady told 
 the Duchess of Goring as 'ow they 'as married 'er ! " 
 
 " What ! " said Miss Mackamess. 
 J«7 
 
1 88 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " A true and perticuler account as 'ow they 'ad 
 hall married our lady, sayin' as they 'ad concealed 
 it till they could no longer ! " repeated Timothy 
 more loudly. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Miss Mackarness, trem- 
 bling very much, " I fear it will upset Lady Penel- 
 ope, to say nothing of the infant. Do they all claim 
 the infant, Bunting?" 
 
 " I presume so, ma'am," said Bunting. " It looks 
 likely." 
 
 " Under these circumstances. Bunting," cried 
 Miss Mackarness, " I feel it is my duty to com- 
 municate the facts to our lady. Give me the paper. 
 Bunting!" 
 
 Bunting said he would get it, and came back with 
 a hatful of fragments. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am, this is hall I can rescue 
 of the details. The cook and the parlour-maid and 
 the two 'ousemaids 'ave fought over it in the ser- 
 vants' 'all, and are now in tears, not 'aving read 
 a word." 
 
 And Miss Mackarness took the hatful up to Pe^ 
 nelope, who sat with her nurse and the cause of 
 all the trouble in a south room overlooking the 
 moat. 
 
 " In the name of all that is wonderful, what's 
 in that hat ? " asked Penelope. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 189 
 
 " It is Timothy Bunting's hat, my lady," replied 
 the Mackamess. 
 
 " So I perceive," said Penelope. " Is a bird 
 in it?" 
 
 " Oh, no, my lady. It's the bits of a news- 
 paper," replied the housekeeper, as if she served 
 up the Times in a groom's hat every day. " It's 
 Timothy's hat, but a clean new one." 
 
 " But why do you bring it, and why do you put 
 newspaper in it? " asked Penelope. 
 
 " If you please, my lady, I cannot help it. The 
 cook and the parlour-maid and the two housemaids 
 fought over it in the servants' hall, and are now in 
 tears, not having read a word of it." 
 
 To all appearance the housekeeper had lost her 
 senses. Though this was no wonder, Penelope 
 wondered at it. 
 
 " Well," she said at last, " I see what's in the 
 hat, but what's in the newspaper ? " 
 
 " If you please, my lady, according to Timothy 
 Bunting and Smith, who appear to have read it, 
 it contains the true account of what happened at 
 Goring House the other day, when all the gentle^ 
 men staying there, hearing from the Times that 
 your ladyship had a fine boy on the eighteenth, and 
 no husband named by your ladyship's particular 
 directions, all got up one after the other, and, re- 
 
190 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 questing private interviews with her upset Grace, 
 the duchess, declared upon their oaths, though in 
 secret, that they had married you themselves ! " 
 
 She recited this in a strange, mechanical way, 
 which would have been extremely effective upon 
 the stage, as a picture of hopeless conventionality 
 wounded to death, and at last dying in sheer indif- 
 ference to all things. 
 
 " Dear me! " said Penelope, " dear me! " 
 
 " It furthermore appears, my lady, begging your 
 pardon for mentioning it, and I have reproved Bunt- 
 ing bitterly for daring to do so, though I haven't 
 read the fragments in the hat, that no one believes 
 your ladyship's word at all as to your being mar- 
 ried." 
 
 " Oh, how shameful ! " said Penelope. " Why, 
 here's baby ! " 
 
 The nurse coughed and hid her mouth with her 
 hand. 
 
 " Yes, my lady, so he is," said Miss Mackarness. 
 " There doesn't seem any doubt whatsoever about 
 that, but — " 
 
 And Penelope sighed. Suddenly her face lighted 
 up. 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, " I see why they said it to 
 aunty. How very, very noble of them! I knew 
 they were all splendid men; men of the highest 
 
LADY PENELOPE 191 
 
 character and attainments and possibilities. Will 
 you have telegrams written out to all of them, say- 
 ing, ' Your conduct is noble, and I am deeply grate- 
 ful'?" 
 
 " Yes, my lady," replied the housekeeper, " and 
 how will you sign it ? " 
 
 " Sign it Penelope Brading," said Penelope. 
 " And tell Smith to take his car as quickly as he 
 can to Spilsborough, and send them from there." 
 
 She lay back in her pillows. 
 
 " They are noble fellows," she said. " I have 
 done them an immense amount of good. A year 
 ago not one of them could have risen to such heights 
 of abnegation, such love, such tenderness. I shall 
 see them bringing in a new era yet. Leopold Gor- 
 don will inaugurate a new and pure finance. The 
 dear marquis will abolish anti-Semitism and duel- 
 ling in France. De Vere will write poems of a 
 purity appealing equally to Brixton and Belgravia, 
 and my dear friend Carew will vindicate the Royal 
 Academy's policy of showing that charity begins 
 at home. And the rest — ah, me ! Poor dear 
 aunty, how I love her!" 
 
 And by the time that she had pondered over a 
 renewed world, Geordie Smith was sending off 
 the wires from Spilsborough with wonderful re- 
 sults. 
 
192 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I like this," said Smith. " This is what I like! 
 There's nothing dull about it. I wonder what'U 
 happen now? I'll lay five to one I can guess!" 
 
 He guessed right as to some, for in about four 
 hours Rufus Plant arrived in Spilsborough on his 
 racing-car, and put up at the Grand Hotel. 
 
 " I guess she must be somewhere in this neigh- 
 bourhood," said Plant. " And here I stay till I 
 find her. And by the tail of the sacred bull, what- 
 ever happens, I'll marry her right here in this hyer 
 noble pile of a cathedral. And if she'll do it, I'll 
 restore it for the authorities free of charge, till it's 
 as gawdy as a breastpin and right up to date." 
 
 He ran against Gordon, and the two men fell 
 back in horrible surprise. 
 
 "You — " 
 
 "You!" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Plant, " I'm here on business 
 connected with the cathedral." 
 
 " And I'm to see the — bishop, who will join the 
 board on allotment," mumbled Gordon. 
 
 And then Goby roared into town on his motor- 
 car. The others saw him, and he saw them, and 
 ignored them palely. He, too, put up at the Grand, 
 but never spoke to them. And De Vere came in 
 while they were at dinner, and sat down opposite 
 
LADY PENELOPE i93 
 
 to Goby. He said, " Oh ! " and, rising, at once 
 bolted from the table. 
 
 " I'm damned," said Goby, and he lost his appe- 
 tite. 
 
 " How many more of us ? " they asked them- 
 selves. 
 
 They looked up at every one who entered. 
 
 " Bramber will be in any moment," said Plant. 
 
 Poor De Vere sat in his bedroom and was 
 ill. 
 
 " If I look out into the corridor, I know I shall 
 see that beast Williams," he sobbed. 
 
 " Where's that French fool, Rivaulx ? " asked 
 Gordon. They all believed the other was the scoun- 
 drel of the dreadful drama. 
 
 And then the evening papers came in. They 
 declared in big lines that there had been " A Fracas 
 in High Life." They added that it had taken place 
 in the Row at four o'clock that very afternoon. 
 They went on to say that Lord Bramber and the 
 Marquis de Rivaulx, well known as a great sports- 
 man and a balloonist, had fought in a flower-bed, 
 and had been torn from each other's arms and a 
 big rhododendron by two dukes, three earls, and 
 a viscount. They further declared that it was a 
 matter of public notoriety that all the trouble rose 
 out of the mystery connected with the Times and 
 
194 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Lady Penelope Brading. They promised more de- 
 tails in later editions. 
 
 " They'll fight," said Gordon, savagely. " I hope 
 they'll kill each other. But especially I hope that 
 the marquis will be killed first and most ! " 
 
 And about eleven o'clock Rivaulx turned up with 
 his chauffeur and a bad black eye. 
 
 " He shall fight me here," said Rivaulx. " This 
 is a quiet town. No one will think of Spilsbor- 
 ough ! He does not know that she sent me a tele- 
 gram from here ! " 
 
 He put up at the Angel, and escaped seeing the 
 others for the time. On his way up he had sent 
 a defiant telegram to Bramber, desiring him to come 
 to Spilsborough, and fight there with swords or 
 pistols or any weapon that commended itself to him. 
 This telegram Bramber never got, for, on reaching 
 home and washing away the traces of the struggle 
 in Hyde Park before all the loveliness of London, 
 he had found his telegram from Spilsborough sent 
 by Geordie Smith. After looking in the A B C 
 guide, and finding no good train, he pelted off in 
 his motor-car, leaving a note for Rivaulx, saying 
 that, though duels were absurd and illegal, he would 
 not refuse to meet the marquis in France or Bel- 
 gium, if he desired to make a bigger fool of himself 
 than he had already done in the park. 
 
LADY PENELOPE iQS 
 
 " Curse and confound them all," said Bramber, 
 who was horribly cross and exceedingly sick of the 
 whole world, even including Penelope. " I wonder 
 what she means by this telegram. I wish I was 
 dead! Is she at Spilsborough ? " 
 
 Just in the middle of Spilsborough he met Ri- 
 vaulx and pulled up short, not having the least 
 notion, of course, that he would meet him there. 
 But Rivaulx grinned a ghastly smile and raised 
 his hat, as Bramber stopped. 
 
 " Ha, I am pleased to see you," said the French 
 marquis. " You have come quickly. It is a fine 
 night, there is a moon, and close by here under 
 the shadow of the cathedral there is a most beauti- 
 ful piece of grass. There we will fight. I have 
 brought swords with me. Or have you brought 
 guns ? " 
 
 " I haven't brought guns," said Bramber, who 
 was entirely stunned and at a loss for a word. 
 
 The marquis bowed. 
 
 " We will fight with swords, my lord. I think 
 this hotel is good; the lady is amiable; there are 
 rooms to spare. When the moon rises, ha ! I will 
 call you forth." 
 
 And Bramber went to the hotel to think what he 
 should do. 
 
196 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " The ass ! the lunatic ! How did he get here? 
 I can't get out of fighting him." 
 
 He sat outside in his car. 
 
 " No, I won't. I'm damned if I do ! " he said. 
 
 He went in and wrote a note for Rivaulx, who 
 was out in the cathedral close picking what he con- 
 sidered a good place for a duel. , The spot he chose 
 was not far from the dean's house. 
 
 " I wish it had been Mr. Plant," he said. " Of 
 Bramber, who is a young ass, I am not jealous. 
 But of Plant I am horribly jealous, and he is a bad 
 man. If I met Plant I would say, ' Fight me at 
 once now, and I will put off Lord Bramber till 
 another day.' " 
 
 And, going around the corner, he ran right into 
 Plant, who was raging about the town, wondering 
 where Penelope was and how everything was going 
 to end. 
 
 " The scoundrel is that marquis," said Plant. 
 And he ran into the scoundrel's arms. 
 
 And just while Bramber was shaking the dust 
 of Spilsborough from the tires of his motor-car, 
 Bob himself came into the town in a hired Daimler, 
 full of the most extraordinary news. And Titania 
 was having a series of fits down at Goring, with 
 Dr. Lumsden Griff in attendance. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It cannot be imagined that Titania, who had sur- 
 vived so many shocks, was ill for nothing'. When 
 Bob discovered what she was ill of, he stood outside 
 on the lawn with his hands deep in his pockets and 
 with his legs wide apart. / 
 
 " I must tell 'em this at once," said Bob, gloom- 
 ily. " If I don't tell Gordon, he'll forget he's in- 
 vested a hundred of mine in something to make 
 hair curl, and I shall lose the money. I mean to 
 make money to keep up Goring by and by. And 
 he said he'd make me a director, too. For the sake 
 of the family, I can't neglect him. Or De Vere, 
 either. Or any of 'em. But — but I never thought 
 it of Pen!" 
 
 With his pockets full of money derived from the 
 sale of dogs to De Vere, he rushed off to the sta- 
 tion and caught a train for town. When he reached 
 London, he sent a wire to " Old Guth." 
 
 " I'm in town on important business. Break it 
 
 to grandmother between fits. I hope to be back 
 
 to-morrow." 
 
 197 
 
198 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 He rushed off to Park Lane to find Gordon. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon has gone to Spilsborough, sir," 
 said Gordon's man. 
 
 " D — I mean confound it ! " said Bob. He went 
 to Plant's. 
 
 " Mr. Plant went to Spilsborough in a great 
 hurry this afternoon, sir," said Plant's landlady. 
 The American millionaire still lived in Bloonisbury, 
 though not on ten shillings a week. 
 
 " Oh," said Bob, " I wonder what this means. 
 There's a secret here! " 
 
 He drove in a hansom to find Bramber. A very 
 ingenuous piece of humanity in buttons told Bob 
 that Lord Bramber came in about four o'clock torn 
 to ribbons, and found a telegram waiting him. 
 
 " And off he went in his motor-car." 
 
 "Where?" asked Bob. 
 
 " I don't know," said the buttons. But on Bob's 
 going to Bramber's room, he found the ABC open 
 on the table at the page with Spilsborough on it. 
 
 " Sherlock Holmes would say he has gone to 
 Spilsborough," cried Bob. " And if Gordon and 
 Plant have gone there, too, I'll bet all the rest have 
 gone. I'll go, too." 
 
 But there was no train for three hours ! 
 
 •• I'm done," said Bob. " No, I'm not. I'll hire 
 a motor-car." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 199 
 
 He went to the nearest place in Regent Street 
 and hired one. 
 
 " Very well, sir," said the man, " but it's rather 
 expensive, you know." 
 
 Bob pulled out a handful of sovereigns. 
 
 " Take as many as you think fair," he said, 
 grandly. " And don't forget I want a speedy one, 
 and a man that can drive, and I'll pay the fines of 
 course ! " 
 
 That was how he came to Spilsborough just in 
 time and about the hour when the moon was to 
 rise. He passed a motor-car in the ditch about 
 ten miles out of the cathedral city, and did not stop 
 to find out what was the matter. He thus missed 
 the discovery that Bramber and his chauffeur were 
 both sitting upon the wreck, using very awful lan- 
 guage to each other on the subject of losing the 
 way and coming bolt down a side road intO' the 
 opposing hedge. It is astonishing how an accident 
 at thirty miles an hour brings owners and mechan- 
 ics down to the same human level. 
 
 When Bob reached Spilsborough, he was covered 
 with dust, but was as spry as a grasshopper and 
 awfully full of his news. 
 
 " You can 'drive," said Bob to his man. " I'm 
 very much pleased with you. Stop at this hotel." 
 
200 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 He went into the Angel, and staggered blithely 
 to the office. 
 
 " Is Mr. Gordon here, or Mr. Plant, or the Mar- 
 quis of Rivaulx? " he demanded. 
 
 He thus discovered the marquis. 
 
 He drove off tO' the Grand, and found Plant and 
 Goby and De Vere and Gordon were there. They 
 were all in bed but Plant, and Plant had gone to 
 see the cathedral by moonlight. 
 
 " All right, we'll put up here," said Bob, " and 
 I'll see if I can find Plant. I say, I wonder what 
 Baker will think of this ? It beats me ! " 
 
 He got to the cathedral precincts just about an 
 hour after Rivaulx and Plant had run into each 
 other's arms. Much had occurred since then. 
 
 For Rivaulx started back from Plant and almost 
 forgot the existence of Bramber. 
 
 " You are a scoundrrrel," said Rivaulx, rolling 
 his r's in the most fearful manner. 
 
 "You are a lunatic," rephed Plant, coolly; 
 " when did you escape? " 
 
 " I have not escaped, I am here," snorted Ri- 
 vaulx, " but you shall not escape. I meant to kill 
 Lord Bramber upon this spot, but I prefer to keel 
 you. I let him go; he is nothing. You are the 
 scoundrrel ! " 
 
 "Oh, dry up!" said Plant, crossly. "You tire 
 
LADY PENELOPE 201 
 
 me, you fatigue me very much. I am exhausted 
 by looking at you. Go home, or I will break you 
 in three pieces and eat them 1 " 
 
 Rivaulx foamed at the mouth. 
 
 "Do you refuse to fight me, sare?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Plant. " Take your coat 
 off and hang it on a tombstone, and I'll leave noth- 
 ing of you but a smear." 
 
 " I do not fight with fists," said Rivaulx, con- 
 temptuously. " I fight with swords, with steel, 
 with guns or pistols." 
 
 Plant shook his head. 
 
 " I've none of 'em about me, my son ! " 
 
 " At the hotel I have swords," cried Rivaulx, 
 eagerly. " I brought them to kill Bramber, who 
 punched my eye in the Rotten Row, and we rolled 
 in bushes. But I will first fight you. Wait and I 
 fetch the swords." 
 
 He ran violently into the darkness, and Plant 
 sat on a railing. 
 
 " What am I to do? Am I to wait and fight a 
 lunatic? Or shall I go back to the hotel? I think 
 I'll go back. If that raging idiot is found prancing 
 about here with swords, they will run him in." 
 
 But he did not know how fast the marquis could 
 run and how near the hotel was. Before he had 
 
202 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 made up his mind to go, Rivaulx came back again. 
 He flung the swords at Plant's feet. 
 
 " Take one and let us begin," he said. 
 
 " I think on the whole I'll have both," said Plant, 
 suiting the action to the word. " Now go home, 
 marquis, like a good little boy, and come to the 
 Grand Hotel in the morning and tell me why you 
 want to be hanged in England." 
 
 He put both the weapons under his arm. 
 
 " You will not fight? " said the marquis, gasping 
 like a dying dolphin. 
 
 "What kind of a galoot do' you reckon me?" 
 asked Plant, quite unintelligibly. 
 
 " Ha ! " said the marquis, " I know not what a 
 galoot is, but I will fight you here and leave your 
 body on the grass." 
 
 Neither of them had observed the approach of a 
 portly and pleasant gentleman behind them. He 
 was now leaning upon the railing, watching them 
 with a great deal of kindly curiosity. 
 
 " I think, gentlemen, that the dean will object," 
 he said at length, and they both turned around sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " You must not interfere," said Rivaulx ; " we 
 do not know you." 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure," replied the gentleman, 
 who was dressed very curiously, as Rivaulx noticed. 
 
RUFUS Q PLANT 
 Born in Virginia 
 
LADY PENELOPE 203 
 
 " I hate interfering, especially with anything be- 
 longing to a dean. Deans, gentlemen, are very 
 touchy about matters connected with their cathe- 
 drals. Now Dean Briggs, gentlemen, takes the 
 very greatest care of that grass on which you both 
 are now illegally trampling, and I understand that 
 he has made a rule never to have duels upon it. 
 He is very firm on that point. Do I mistake you 
 if I say that it looks to an unprejudiced observer 
 as if you were going to fight a duel? " 
 
 Rivaulx bowed. 
 
 " I do not know you, sare, and I do not want to. 
 I want to keel this man, who is a scoundrrel." 
 
 The stranger addressed Plant. 
 
 " And are you equally anxious to break this very 
 rigid rule of the dean's ? " he asked, suavely. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Plant; " I want to go 
 to bed." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it. I am intensely grati- 
 fied to hear it. If one duellist, having possession of 
 both deadly weapons, desires to go to bed, I cannot 
 see anything to hinder him, unless, indeed, he wants 
 to lie down on Mr. Dean's grass. You see, gentle- 
 men, I am a bishop, and a bishop's first desire is 
 to be on good terms with the dean. If Mr. Dean 
 heard that I encouraged any one to break his rules 
 about duelling or going to bed in the precincts of 
 
204 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 this cathedral, I should not be on good terms with 
 him, I assure you." 
 
 " I do not understand," said Rivaulx. " I want 
 to fight, that is all I want to do ! " 
 
 " Stay ! " said the bishop, mildly. " If the some- 
 what excited gentleman, who is, I gather, not an 
 Englishman, will accompany me a few yards, we 
 will go to the dean's, with whom I have been din- 
 ing, and will refer the matter to him." 
 
 " Of course," said Plant, " that is the right thing 
 to do. Marquis, his lordship the bishop suggests 
 the only course open to gentlemen. I trust you will 
 accept his offer, and, if you do, I undertake to 
 fight you if the dean gives his permission." 
 
 " Stay, sare, my lord the bishop," said Rivaulx, 
 " one moment, sare, the bishop. Is this dean of 
 whom you speak a gentleman ? " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied the bishop, hastily. 
 " He is of the highest breeding, and in his youth he 
 fenced like a fencing-master." 
 
 " Then he understands the code of honour, sare 
 the bishop? " 
 
 " Absolutely, for a dean," replied his lordship. 
 
 " Then I agree, sir lord," cried Rivaulx. 
 
 " Ha, we will go to his house, then," said the 
 bishop, " if you will step over this railing. But 
 stop here one moment and observe the moon rising 
 
LADY PENELOPE 205 
 
 over Mr. Dean's cathedral. Is it not a peaceful, 
 pleasant spot, gentlemen ? " 
 
 " It beats thunder," said Plant. 
 
 " It does, it does," nodded his lordship. " Many 
 Americans, who admire this cathedral immensely, 
 have made the same acute observation. May I ask 
 your names, gentlemen? I am the bishop of this 
 diocese" 
 
 " My name is Plant, Rufus Q. Plant, and my 
 friend is the Marquis of Rivaulx." 
 
 " Indeed," returned the bishop, " is the gentle- 
 man the French nobleman who is interested in bal- 
 loons?" 
 
 " Yes," said Plant. 
 
 " Dear me ! I am delighted," said his lordship. 
 " I, too, am interested in balloons. I saw one go 
 up once." 
 
 " You like them ? " asked Rivaulx, warmly. 
 " That is good ! I will take you up in one." 
 
 " We will talk of it later," said the bishop, rather 
 hastily for a man of his gentle flowing speech. 
 " But this is the dean's house. If I knock at this 
 window, he will put his head out." 
 
 He knocked at the window, and Mr. Dean did 
 put his head out. 
 
 " I am so loath to disturb you, Mr. Dean," said 
 his lordship, " but, as I was leaving you and taking 
 
2o6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 a little stroll before retiring, I met two gentlemen, 
 one from the United States and one a French mar- 
 quis, who were engaged in a warm discussion on 
 a point of honour. I am ignorant of the exact 
 point, and I dare say there is no necessity for our 
 knowing. As a result of this discussion, the French 
 marquis desired to fight a duel with swords (you 
 will observe them under the arm of the gentleman 
 from the United States), and I ventured to inter- 
 vene, as the duel was to take place upon your grass." 
 
 " Humph, indeed ! " said the dean, in great as- 
 tonishment. " And what did you say ? " 
 
 " I said that it was against your rules to allow 
 any one to fight duels there. Was I not right ? " 
 
 " Rather ! " said the dean. " I should say so." 
 
 " And on the other hand," continued the bishop, 
 " the gentleman from across the Atlantic wished 
 to go to bed." 
 
 "Then why the — why doesn't he?" asked the 
 dean. 
 
 " It seemed to me that the gentleman from across 
 the water wanted to go to bed upon your grass," 
 said the bishop. " I pointed out to him that there 
 was a very old and strict rule dating from the time 
 beyond record which forbade this. Was I not 
 right?" 
 
 " You were," said the dean. " I never go to 
 
LADY PENELOPE 207 
 
 bed on the grass myself, and do not permit others 
 to do so. I never fight duels there, either, and do 
 not allow it." 
 
 " You see, gentlemen," said the bishop, but be- 
 fore he could add another word Bob rushed right 
 upon the group outside the dean's windows, and 
 saw that Plant made one of them. He saw the 
 swords also, and then recognized Rivaulx. 
 
 " Oh, I say," said Bob, " you were going to fight 
 a duel about Pen ! I've come in time ! It's no good. 
 She has married Timothy Bunting, her groom ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It was such an awful shock to Plant and Rivaulx, 
 and, for the matter of that, to his lordship the 
 Bishop of Spilsborough, that they all gasped dread- 
 fully. Plant took the bishop by the sleeve. Rivaulx 
 lay down upon the grass under the dean's window, 
 and howled as he tore at the turf. The dean said : 
 
 " I'll come out ! This is becoming serious ! " 
 
 He came out, and, as he opened the door, the 
 light of the hall lamp fell upon Bob's face. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the bishop, " I thought I 
 knew the voice. Is that you, Robert Goring? " 
 
 Bob said it was, but added that he didn't know 
 the bishop. 
 
 " Boy, I christened you," said the bishop. " Is 
 all this trouble about Penelope Brading, whom I 
 also christened ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Bob; " shall I tell you about it? " 
 
 " Let us retire a few paces, and you can tell me," 
 
 said the bishop. " In the meantime, Mr. Dean, 
 
 I beg you to exercise patience with the French 
 
 nobleman on the grass. Come, Bob." 
 
 208 
 
LADY PENELOPE 209 
 
 " Well, it's awful rot, you know," said Bob, 
 speaking very rapidly. " We don't know where 
 we are in the family, and grandmother is lying on 
 a sofa screaming." 
 
 "Why, Bob?" 
 
 " You must have heard of it." 
 
 The bishop had heard a great deal, but not all. 
 
 " Pen says she's married and has a kid," said Bob, 
 " and she won't say who it is. And all these jos- 
 sers, including Plant, he's the American over there, 
 and the marquis chewing the grass, said they had 
 married her themselves. Do you see, sir, — my 
 lord, I mean ? " 
 
 " I see," said the bishop, putting his finger-tips 
 together. " It was, I think, very noble of them." 
 
 " But granny said it was very trying, and it made 
 her ill, for she wasn't any further than before, 
 unless Pen had married them all. And grandfather, 
 who kept cool, said that was unlikely." 
 
 " It certainly seems unlikely," said the bishop. 
 " But when you came to us, you made some very 
 astonishing remarks about a groom, one Bunting, 
 I think. Now what is there to know about him? " 
 
 " Weekes said that, the beast 1 " cried Bob. 
 
 " Who is the beast Weekes ? " asked the bishop. 
 
 Bob told him who Miss Harriet Weekes was. 
 
 " And not an hour after these had said they were 
 
2IO LADY PENELOPE 
 
 married to Pen', this Weekes woman came in black 
 and in a cab and said she must see granny. And 
 granny saw her, and is now in fits, with the doctor 
 feeling her pulse and giving her brandy. For 
 Weekes was very solemn (I listened), and she said: 
 ' Your Grace, I shall reveal the truth, which lies 
 upon my bosom like a tombstone. Her ladyship 
 treated me cruel, and gave me the sack moreover, 
 and I've no call to be silent no more 'avin' diskiv- 
 ered the truth.' She talks like that. Weekes is an 
 uneducated beast, and why Pen ever had her as a 
 maid I can't tell. And granny was confused with 
 the others, having said they were all married to 
 Pen, and she waggled her head awfully. * I shall 
 surprise your Grace,' said Weekes, and granny said 
 she wouldn't. And she said, ' I shall surprise your 
 Grace, for I've to reveal that I know the man, the 
 serpent, that her ladyship 'as married.' And granny 
 smiled very curiously, and said, ' Weekes, who do 
 you say it is ? ' And then Weekes cried, the croco^ 
 dile, and she said that Penelope had married Tim- 
 othy Bunting, the groom, and that Timothy had 
 been engaged to her, and had as good as told her 
 that he was looking high and despised a public- 
 house at a corner. I don't know what she meant. 
 And she was so solemn and furious that granny 
 believed her, and went off into fit after fit most 
 
LADY PENELOPE 211 
 
 awful, my lord, and they sent for the doctor, and 
 I came away, for I knew the others would fight 
 when they learnt that all of them had said the same 
 thing. And I believe it is Timothy myself." 
 
 " Dear, dear me! " said the bishop, " this is even 
 more remarkable than I anticipated from the very 
 strange reports in the papers. But I think you have 
 done well, Robert, and I do not regret having chris- 
 tened you by any means, which is more than I can 
 say for some of the aristocracy. Let us return to 
 the dean, who is, I am afraid, having some trouble 
 with the French marquis. He is not accustomed 
 to foreign noblemen and to Americans, except when 
 they come here to see his cathedral." 
 
 They turned toward the deanery, where Rivaulx 
 was still rolling on the grass. 
 
 "Do you think it is Timothy?" asked Bob. 
 
 The bishop shook his head gently. 
 
 " I do not see what grounds we have to go on, 
 Robert. Here we have an American who states, 
 if I understand you rightly, that he has married 
 my poor Penelope, and a French marquis of high 
 repute who also states the same. And there are 
 others — " 
 
 " Five or six ! " said Bob. 
 
 " And there are five or six others who commit 
 themselves to the same statement. And then a 
 
212 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 lady's maid says she knows that Penelope has mar- 
 ried a groom. I do not see what logical grounds 
 we have for concluding anything more than that 
 some one has told a lie, or that Penelope has been 
 breaking the law by marrying more than one man 
 at a time. Speaking a priori, I think this latter 
 alternative unlikely, and, as a matter of probability, 
 I am forced to believe that only one at least out 
 of seven (is it seven?) gentlemen of unblemished 
 reputation has told the truth." 
 
 It was all very sad. But there were practical 
 details to be attended to. Though the marquis had 
 ceased to raise the echoes of the stilly night, to say 
 nothing of the echoes of the cathedral's west front, 
 he was still in a fearfully mournful condition. He 
 was now weeping in the dean's arms, and the dean 
 was endeavouring tO' soothe him as best he could. 
 When the bishop came back, Mr. Dean seemed 
 much relieved. 
 
 " Don't you think you could get them to go away, 
 bishop ? " he inquired, pathetically. " This kind of 
 thing is beyond my experience, and I am extremely 
 fatigued by it." 
 
 " I will do my best," replied the bishop. 
 
 Turning to the marquis, he said: 
 
 " Get up, marquis. I will walk with you to the 
 hotel. Mr. Plant, please follow with Robert, and 
 
LADY PENELOPE 213 
 
 be good enough to take care of those lethal instru- 
 ments, which are, I rejoice to say, little understood 
 in a quiet cathedral town. It appears to me we are 
 all in a state of mind which needs repose. On the 
 morrow, after I have slept upon it, I shall be happy 
 to receive you all and give you the best advice in 
 my power. Now, marquis, I am waiting for you. 
 The grass is damp." 
 
 And they walked to the hotel, leaving the dean 
 staring open-mouthed. 
 
 " This is very unusual," sighed the dean. " I 
 cannot recollect anything exactly like it in my long 
 experience." 
 
 No more could the bishop. Plant was in the 
 same state of mind. Rivaulx wept silently. Bob 
 was in the seventh heaven of delight, in spite of 
 Bunting. He thoroughly believed in what Harriet 
 Weekes said. Neither Plant nor Rivaulx knew that 
 he knew they both claimed to be Pen's husband. 
 
 " This story of Bunting is a goldarned lie," said 
 Plant, hoarsely. Bob did not reply. He was sorry 
 for them all, and relied on the bishop. What he 
 relied on him for he did not know. All he did 
 know was that the bishop seemed fully equal to 
 the situation. 
 
 " How many more of you are there, Mr. Plant? " 
 he asked at length. 
 
214 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Gordon and Goby and De Vere," replied Plant, 
 miserably. 
 
 " I must see Mr. Gordon," said Bob. And then 
 they came to the Angel. By this time Rivaulx and 
 the bishop were great friends, for Rivaulx was a 
 clerical in his heart of hearts, and, if there wasn't 
 a Catholic bishop to lean on, a Protestant one was 
 a good substitute. He stopped weeping, and held 
 the bishop's hand. 
 
 " You are a good man, sare bishop," he said. 
 " I wish I was a good bishop, but I cannot. Life 
 is a very terrible thing. I wish I could cut my 
 throat. I am weary." 
 
 " I should go to bed," said the bishop, " arid I'll 
 look in and see you in the morning. Bed is the 
 best place when one is weary. I assure you that I 
 am not wholly ignorant of the world, or of the 
 desire to cut my throat, but I find that after a good 
 night's rest the wish to do so evaporates, and one 
 determines to live for another twelve hours at least. 
 But before you go, I hope you will give me your 
 word that you will cut no one else's." 
 
 " I give it," said Rivaulx. " The desire to kill 
 Mr. Plant has left me. I am no longer furious, 
 "even with Bramber. I am simply sad and fearfully 
 mournful. I thank you, sare; good night." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 215 
 
 " Good night," said the bishop. " Stay, marquis, 
 I think Mr. Plant has the weapons." 
 
 The marquis waved them off. 
 
 " I have no need of them. I give them you, sare 
 bishop. Take them." 
 
 And when the bishop had bidden Plant and Bob 
 good night, and had arranged to see Bob in the 
 morning, the curious sight might have been wit- 
 nessed of a great ornament of the Episcopal bench 
 walking through the precincts of the cathedral to 
 his palace, with a couple of duelling-swords under 
 his arm. 
 
 " This has been a very interesting evening," said 
 the bishop. " I very much wander what Ridley 
 will think when he sees me come in. A butler's 
 mind is naturally limited." 
 
 He went in and gave the swords to Ridley. 
 
 " Take these," said his lordship. 
 
 " Yes, m'lord," said Ridley, stolidly. 
 
 " I think you can hang them up in the dining- 
 room, Ridley." 
 
 " Yes, m'lord." 
 
 " They are trophies, Ridley." 
 
 " So I perceive, m'lord," said Ridley. 
 
 "What wre trophies, Ridley?" 
 
 "These, m'lord," said Ridley. 
 
 " Exactly so," said his lordship. 
 
2i6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 And while he was taking off his gaiters and 
 thinking of Penelope, Bob was sitting on the edge 
 of Gordon's bed and telling him all about it. 
 
 " Why are you here? " asked Bob. 
 
 " She sent me a telegram," said poor Gordon. 
 
 " I say, what about ? " 
 
 " Sayin' I wath a noble character and so on," 
 replied Gordon, miserably, " and I came here at 
 onth becauth the telegram came from here." 
 
 As the sleep went out of his eyes, he talked less 
 Hebraically. 
 
 " I thought she might be here," he added, shak- 
 ing his curly head. 
 
 Bob thought very hard. 
 
 " I say, this is awfully mixed, Mr. Gordon, be- 
 cause I know you told granny you were married 
 to Pen!" 
 
 Gordon gulped something down. It was prob- 
 ably very bad language. 
 
 " So — so I am," he said, sternly, without look- 
 ing at Bob. 
 
 " Rivaulx says so, too." 
 
 "The devil!" cried Gordon. 
 
 "And so does Goby and Rivaulx and Bramber 
 and De Vere and all of 'em ! " 
 
 Gordon fell back on his pillows. 
 
 " So you see," said Bob, " we're no further than 
 
■ LADY PENELOPE 217 
 
 we were, except that Weekes, who used to be Pen's 
 maid, came to granny this afternoon and told her, 
 the beast, that Pen had married Timothy Bunt- 
 
 ing!" 
 
 Gordon bounced out of bed in his night-shirt. 
 
 "Who the devil is Timothy Bunting?" he 
 roared. 
 
 Bob told him. 
 
 " It's a lie — a lie ! " 
 
 " Of course it must be, if you've married her, 
 as you say," said Bob. " But perhaps I'm disturb- 
 ing you. Would you like to go to sleep ? " 
 
 " Very much indeed," replied Gordon. " I should 
 like to go to sleep and stay asleep. I wish you'd 
 go and serve Goby and De Vere as you've served 
 me!" 
 
 " I'm so sorry," said Bob, " but you always said 
 you wanted any news, and that's why I told you 
 first." 
 
 Gordon held out his hand, and Bob shook it 
 warmly. 
 
 " By the way," he asked, " what about the hair 
 restorer ? " 
 
 " What hair restorer ? " asked the astonished 
 Hebrew. 
 
 " The one you put ninety poimds of mine in, 
 sir." 
 
2i8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " It wasn't in a hair restorer. What makes you 
 say so?" 
 
 " Well," replied Bob, " I thought it was. You 
 said it would make ray hair curl. How much did 
 it make, whatever it was ? " 
 
 A glow of pleasure spread over Gordon's sad 
 countenance. Making money was something even 
 in despair. 
 
 " My boy, I bought you Amalekites at half a 
 crown, five hundred and sixty of 'em, and now 
 they're at £4." 
 
 " Dear me," said Bob, " how much does that 
 make? Why, it's £2,240." 
 
 " Less commission," agreed the financier. 
 
 " By Jove, that's a very, very good beginning," 
 said Bob. " Do you think they will go up more, 
 Mr. Gordon?" 
 
 Gordon looked at him and sighed. 
 
 " They might. But don't you think it would be 
 safer to get out now, Bob?" 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I'll follow your advice, sir, of course. If it was 
 only myself, I'd take the money, but I'm thinking 
 of Goring, when my father and grandfather and 
 uncle die. What I want is fifty thousand, at least. 
 Grandfather often says that is the least that can 
 put the house on its legs again. Let me see, £2,240 
 
LADY PENELOPE 219 
 
 is eight times four times £90. That's thirty-two 
 times £90. What's thirty-two times £2,240?" 
 
 " Seventy-one thousand six hundred and eighty," 
 replied Gordon, promptly. 
 
 " That would do very well indeed," said Bob. 
 " Please go on, sir, till it's that. Or shall I take 
 half and ask Mr. Plant to do something with it? 
 He offered to help me." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Gordon, angrily. 
 " Plant's a reckless speculator and a liar, and he'll 
 wake up some day worth half a million less than 
 nothing. I'll do my best for you and Goring, Bob." 
 
 " I'm sure you will, sir," said Bob. " Good 
 night, Mr. Gordon. I'm sorry if I've worried you." 
 
 And he went off to worry Goby. Gordon walked 
 up and down the room weeping. 
 
 " If I only had a boy like that! " he cried. " By 
 Moses and all the prophets, I'll put Amalekites up 
 sky-high, and squeeze the bears till they howl. Oh, 
 Pen, Pen!" 
 
CHAPTEH XVIII. 
 
 By breakfast-time or a little later, Goby and 
 Gordon and De Vere and Rivaulx knew not only 
 what was said about Timothy Bunting, but also 
 that every one of them had told the Duchess of 
 Goring that he was married to Penelope. When 
 the bishop looked in to see the marquis, he found 
 him exceedingly difficult to manage. He wanted 
 the duelling-swords back in order to fight every 
 one. His especial desire now was to put cold steel 
 through Gordon, and this led to a general evacua- 
 tion of Spilsborough. 
 
 " I say, Mr Gordon," said Bob, rushing in upon 
 the financier while he was shaving, " I've just met 
 the bishop, and he wanted to know if I knew you, 
 and I said ' rather,' and he said would I ask you, 
 in the interests of peace, to go back to London, 
 because the marquis wanted to cut your throat with 
 swords hanging in the bishop's dining-room. I 
 say, will you go, or stay and fight? " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 221 
 
 Gordon cut himself, and then, as Bob said, " cut 
 his stick" and went back to town shaved on one 
 side and not on the other. As a result of this, 
 several men in the city sold bears of everything 
 that Gordon was interested in, and they got left 
 most horribly, especially on Amalekites. Never, 
 afterward did they venture to think that any finan- 
 cier was on the borders of ruin if he came into 
 the city partially shaved. In fact, three very shady 
 Jews, with some wildcat stock to boom, played the 
 trick successfully, and, through not being shaved 
 themselves, they shaved others. 
 
 But this is all by the way, and it only shows 
 that a real financier in love or in despair is just 
 as dangerous as at other times. Bob and the bishop 
 talked the situation over in Spilsborough while 
 Gordon was going to town, and the result was what 
 might have been expected. 
 
 " All we know is that Penelope, poor dear Penel- 
 ope is near Spilsborough," said the bishop. 
 
 "And that she's married," said Bob. 
 
 " We infer that from general grounds, our knowl- 
 edge of her character," said the logical bishop. 
 " Strictly we cannot be said to know it. It is not 
 a primary datum of consciousness, nor is it a judg- 
 ment or a purely rational conclusion. Bob." 
 
 "Oh," said Bob, "well, perhaps not." 
 
222 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I think," said the bishop, " that I shall write 
 to her — " 
 
 "Where to?" 
 
 " To everywhere," said the bishop, " and ask her 
 to come and confide in me. And in the meantime, 
 as the others have gone, and your presence here is 
 no longer necessary, I think you should go home 
 and console your grandrhother, and apply yourself 
 to work." 
 
 " All right," said Bob; " I don't think it's inter- 
 esting here any more. But are you glad I came in 
 time to stop the duel ? " 
 
 " I am glad," said the bishop. " But, to tell the 
 truth, Robert, I should not have allowed a duel on 
 Mr. Dean's ancient grass and under his immemorial 
 elms without a remonstrance, even a physical re- 
 monstrance." 
 
 Within the memory of this portly and admirable 
 pillar of the Church to which the British Empire 
 owes all its greatness, and to which it pays a great 
 deal of its money, were many fierce encounters at 
 Oxford, that haunt of ancient peace and modern 
 progress. 
 
 "Would you have knocked 'em down?" asked 
 Bob, eagerly. 
 
 "Certainly," said the bishop. "I would have 
 knocked them as flat as a flounder." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 223 
 
 And Bob bade him good-bye. 
 
 " I think he's a ripping good bishop," said Bob. 
 " I'll ask Mr. Gordon to help restore the cathe- 
 dral." 
 
 He got back to Goring to find Titania no longer 
 suffering from fits. Fits were not equal to the 
 situation. All her friends were writing to her to 
 condole with her on the marriage of Penelope to 
 Timothy Bunting. They came down in droves to 
 condole and to get the latest intelligence, while 
 gamekeepers and grooms were keeping journalists 
 out of the grounds with guns and pitchforks. 
 
 For the world was absolutely certain that Miss 
 Weekes was right, and Pen's ci-devant maid was 
 making the salary of a star at the Empire by ac- 
 cording interviews to those halfpenny papers which 
 are England's glory and her hope. The editors 
 endeavoured to interview the lovers, but they were 
 stern and savage. They would not speak to each 
 other and avoided strangers. But it was no secret 
 now that they each claimed to be Lady Penelope's 
 husband. As the acutest journalist of them all re- 
 marked, this was hardly possible. The only theory 
 that held water (or, at least, "good" water, as the 
 Baboo pleader remarked) was the Bunting theory. 
 But if Bunting was the man, where was he? and 
 why this mystery? A journalist solved it, or said 
 
224 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 he did. Bunting was a very handsome man. There 
 was no doubt of that. But he was an uneducated 
 man. That was quite certain. If a lady of Penel- 
 ope's standing married a man of Buntingf's, what 
 would she do ? The answer was easy. She would 
 send him to Oxford to acquire the accent and the 
 aplomb and the insolence which have rendered Ox- 
 ford men the idols of the mob, and have put them 
 into every position where tact with inferior races 
 is a sine qua non. This is what the journalist said. 
 He ought to have known, as he had been brought 
 up in the Yorkshire Dissenting College, and dis- 
 sented from all other codes of manners, except those 
 popular with the non-conformist conscience, which, 
 equally with the Church of England, has made the 
 empire what it is and what it should be. 
 
 But this journalist knew his market. The eyes 
 of the civilized world once more turned to Oxford. 
 
 " If it's Bunting, I'll kill him," said all the lovers 
 who were not married to Penelope. " She has 
 made a mistake, if it's true, and he must be got 
 rid of." 
 
 Now was the time of the Marchioness of Rigs- 
 by's glory. 
 
 " Did I not tell you she had married her 
 groom? " she demanded of Titania. " Penelope 
 was extremely rude to me. I am almost glad she 
 
LADY PENELOPE 225 
 
 has married a groom. If he is a nice groom, he 
 may improve her manners." 
 
 " She hasn't married any groom," cried Titania, 
 furiously. " I am perfectly certain it is the Mar- 
 quis of Rivaulx." 
 
 She was certain of nothing. Bradstock was cer- 
 tain of nothing. They both asked Bob what he 
 was certain of, and Bob replied all the lovers were 
 in such a state of mind that it couldn't be any of 
 them. And then at last Titania hit upon a certain 
 truth. 
 
 " Whoever it is would be just as miserable as 
 all the others," she said. " He'll be sorry now that 
 he agreed to it, and he'll be asking her to give in, 
 and she won't. And they'll quarrel." 
 
 " You're right, Titania," cried Bradstock, slap- 
 ping his thigh. " Bob, I believe the most miserable 
 of them all is the man. Which is the most miser- 
 able?" 
 
 Bob thought. 
 
 " Gordon cried a little." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the duchess. 
 
 "But Rivaulx cried a good deal," said Bob. 
 
 " Oh," said the duchess. " But which do you 
 think it is, Robert?" 
 
 "I think it's Timothy Bunting," said Bob. 
 
226 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " And I want to go to Oxford to find out if he's 
 there. Baker says — " 
 
 "Do you discuss these matters with Baker?" 
 demanded his grandmother, haughtily. 
 
 " He knows a great deal about the world," said 
 Bob, " and about Bunting, you know. Baker 
 says — " 
 
 " You may go to Oxford," cried Titania, " and 
 I will go to bed and stay there. I am a most un- 
 happy woman, and Goring does not care ! " 
 
 So Bob went to Oxford all by himself, and called 
 upon an undergraduate who had just come up from 
 Harrow, one of the schools which Bob had been 
 requested to leave on account of pugilism. Jack 
 Harcourt was four years Bob's senior, but could 
 not fight so well in spite of that, and there was 
 much more equality between them than would seem 
 possible at first sight. But then it is almost impos- 
 sible to feel very much superior to a boy who has 
 knocked you absolutely senseless, as Bob did Har- 
 court. Arid Bob was one of those boys who make 
 all the world equal. He was familiar with princes, 
 and said " Baker says " to cabinet ministers. And 
 if his uncle didn't marry, he was bound to be a 
 duke. Dukes are very important people, somehow, 
 and the fact that Bob never showed any side was 
 
LADY PENELOPE 227 
 
 much in his favour over and above that important 
 fact. 
 
 " I say, is there a man up here called Bunting? " 
 asked Bob. 
 
 And Harcourt, after consulting a calendar, said 
 there was. 
 
 "Timothy Bunting?" asked Bob, jumping as if 
 he were shot. 
 
 "Thomas," said Harcourt. 
 
 " Oh, he'd say Thomas, I dare say," said Bob. 
 And he told Harcourt all about it. 
 
 " Do you think she's married him ? " asked the 
 undergraduate. 
 
 "Who knows what girls will do?" said Bob. 
 " Don't you remember the black-eyed one in the 
 pastry-cook's at Harrow who wouldn't look at you 
 and was in love with that beast Black ? " 
 
 Harcourt did remember, but changed the con- 
 versation as quickly as possible. 
 
 " This fellow is at All Saints," he said. " I dare 
 say, they'd let a groom in there." 
 
 " Let's go and find him," said Bob. " Poor old 
 Bunting will be sick to see me. I'm very sorry for 
 him if he is a presumptuous beast. It will be very 
 awkward for the family. But we must know. The 
 uncertainty is killing itiy grandmother, and Baker 
 says it's always best to know the worst at once. 
 
228 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Baker's the best judge of dogs and horses I know. 
 He was a sergeant in the Dubhn FusiHers. Oh, 
 I told you that ! " 
 
 And when they got into the High Street, they 
 ran right into Plant, who smiled a sickly smile and 
 said he had come up to have a look at Oxford. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Plant, what's the matter with your 
 clothes ? " asked Bob. " Have you fallen down- 
 stairs ? " 
 
 Plant murmured something unintelligible and 
 hurried away, leaving Bob staring. 
 
 " That's one of 'em, Harcourt," he said to his 
 friend. " He's a millionaire." 
 
 " Then I think he might afiford a hat without a 
 dint in it," replied Harcourt. 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I can't make it out. He's very particular," he 
 said. " But let's get on." 
 
 Around the next corner they bumped into Gor- 
 don, who also announced that he had been struck 
 with a wild desire to have a look at the ancient 
 university city. Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Gordon, you want brushing badly. 
 Do you know you look as if you had fallen down- 
 stairs? " he asked. 
 
 Gordon said, "Do I ? " and bolted. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 229 
 
 " I can't make this out," said Bob. " This has 
 all the appearance of a mystery, Harcourt." 
 
 " It has," said Harcourt. As they entered All 
 Saints, they saw a man run across the grass and 
 disappear under the far archway which led out into 
 the Turl. 
 
 " That looked very much like De Vere," said 
 Bob, " very much. Only I never saw him run ex- 
 cept that time when the bulldog chased him. And 
 then he ran differently. But of course it can't be 
 De Vere." 
 
 After asking two reverend-looking members of 
 the university, who looked as if they knew all about 
 the subjective world, and a scout with every appear- 
 ance of a deep acquaintance with the objective one, 
 they discovered Mr. Bunting^s rooms. 
 
 " I think he's havin' some gents to lunch, though 
 I'm not his scout, sir, and they seems to be enjoy- 
 ing themselves now very much," said the scout. 
 " Mr. Bunting is readin' 'ard, so I 'ear, but he's 
 relaxin' a little to-day. Just now I see a gentleman 
 drop hout of 'is window, sir. And you're the third 
 lot I've directed there. This is 'is staircase, gents, 
 first floor. Thank you, sir, I'm sure. I'll drink 
 your 'ealth." 
 
 And here Harcourt said he thought he'd leave 
 
230 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Bob. So Bob went up about six dark steps by him- 
 self, and then he stopped. 
 
 " Whoever he is, he's making a devil of a row," 
 said Bob, pausing, " a devil of a row. I wonder 
 if it is Bunting. I think Harcourt might have 
 stayed. But he never did like fighting or rows." 
 
 He climbed up another step or two, and heard 
 a mighty uproar. 
 
 " I think they must be having a boxing party," 
 said Bob. And then he heard a door open on the 
 landing above him. 
 
 " Confound you, sir ! to the devil with you, 
 sir ! " said a voice that he certainly did not recog- 
 nize. Then he heard a noise which was presently 
 explained by the fact that Carteret Williams fell 
 down the stairs, turning a crooked corner most 
 wonderfully in company with a very large Liddell 
 and Scott's Dictionary of that beautiful language, 
 Greek. 
 
 "Oh, is that you, Mr. Williams?" asked Bob. 
 
 Williams appeared rather confused. 
 
 " Yes, Bob," he said, as he hugged the dictionary. 
 " I — I think so." 
 
 " Why have you fallen down-stairs ? " asked Bob. 
 
 " That damn groom threw me down," said Will- 
 iams. " At least, he threw this book at me, and 
 I came down." 
 
■ AR:r>iuri..wii.Lip.ivi. beowm- 
 
 CARTERET WILLIAMS, WAR CORRESPONDENT 
 He wrote with a red picturesqueness which was horribly attractive 
 
LADY PENELOPE 231 
 
 "What, is it really Bunting?" roared Bob, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " He says his name's Bunting," replied Williams. 
 " But he's very difficult to handle." 
 
 " Oh, Tim can box," said Bob. " But is he our 
 Bunting? " 
 
 " Whichever Bunting he is, you are welcome to 
 him," said the enraged war correspondent. 
 
 " I must go up and see," said Bob. " Do you 
 think he threw Mr. Plant and Mr. Gordon down, 
 too? I met 'em just now, and they looked as if he 
 had." 
 
 " I'm sure he's capable of it," said Williams, bit- 
 terly. " Here, take this book with you. I don't 
 want it." 
 
 And Bob climbed up, hugging several pounds' 
 weight of Greek with him. He stood at the door 
 and listened, and heard a man inside snorting vio^ 
 lently and slamming things about as if he was very 
 much disturbed in his mind. Bob knocked at the 
 door, and it was opened suddenly. The man who 
 opened it was in deep shadow. 
 
 " It is — it is. No, it isn't," said Bob, quite 
 aloud. 
 
 "Are you another of 'em?" asked the occupier 
 of the rooms. 
 
232 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Oh, it isn't," said Bob. And, choking down his 
 disappointment, his politeness returned. 
 
 " Is this your Greek dictionary ? " he asked, 
 courteously. " I found it lying on Mr. Carteret 
 Williams on the next landing, and he said he didn't 
 want it." 
 
 The man named Bunting seized the dictionary, 
 and then took Bob by the shoulder and led him in. 
 Bob went like a Iamb, for this Mr. Bunting was 
 six feet high, about three feet across the chest, more 
 or less, and had a grip like clip-hooks on a bale. 
 
 " Was that man named Williams ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Bob. 
 
 "You know him?" 
 
 " Why, of course," said Bob. " I know 'em all." 
 
 "All I've thrown down-stairs this afternoon?" 
 
 " I think so," said Bob, modestly. " At least, I 
 met Mr. Plant and Mr. Gordon, who looked very 
 much as if they had fallen down-stairs. And I 
 think the little gentlenmn you dropped out of the 
 window on the grass must have been Mr. Austin 
 de Vere." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Bunting, " sit down, boy, and 
 look at me. Do I look mad?" 
 
 Bob looked at him and then at the room. 
 
 " The room looks mad," he replied. And it cer- 
 tainly did. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 233 
 
 "That was the last one," said Mr. Bunting. 
 " He was very troublesome." 
 
 " He's a war correspondent," said Bob. " But 
 why is your name Bunting-? " 
 
 " How the devil do I know ? " asked the other, 
 in reply. " Perhaps, as you seem to know them, 
 you can explain what it all means ? " 
 
 " I will try, sir, if you will tell me what oc- 
 curred," said Bob. 
 
 " First of all," said the outraged member of All 
 Saints, " the American person knocked and came 
 in, and he said: 'Is your name Bunting?' And 
 I said, ' Yes, confound you, for your infernal impu- 
 dence, and what is yours ? ' And he said, ' What 
 the devil do you mean by saying you have married 
 her?' And I said I'd said nothing of the kind, 
 and I said if he didn't get out in two shakes of a 
 lamb's tail, I'd throw him out. And he was furious, 
 and couldn't and wouldn't explain, so I did throw 
 him out. And, as he tumbled down-stairs, he said 
 he'd married her himself. And he went away, and 
 I sat down to read Thucydides. He's under the 
 sofa now somewhere. And then the Jew came, and 
 he said : ' You mutht contradict the report of your 
 being married to her at onth,' and that made me 
 very cross, and I said I wouldn't, and that made 
 
234 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 him very wild, so I said I was married to her just 
 as he said he was — " 
 
 " Oh," said Bob, " and are you ? Oh, dear, I 
 am so confused! Are you really, really married 
 to Pen?" 
 
 " I shall drop you out of the window in a min- 
 ute," said Mr. Bunting-. " I said it to annoy him, 
 and it did, and he said I was a liar. So I opened 
 the door and took him by the neck and dropped him 
 down-stairs, and he howled awfully. And I said 
 to him over the bannisters, ' I am married to her, 
 and have been married for years to her, and she 
 loves me very much, and we are going to acknowl- 
 edge it as soon as I've taken my B. A.' And he 
 went away holding his neck, and then the little 
 man came in. Did you say he was a poet ? " 
 
 " A very good poet, too," said Bob. " And I 
 sell him bulldogs." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Bunting, blankly, " you do, do 
 you? Why?" 
 
 " Because Pen thought they would do him good." 
 
 Mr. Bunting shook his head. 
 
 " Thicksides is lucid compared with this ! " he 
 murmured. " But patience, patience, and I shall 
 construe it yet." 
 
 "And what did Mr. de Vere say?" asked Bob. 
 
 " The same thing. He stood there and said I 
 
LADY PENELOPE 235 
 
 mtist contradict it. And he said of course it was 
 very kind of her to have me educated, but that, 
 if I had a spark of decency, I should know that 
 a man who had once occupied the position I had 
 couldn't possibly marry her. And, by the way, what 
 position had I occupied in regard to her ? " 
 
 " A groom," said Bob. " You were supposed to 
 have been a groom." 
 
 " Dear me," said Mr. Bunting, " how interesting 
 and remarkable. Still no light, no real light ! And 
 of course I said I had married her, and I asked him 
 did he think I would desert the lady now? And 
 he went scarlet. Why did he go scarlet do you 
 think?" 
 
 " I know," said Bob, " it must have been on 
 account of the baby ! " 
 
 Mr. Bunting smote his forehead. 
 
 " So it must," he said. " I never thought of that. 
 What a fearful complication! And then he, too, 
 said I was a liar. So I took him by the collar and 
 led him to the window, and I opened it and dropped 
 him out. And then the one you call Williams came, 
 and he also was indignant, and said I was to deny 
 it, and I wouldn't of course. And then we fought, 
 and the furniture was much disarranged and Thick- 
 sides went under the sofa, and at last I got him 
 outside, and finished him with Liddell and Scott. 
 
236 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 And now you know all! In your turn you can 
 explain what it means. I beg you to do it, and then 
 we will have some tea." 
 
 And Bob explained the whole story. 
 
 " You might have seen it in the papers," said 
 Bob. 
 
 " I don't read 'em," said Bunting, " except to 
 turn a Times leader into Greek. But it seems a 
 complicated situation, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " It is very complicated," sighed Bob, " and my 
 grandmother is very ill about it. And now she 
 will wonder if it's you, after all ! " 
 
 " Dear me, so she will," said Bunting. " Have 
 some tea." 
 
 They had tea, and Bob rose to go. 
 
 " Will you write to the Times, and say you 
 haven't married her ? " he asked. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Mr. Bunting. " Didn't I 
 say to the others that I threw down-stairs that I 
 had married her?" 
 
 " So you did," said Bob. " But of course you 
 haven't?" 
 
 Bunting smiled. 
 
 " Good-bye. When you come to Oxford again, 
 come and see me. I must crawl under the sofa 
 now." 
 
 "What for? "asked Bob. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 237 
 
 " For Thucydides, of course," replied Mr. Bunt- 
 ing. 
 
 And when Bob was in the train for London, he 
 turned very pale. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " he said, " how do I know it 
 isn't this Bunting, after all ? " 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 After this, things by no means cleared up, as they 
 should have done considering the amount of trouble 
 that all the world took to find out the truth. Every 
 one said something different from some one else. 
 Bob gave horribly imaginative accounts of his ad- 
 ventures at Oxford, and threw out suggestions that 
 Pen was really married to a Bunting, if not to Tim- 
 othy Bunting. But when he appealed for corrob- 
 oration to Gordon, that gentleman shuffled and pre- 
 varicated dreadfully, as he did not like to acknowl- 
 edge he had been thrown down-stairs. There was 
 a very curious scene, in which Gordon and Bob 
 had the best part of a row before Titania, who came 
 up to town to be near Dr. Lumsden Griff, who 
 knew all about the left or right ventricle of her 
 heart. As his jealous confreres said he knew noth- 
 ing else, perhaps he did. However, that is by the 
 way. 
 
 " Tell it me again, Robert," said Titania. 
 
 Bob told her again. 
 
 238 
 
LADY PENELOPE 239 
 
 " He said he was married to her ? " 
 
 " He said he said so to Mr. Plant and Mr. Gor- 
 don, and Williams and De Vere," said Bob, gloat- 
 ing over the details of the row. " And he slung 
 'em all down-stairs. He's about six feet six high, 
 and as broad as a billiard-table, and as strong as 
 three Sandows, I should say." 
 
 " I am much confused again," said Titania, plain- 
 tively. " I had come to the point where certain 
 news of her marriage to a groom would have been 
 a relief to me. Where are we now ? " 
 
 As she asked, Gordon was announced. Bob 
 rushed at him. 
 
 " I say, Mr. Gordon, tell us how he threw you 
 down-stairs, and what he said ? " 
 
 " He didn't throw me down-stairs," said Gordon, 
 quite crossly. " I threw myself down — I mean I 
 slipped." 
 
 " Tell us how you slipped, then, and why," said 
 Bob. 
 
 But Gordon wouldn't. 
 
 "Oh, I say!" said Bob. 
 
 Titania begged Gordon to tell her. 
 
 " But then he told me he had married Pen," she 
 said to herself. " What is the use of asking any 
 one anything?" 
 
 " How did you find him ? " asked Bob. 
 
240 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I looked him up," said Gordon. 
 
 " Why did you look him up? " 
 
 " Because I wanted to find him out," returned 
 Gordon, sulkily. " But I didn't come to be cross- 
 examined by you, Bob." 
 
 In spite of the large sums of money which Gor- 
 don owed Bob, Bob was on the point of an explo^ 
 sion. But trouble was averted by Plant's entrance. 
 Before he could say a word, a telegram was brought 
 to Titania, and she read it at once and uttered dis- 
 mal groans. 
 
 " What is it ? " chorused the two men and Bob. 
 
 " It's from Penelope." 
 
 " Please read it out." 
 
 Bob read it for his grandmother. 
 
 " Am exceedingly displeased with latest reports 
 and news. Contradict at once. Am not married 
 to Bunting, who is much upset by report, and can 
 hardly look me in the face. Penelope." 
 
 " Bunting is with her ! " said Titania. 
 
 " Which Bunting ? " asked Bob. " He — I mean 
 the one at Oxford — told Mr. Gordon and Mr. 
 de Vere that he was married to her." 
 
 Gordon groaned, and, seizing his hat, fled from 
 the room. He came back again. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 241 
 
 "Where does the wire come from?" 
 
 "From Spilsborough," said Bob. "Granny, I 
 wonder if the bishop is in it." 
 
 Gordon groaned and went. And went a little 
 too early, for another wire came. It was a very 
 long one. 
 
 Titania looked at the signature first, and she sat 
 up. 
 
 " It's from Penelope's husband," she cried. 
 
 " Who is he really ? " shrieked Bob. 
 
 " It's signed Penelope's husband, I mean," said 
 Titania, "and he seems very unhappy." 
 
 The telegram read: 
 
 " Am in great distress. Penelope is furious be- 
 cause told you confidence that was married to her. 
 She has heard this, and has learnt that others, lying 
 scoundrels, said they were, too. She says their 
 noble conduct saved her, and will not speak at pres- 
 ent, though holding out hopes of reconciliation 
 later to her and infant, which is doing well, if I 
 say nothing and do not fight with others, but do 
 my duty, which I find hard under peculiar circum- 
 stances. Hence am precluded from confirming what 
 I told you, and can only communicate anonymously, 
 as Penelope threatens to have divorce or equivalent, 
 
242 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 being headstrong, as you are aware, and I am in dis- 
 tress about it. Wire reply. 
 
 " Penelope's Husband." 
 
 " He's mad," said Titania. " How can I wire 
 reply to a man I know nothing of ? " 
 
 She turned to Plant. 
 
 " You told me in confidence, Mr. Plant. Did you 
 send this ? " 
 
 Plant turned all the colours of the rainbow. 
 
 " Yes," he said, desperately, and he bolted from 
 the room and the house and disappeared, while Bob 
 gasped, and Titania nodded her head in a most 
 awe-inspiring manner. 
 
 " Get some telegraph forms," she said. And 
 when Bob brought them, she dictated telegrams 
 to all the horde in the diplomatic form of identic 
 notes. 
 
 " Have received sad telegram signed Penelope's 
 husband. Recognize under painful circumstances 
 he cannot reveal himself. Am much composed and 
 have given up hope. It appears it cannot be Bunt- 
 ing, though Bunting is with her. Contradict this; 
 also the rumour that it is the Rajah of Jugpore. 
 
 " Titania Goring." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 243 
 
 " Send them," she said, " and let me rest. I 
 presume that the right one will get it. The only 
 trouble is that six of the wrong ones will, too." 
 
 " Goby will go insane," said Bob. " I know he 
 will. I can't see how this will end without murder." 
 
 And Titania laughed dreadfully. She laughed 
 so queerly that Doctor Griff was sent for, and re- 
 fused to allow her to see De Vere and Goby and 
 Bramber and Gordon and Plant and Williams and 
 Carew. The last turned up first in a hansom cab, 
 with a large palette knife in his hand. He had 
 forgotten to put it down. As hansom after hansom 
 came up and discharged one furious lover after 
 another at the steps of Titania's town house, it 
 looked as if Bob's foreseen murder would occur 
 there and then. It is possible that nothing but the 
 timely arrival of Bradstock saved London from the 
 desirable news of a murder in high life and Bel- 
 grave Square. He got hold of the men one by one, 
 and sent them away. As they went, a telegraph 
 boy came to the house with another telegram ad- 
 dressed to Titania. 
 
 " I shall open this. Bob," said Bradstock. It was 
 another from Pen. 
 
 " Have just learnt that you and others have 
 been trying to discover my whereabouts. If I am 
 
244 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 pursued, I shall leave and go elsewhere. This is 
 final. Penelope." 
 
 " From Spilsborough, Bob," said Bradstock. 
 
 " She's heard that I and Goby and Rivaulx and 
 the others were there," said Bob. " Do you think 
 the bishop knows where she is ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't trust a bishop," said Bradstock. 
 " I daresay he does. It is said that bishops steal 
 Elzevirs and umbrellas, Bob. I think I shall go 
 to Spilsborough myself. Have you seen the evening 
 papers, Bob? " 
 
 Bob had seen none of them. 
 
 " Some say now that she is married to Jugpore, 
 and others say it is a morganatic marriage to the 
 mediatized Prince of Bodenstrau." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Pen will be mad," cried Bob. " Isn't 
 he a real bad un ? " 
 
 " The very worst," said Bradstock. 
 
 " And are you really going to Spilsborough, Lord 
 Bradstock?" 
 
 " I really think so," said Bradstock. " I begin 
 to think I must do something." 
 
 He stood pondering. 
 
 " May I come with you ? " 
 
 Bradstock declined the honour. 
 
 " If I don't succeed, you may go again if you 
 
LADY PENELOPE 245 
 
 like," he said. And that very afternoon he went 
 to Liverpool Street and took the train for Spils- 
 borough to call on the bishop. 
 
 " My dear Bradstock, I am delighted to see you," 
 said his lordship. " I presume you, too, have come 
 here about Penelope?" 
 
 " I have," said Bradstock, " every one does." 
 
 " Did young Bob tell you all about the peculiar 
 occurrences which took place here only lately? 
 They were quite remarkable." 
 
 Bradstock agreed that they were remarkable. 
 
 " A duel on the dean's grass, now ! Who would 
 have thought of that but a Frenchman ? Have you 
 seen the marquis lately, and that very agreeable 
 financier, the American? I was much grieved not 
 to be able to ask him to dinner, owing to his sud- 
 den departure. He showed considerable skill in 
 grasping the essentials of the situation, for, when 
 the marquis, who was literally foaming at the 
 mouth, ofifered him the choice of swords in a vio- 
 lent but perfectly gentlemanly way, he chose both 
 of them, and put them under his arm. It is not 
 every one who could have displayed such readiness 
 in preventing violence. One would not have ex- 
 pected it in an American, for I understand disorder 
 and disturbances leading to bloodshed are quite 
 common even in Washington." 
 
246 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I have frequently seen most bloodthirsty duels 
 behind the Capitol during the sessions of Congress," 
 said Bradstock, gravely. 
 
 " Ah, so I understand," replied the bishop. " But 
 is there no news of dear Penelope ? " 
 
 " Come, bishop, let us be frank," said Bradstock. 
 " Have you no idea whom she has married ? " 
 
 The gentle bishop looked much surprised. 
 
 " I ? My dear Bradstock, I haven't the least idea. 
 But I gather that both the gentlemen I interrupted 
 the other day claim to be her husband, to say noth- 
 ing of many others whom I have not yet set eyes 
 on." 
 
 " And you have no notion where she is ? " 
 
 The bishop lifted his hands. 
 
 " I think she must be near this place," he said. 
 " I consider there can be no doubt of that, owing 
 to matters with which Bob made me acquainted. 
 By the way, I think this young Bob a very remark- 
 able boy, Bradstock." 
 
 " So do I, bishop," said Bradstock. 
 
 " A very remarkable boy. The dean, who saw 
 very little of him, came to that conclusion. He said 
 he would be an ornament to the House of Lords, 
 or the biggest young rip that ever disgraced it." 
 
 " Your dean must be a clever man," said Brad- 
 stock. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 247 
 
 " Do not call him my dean," replied the bishop. 
 " He is the cathedral's dean, and very difficult to 
 handle. However, he is said to be clever, and I 
 dare say is clever, especially about grass and a choir 
 and things material. But, as I was going on to 
 say, I consider it quite easy to find out where Pe- 
 nelope is, provided we go about it skilfully. I can- 
 not but remember that I christened her, and I still 
 take an interest in her." 
 
 " How do you propose to discover her where- 
 abouts ? " asked Bradstock. 
 
 " She sends telegrams from our Spilsborough 
 post-office, does she not ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Then some one should watch the post-office for 
 her messenger. It seems probable that you would 
 know him, as she is not likely to confide in strangers. 
 Who can say that the very man she has married 
 does not send them ? " 
 
 That was easily disposed of, for, to Bra'dstock's 
 certain knowledge, all the lovers were in town when 
 the last wires came. 
 
 " Well, I suggest you watch the post-office," said 
 the bishop. " It is, I opine, a perfectly legitimate 
 thing to do." 
 
 Bradstock objected that she mightn't send any 
 more for weeks. 
 
248 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 A brilliant idea struck the bishop. 
 
 " Send her one which requires an answer. Brad- 
 stock." 
 
 "Where to?" asked Bradstock. 
 
 "Tut, tut!" said the bishop, "how foolish of 
 me. Stay, I have it. Put something in the Times 
 which requires an answer." 
 
 " I will," said Bradstock. 
 
 " And send for young Bob to watch," said the 
 bishop. " It is time that this scandal was stopped. 
 I am exceedingly grieved with Penelope for getting 
 married in a registrar's office. I will offer to marry 
 her all over again in this very cathedral. And now 
 you shall come and have lunch, and I will show you 
 the swords given me by the marquis." 
 
 After lunch and an inspection of the trophies in 
 the dining-room, Bradstock and the bishop drafted 
 an advertisement for the Times, imploring Pen to 
 telegraph to Bradstock, saying how she was, as 
 there was a rumour afloat that she didn't feel well. 
 This was sent by wire to town, and was accom- 
 panied in its flight by one to Bob, asking him to 
 come up in a motor-car at once. 
 
 " I think," said the bishop, " that I should like 
 to go in a motor-car. There must be something 
 delightful in speeding through the country feeling 
 that steel and petrol do not suffer any of the strain 
 
LADY PENELOPE 249 
 
 that comes on horses. I shall ask young Bob to 
 take me out." 
 
 " He will be delighted," said Bradstock. " I'm 
 sure he will be delighted. They say he is an enter- 
 prising driver for his youth." 
 
 " I love enterprise," murmured the bishop. " I 
 am surprised now to think of my own. I entered 
 the Church meaning to be a bishop, and I am a 
 bishop. I love enterprise. All curates seem full 
 of it. Deans, I regret to say, are seldom vigorously 
 enterprising. Archdeacons, too, have a tendency to 
 take things easily, too easily." 
 
 " What do you think ©f the Higher Criticism? " 
 asked Bradstock. 
 
 "Ha!" said the bishop, "ha! I think — oh, I 
 think a great deal of it. That is, I think of it a 
 great deal. I do not think all enterprise is praise- 
 worthy. Would you like to know the dean ? " 
 
 They spent the afternoon in the dean's cathedral, 
 arid walked on the dean's grass, and about six 
 o'clock Bob rolled into the cathedral close in a fif- 
 teen-horse-power Daimler, and drew up in front 
 of the bishop's palace. 
 
 " Have you found her out ? " he demanded, 
 eagerly, of Bradstock. 
 
 " No, but you shall," said Bradstock. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The bishop was very kind and amiable to Bob. 
 Some people say that bishops are always kind and 
 good to people who will be dukes by and by. One 
 never knows what a duke can do for one later, and, 
 of course, a bishop wants to be an archbishop. That 
 is only natural: even a cardinal wants to be Pope, 
 although he almost always says he is sorry he be- 
 came one when he finds himself at the end of his 
 tether. The bishop was a human being, but a nice 
 one, and he really liked Bob, who suggested youth 
 and strength and the future, all of them agreeable 
 things to those who are not young and see their 
 future behind them. So he talked to Bob almost 
 as if he was one of the Bench of Bishops. He was 
 familiar and jovial, and told some good stories of 
 other bishops and even one of an archbishop. And 
 he suggested to Bob that he rather wanted to see 
 what a motor-car was like. 
 
 " There is a prejudice against them here," said 
 the bishop. " Perhaps a natural prejudice among 
 
 250 
 
LADY PENELOPE 251 
 
 those who own chickens and dogs and children. 
 But Providence works in a mysterious way, and 
 I should be the last to hasten to blame even the 
 gentleman known as a road hog. I begin to per- 
 ceive an unwonted sprightliness in the villagers as 
 the elimination of the unfit, the rheumatic, the un- 
 decided, and the foolish proceeds apace. A young 
 man, who told me that he had in the course of his 
 career as an owner of cars killed nearly a thousand 
 dogs, two thousand five hundred fowls, several aged 
 persons, some idiots, and a policeman, said that he 
 noticed nowadays an air of bright alertness in his 
 immediate neighbourhood which was at once a 
 pleasure and an encouragement. He asserted that 
 the dogs who remained were of a higher type of 
 intellect than the others ; and he said that even the 
 fowls now stood sideways in the road and used 
 their natural advantage of looking both ways at 
 once. There was, too, a great improvement in vil- 
 lage children and even in policemen. Oh, yes, I 
 think much may be said for the motor-car." 
 
 " I should very much like to take you out in one, 
 my lord," said Bob. 
 
 The bishop smiled graciously. 
 
 " You shall, my boy, as soon as this matter of 
 Penelope is settled. I shall greatly enjoy passing 
 rapidly through the country. I think of buying one 
 
252 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 for purposes of my pastoral visitations. Perhaps 
 I may wake up some of my more somnolent clergy. 
 I may even raise their general intellectual average, 
 which is low, really low." 
 
 Bob's chauffeur put up at the Angel, but Bob 
 himself had a bed in the palace, and dined in state 
 with the bishop and Bradstock. They discussed 
 Penelope all dinner-time, even before Ridley, for, 
 as the bishop explained, Ridley took no interest in 
 anything whatever but wine. 
 
 " I believe," said the bishop, with a chuckle, " that 
 I might venture in his presence to advocate the dis- 
 establishment of the Church, or to give vent to 
 heretical or even atheistical sentiments without his 
 being aware that I was doing anything surprising, 
 improper, or unusual. By all means, let us talk 
 before Ridley. How do you think Bob should pro- 
 ceed, Bradstock ? " 
 
 " He must stay in his car near, but not too near, 
 the post-ofifice," said Bradstock. " If Bob is prop- 
 erly goggled, this George Smith, whom we suppose 
 to bring Pen's letters and telegrams, will not notice 
 him. Shall you know him, Bob? " 
 
 " Rather," said Bob. " He walks very queerly. 
 I could tell him: a mile off." 
 
 " Very well, then," Bradstock continued, " when 
 
LADY PENELOPE 253 
 
 he goes, you will follow him at a distance. He 
 must not be lost sight of." 
 
 " I much underrate our young friend's enterprise 
 if he loses him," said the bishop. " There are occa- 
 sions when exceeding the legal limit becomes a 
 duty, Bob." 
 
 " Rather," said Bob. " Oh, I'll do it." 
 
 They calculated that the Times would reach Pen 
 about noon, as they believed she must be within 
 twenty miles of Spilsborough. Bob accordingly ar- 
 ranged to take up his watch at the post-ofBce before 
 one o'clock. 
 
 " And perhaps to-morrow night the mystery will 
 be solved," said the bishop. "It is really remark- 
 able. I am' not at all able to follow Penelope's 
 mind." 
 
 Bob explained it to him. 
 
 " They ragged her," he said, — by " they " mean- 
 ing Titania and others, — " and she loves peace 
 and hates showing off, and she's as obstinate as a 
 pig. And grandmother said she was to be mar- 
 ried in Westminster Abbey by a bishop, and that 
 put her back up. Oh, Pen's easy to understand, 
 I think." 
 
 " You have no idea whom she has really mar- 
 ried ? " asked the bishop. 
 
 "Not much," said Bob. "I give it up. I've 
 
2S4 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 thought it was all of 'em, and every one has done 
 or said something that could be taken both ways. 
 I was sure it was Goby, and then I was certain it 
 was Bramber, and then I fairly knew it was Ri- 
 vaulx, and I could have sworn it was Plant. And 
 I'm very much worried by what occurred at Oxford. 
 This new Bunting was very surprising." 
 
 The bishop had not heard of the new Bunting, 
 and listened to Bob's story with great interest. 
 
 " The world is a very surprising place," said the 
 bishop, with emphasis ; " a very surprising place 
 indeed. We do not need to go to Africa for new 
 things. We are surrounded by the unexpected, by 
 the marvellous. Bob's delightful story makes me 
 feel that no one can reckon with certainty upon 
 anything. I am half-inclined to think that this new 
 Bunting must be a relation of the other Bunting, 
 and that Penelope has met him, been struck with 
 him, and has married him and lives in temporary 
 retirement, while her husband struggles with Thu- 
 cydides under a sofa. But after to-morrow we shall 
 know more." 
 
 " I hope so," said Bradstock. 
 
 " I feel sure of it," said the bishop. 
 
 And Bob went to bed. 
 
 " Do you know, Bradstock," said the bishop, as 
 he stroked his leg, which was a very reasonable leg 
 
LADY PENELOPE 255 
 
 for a bishop, " I wonder you didn't think I had 
 married Penelope." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Bradstock, " have you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the bishop, " but it is 
 odd she should be near Spilsborough, isn't it?" 
 
 " She must be somewhere," said Bradstock, 
 rather irritably. " Hang it ! the girl must be some- 
 where." 
 
 " When you think of it, she must," said the 
 bishop. " Yes, yes, you are right. Still, Spilsbor- 
 ough — yes, it's odd, but not remarkable. As you 
 say, she must be somewhere. I hope it's not the 
 Jew, Bradstock." 
 
 So did Bradstock. 
 
 " It looks very much as if she was ashamed of 
 him. But Pm incapable of judging, not having 
 been married," said the bishop. 
 
 " Pve been married twice," said Bradstock, " and 
 Pen is a woman, which means she resembles no 
 other woman in any respect whatever as regards 
 her ways, manners, customs, and thoughts." 
 
 "You say that coolly?" asked the bishop. 
 
 " Icily," replied Bradstock. 
 
 The bishop shook his head. 
 
 " You surprise me," said the bishop, " and I 
 think I will go to bed." 
 
 Bradstock went to bed, too. 
 
256 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if she had married the 
 bishop and was under this roof now," said Brad- 
 stock. " Nothing would surprise me unless I dis- 
 cover she's married to Rivaulx or Bramber. I don't 
 think I should mind either of 'em." 
 
 And next day at half-past twelve Bob and his 
 chauffeur took up a position near the post-office. As 
 Geordie Smith knew Bradstock, he kept quietly at 
 the palace. But the interested bishop who had not 
 married Penelope kept bustling about the neigh- 
 bourhood in quite an excitement. 
 
 " I wish I was coming with you, Bob." 
 
 "Oh, do!" said Bob. 
 
 " I almost think it would be advisable," said the 
 bishop. " What I said would have weight with 
 Penelope, I believe." 
 
 " I rather wish you'd come," cried Bob. " It 
 would be fun, and you said you'd like to go in a 
 motor-car." 
 
 " So I did," said the bishop, " but I've never been 
 in one. No one has seen me in one. I fear a crowd 
 would assemble." 
 
 " At any rate, my lord, you might get in and 
 sit down a minute." 
 
 The bishop looked around. 
 
 " I really think I will," he said. And he entered 
 the car. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 257 
 
 " This is really comfortable, Bob, very comfort- 
 able, quite like an armchair. Is your driver a good 
 one?" 
 
 " A ripper," said Bob. " The best they have 
 where I got the car. It's not mine, but when I get 
 all the money that Gordon owes me, I'll buy 
 one." 
 
 The chauffeur got down and did something in- 
 explicable to the machinery with a spanner. And 
 the spanner broke. 
 
 " I'll just run across and get a new one, sir," 
 said the chauffeur. 
 
 " It's getting late," said Bob. " Don't be long, 
 and before you go start her up." 
 
 The driver set her going, and the bishop caught 
 hold of Bob. 
 
 "You're not off? This is very surprising. It 
 makes a very curious noise." 
 
 " There won't be any to speak of when we get 
 her moving," said Bob. " You see the engine is 
 going, and when we like we can start at once." 
 
 He was happy, bright, and eager. 
 
 " There's a motor-car coming," whispered the 
 bishop. 
 
 Bob jumped. 
 
 " I say, it's yellow like Pen's big new one," he 
 said. And the car stopped in front of the post- 
 
2S8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 office ten yards away. Bob grabbed the bishop's 
 arm. 
 
 "That's Geordie Smith," he said. "That's 
 Geordie getting out. I could tell his legs a mile 
 off. Where's my man ? " 
 
 But the man didn't come, and Geordie was back 
 in his car. He went off sweetly. 
 
 " The north road," said Bob. " I'm sure he'll 
 take it. He's going quick. We can't wait for my 
 man." 
 
 He grabbed the steering-wheel, shifted the lever, 
 and the car moved off on the first speed. 
 
 " I'll — I'll go a little way with you," said the 
 bishop. 
 
 " You'll have to unless you jump," replied Bob. 
 " I'll keep in sight if I die for it." 
 
 This encouraged the bishop very much, of course, 
 and it is possible that he might have jumped if he 
 had not caught sight of the dean and a minor canon, 
 who were staring hard at him with their mouths 
 as wide open as the grotesque muzzle of a Gothic 
 gargoyle. 
 
 " I'll not jump," said the bishop, and he waved 
 his hand to Mr. Dean. " No, I'll not jump before 
 the dean if I die for it." 
 
 Before he knew it, they were out on the road, 
 and the dust of the yellow car in front vras like 
 
LADY PENELOPE 259 
 
 the pillar of smoke to the Hebrews in the desert. 
 Bob let her out to the second speed, and the bishop 
 gasped. 
 
 " We go very quick," he said. 
 
 " Oh, not at all," replied Bob. " I don't want to 
 go fast. If Geordie thinks he's being followed, 
 he'll go sixty miles an hour, and I don't think I 
 can do more than forty-five in this." 
 
 "Can't you?" asked the bishop. "I'm almost 
 glad you can't." 
 
 "Is this the great north road?" asked Bob. 
 
 " No," said the bishop, " it's the road to Crow- 
 land and Spalding. I've often driven on it, but 
 never so fast as this." 
 
 Geordie's car drew ahead, and Bob put his car 
 on the third speed. 
 
 " Bob ! " cried the bishop, as he clutched the sides 
 of his seat. "Bob!" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Isn't this an illegal speed?" 
 
 " Rather," said Bob. 
 
 " I cannot aid and abet you in going at it, then," 
 said the bishop, as firmly as he could. " I must 
 request you to be legal." 
 
 Bob kept his eyes ahead. 
 
 " Please don't talk," he roared, " or I shall have 
 
26o LADY PENELOPE 
 
 an accident. You must remember I'm not at all 
 experienced." 
 
 What could the poor bishop do? He groaned 
 and sat very tight indeed, and, seeing the landscape 
 eaten up by this monster at the rate of thirty miles 
 an hour, came to the conclusion that there was noth- 
 ing stable in the universe, not even theology. And 
 about a mile ahead of them rose a pillar of dust. 
 
 " This is a remarkable situation," thought the 
 bishop ; " a situation which requires some firmness 
 of mind. I am a bishop, and I am no better than 
 half my clergy who break the law regularly. This 
 must be nearly a hundred miles an hour! I wish, 
 I almost wish Penelope had died soon after I chris- 
 tened her. This Bob is an infernal young ruffian; 
 his manner is not respectful. I should like to cane 
 him. But how can I stop him? I do not under- 
 stand these strange brass things. I could as soon 
 play the big organ in the cathedral that I wish I 
 was in. If I pull Bob he will have an accident. If 
 I speak to him, I may divert his attention — oh!" 
 
 They executed a fowl which had not learnt to 
 stand sideways, arid slammed through a village, 
 scattering several ancient inhabitants who were en- 
 joying a gossip in the middle of the road. As a 
 matter of fact, they were damning Geordie Smith 
 in heaps when the pursuing Bob fell upon them. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 261 
 
 They passed a church, and the bishop saw a clergy- 
 man staring over the wall. The village fell into 
 the category of things which had been and slid away 
 behind them. 
 
 " We are stopping still and the world slides," 
 said the bishop, " but that was Griggs, I know, and 
 he knew me. He has eyes like a hawk's. I am 
 much surprised at myself. I have seventeen en- 
 gagements this afternoon. Ridley will be alarmed. 
 The dean — oh ! " 
 
 They slammed a barking dog into the middle 
 of the week after next. 
 
 " That was a near shave," roared Bob, exulting. 
 " I've seen a smaller dog than that capsize a bigger 
 car than this ! " 
 
 " May I speak now ? " implored the bishop. 
 
 " Righto," said Bob. " Here's a good straight 
 bit. What is it? " 
 
 He was the superior : he was a big bird and the 
 bishop was a beetle. He was the head master ; his 
 lordship of the see of Spilsborough was a new boy. 
 The bishop felt small, terrified, amazed, humiliated. 
 
 " Are we going a hundred miles an hour ? " asked 
 the bishop. 
 
 " Rot ! " said Bob, " we're only doing about 
 thirty." 
 
 They scorched through quiet Crowland. 
 
262 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Please put me down," implored the humble 
 bishop. 
 
 " I can't stop," said Bob. " I'm afraid he's get- 
 ting ahead. Sit tight, bishop, I'm going faster 
 now." 
 
 " You mustn't, you can't," said the bishop. 
 
 Bob stooped for an answer and turned on the 
 fourth speed. The bishop felt the machine sailing 
 underneath him. He fell back and lost all ordinary 
 consciousness. 
 
 " It is true," said his mind deep inside him ; " it 
 is true that all things are illusion! I have some- 
 times suspected it. We are a mode of motion ; we 
 are affections of the ether. I believe Professor Os- 
 borne Reynolds is right. I am a kind of vortex 
 spinning in piled grains of ether. Bob is a vortex. 
 We are in a vortex. We are straws in ether; we 
 are shadows. I have a real non-existent pain in 
 my real imaginary non-existent stomach. I am 
 not alive and I am not dead. I am brave; I am 
 a coward ; I am a bishop. This is very wonderful. 
 I shall preach about it when I return to earth. Is 
 that a hedge? Did I see a cow? — a strange, 
 elongated, horned, lowing, permanent, impermanent 
 possibility of sensation and milk in a field made 
 of matter, which is energy, which is an illusion. 
 I become calm ; motion is relative. I almost enjoy 
 
LADY PENELOPE 263 
 
 it. I become a Hegelian. I see that being equals 
 non-being; that pain becomes pleasure if you only 
 have enough of it. I no longer pity those who 
 suffer sufficiently. There is apparently too little 
 pain in the universe. Torquemada did his best 
 to remedy it. Oh, was that a dog? I quite enjoy 
 myself. I wonder if he can go faster. If he can, 
 I wish he would. We are going slow, too slow 1 " 
 
 And, as Geordie's dust showed up much nearer, 
 Bob put his car again at the third speed, and the 
 bishop gasped. 
 
 " How do you like it ? " asked Bob, as they spun 
 through Spalding. 
 
 The bishop's face was a fine glowing crimson; 
 his bloodshot eyes glittered like opals; he was in- 
 toxicated with movement and with new lights on 
 philosophy. 
 
 "I — I should like to go a thousand miles an 
 hour at night," said the bishop. " I think it is 
 wonderful. Bob. Are you Bob, and I a bishop? 
 Where is Spilsborough ? Is there a Spilsbor- 
 ough?" 
 
 " Steady on ! " said Bob. " I say, you're ex- 
 cited!" 
 
 " I am," replied the bishop. " I am excited ; I 
 feel peculiar. I think I can originate a new philos- 
 ophy. Why are we doing this? " 
 
264 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " We are trying to find out where Penelope is," 
 said Bob. 
 
 " Penelope, Penelope," said the bishop. " Penel- 
 ope is a vortex. Yes, she is a vortex. Men and 
 women are vortices. I shall study mathematics and 
 apply it to theology." 
 
 " Hello ! " said Bob, and he stopped almost dead. 
 For Geordie's dust had suddenly died down. 
 
 " I'll bet he has a puncture," said Bob. And the 
 bishop sighed and stared about him, as if he were 
 just awakened. 
 
 " Where are we ? " he asked. 
 
 " Blessed if I know," said Bob. " But you ought 
 to know." 
 
 " I don't," said the bishop. And he got out and 
 stood on the dusty road. He reeled, and the dean 
 would have said he was intoxicated. And so he 
 was. 
 
 " Geordie's off again," said Bob. " Come, jump 
 in." 
 
 " I won't," said the bishop. " Certainly I won't. 
 That machine is a kind of devil. It undermines the 
 strongest convictions. I am afraid of it. I shall 
 have to resign my bishopric if I ride another mile." 
 
 "Oh, rot!" said Bob. "Aren't you coming? 
 I can't wait." 
 
 " Take the devilish thing away," cried the bishop. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 265 
 
 " Anathema maranatha and all the rest of it ! " 
 
 Without another word, Bob pulled the lever and 
 sailed off up the road, leaving a trail of petrol va- 
 pour behind him. 
 
 " Mentally and physically, I don't know where 
 I am," said the bishop. " I don't know who I am, 
 either. From my clothes I conclude I am a bishop, 
 but to come to that conclusion I have to assume 
 that I have the right to wear them. I have had 
 a remarkable experience. Yes, I am a bishop. 
 This is the earth and very dusty. It is hot, and I 
 am miles from anywhere." 
 
 He looked up the road and saw a far cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 " Under that dust is Bob," said the bishop. " As 
 I said, Penelope is a vortex. Everything is much 
 more remarkable than I thought, much more re- 
 markable. I shall write to the professor to dis- 
 cover what he means. It is dreadful that what may 
 be called a mere physical experience should incline 
 me to look on some of my fellow bishops and the 
 higher criticism with a more lenient eye. I don't 
 see how any dogma can survive a hundred miles 
 an hour. But Bob has not treated me altogether 
 well. He plumps me down somewhere between 
 Spalding and Spilsby or Boston or some other 
 dreadful locality under the ghostly influence of my 
 
266 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 brother of Lincoln, and disappears in dust and 
 smell. He was distinctly disrespectful. He said, 
 ' Sit down, bishop,' in a very authoritative manner. 
 He told me I was excited. I own I was, but I 
 resented being told so by a boy, because he was 
 a boy, or was it because I am a bishop ? An unac- 
 customed bishop in a motor-car is plainly nobody 
 compared with an experienced boy in one. I wish 
 Penelope was a sensible person, or that I had never 
 known her, or that she hadn't been born ! I wonder 
 what I am to do. I must walk ; I may be overtaken 
 by a cart and get a ride in one. I anticipate much 
 talk in Spilsborough about this. I wonder what 
 Ridley will say. Ridley is a stoic ; perhaps he will 
 say nothing. I wish I was near Ridley; I am 
 thirsty. This road is dusty. It also appears long 
 and interminable. I am as dry as convocation. I 
 much resent Bob's treatment of me. I wish Brad- 
 stock was here, and I was where Bradstock is. 
 Bradstock is in my library, in my chair, with a book 
 in his hand and a whiskey and soda by his side. 
 He takes things with great calmness. I wish he 
 was here to take this with calmness." 
 
 And he walked south for three hours and got 
 back to Spalding, and there took a train for Spils- 
 borough. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " I don't think I quite understand the bishop," 
 said Bob, as he left the dignitary of the Church 
 stranded long miles from anywhere. " He looked 
 very queer. But I suppose they're made bishops 
 because they are queer, unless it's on account of 
 their legs. I can understand the gaiters, but the 
 apron licks me. I'll ask him about it some day. 
 But I wonder where we are, and how much longer 
 Geordie will go on. It's luck I've had no punc- 
 ture and no breakdown. I thought it was all up 
 when I sent that dog over the hedge. He did fly. 
 I wonder whether any bobbies have spotted my 
 number. I don't care. Gordon owes me a lot of 
 money by now. What's thirty-two times two thou- 
 sand odd? Oh, I can't remember. I'm getting 
 rather tired." 
 
 But he stuck to Geordie like a burr to a sheep, 
 and between the two of them they stirred up more 
 ancient peace and the haunts of it than any other 
 two cars in the United Kingdom. They fairly 
 
 267 
 
268 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 bounded through sleepy old Boston, and a police- 
 man, waked up from sleep by Geordie, was wide- 
 awake enough by the time Bob came through to 
 call on him to stop. 
 
 " I wouldn't stop for an army of policemen," 
 said Bob, recklessly. " I don't care. I'll catch 
 Geordie if I die for it. Gordon will pay my fines. 
 I wonder how the bishop is. This is the Spilsby 
 road, is it? I wonder whether Pen's at Spilsby? 
 Will she be very cross with me? Oh, that was a 
 hen! I do think hens shouldn't be allowed in a 
 road." 
 
 A dog stood in the middle of the way and barked. 
 In the middle of his second bark, the front wheel 
 caught him. He ended his bark in the ditch, and 
 was very dreamy about the whole affair for some 
 time afterward. 
 
 " That was a dog," said Bob. " I do think dogs 
 shouldn't be allowed in a road." 
 
 He missed a horse by a hairbreadth a mile far- 
 ther on, and felt very cross. He said horses 
 shouldn't be allowed in a road. He said the same 
 of carts and of a carriage, of children and agri- 
 cultural labourers. They were so slow. For now 
 Geordie was going. pretty fast, and Bob had to go 
 on the fourth speed, which is highly illegal and 
 wicked and very dangerous. He had never enjoyed 
 
LADY PENELOPE 269 
 
 himself so much before, and he was undoubtedly 
 the happiest boy in the three kingdoms. 
 
 " Geordie doesn't know I'm after him," he said. 
 " I'll bet he's riding along easy. That car of Pen's 
 can go like lightning if he lets her out. He will 
 be mad when I come up." 
 
 And suddenly he perceived down a long, white 
 road that Geordie was going more slowly. 
 
 " This must be Spilsby," said Bob. He saw 
 Geordie's dust go ofif at a right angle toward the 
 right. 
 
 " I've done it," said the exultant boy. " We 
 must be near Pen's now." 
 
 For to turn to the right in the neighbourhood 
 of Spilsby means to go toward the North Sea. 
 
 Bob ran into Spilsby quite meekly on the second 
 speed, and turned after Geordie. A mile farther 
 on, Bob saw a house in some trees, and all of a 
 sudden there was no more dust from Geordie's car. 
 Bob pulled up in the middle of the road. 
 
 " By Jove, I've done it, I know," said Bob, " and 
 now I feel a bit nervous. I wonder what Pen will 
 say, and whether her husband is there, and what 
 the kid's like. Well, here's for it! She can't do 
 more than eat me." 
 
 And he drove on till he came to the house, which 
 was an ivy-covered building like a square barrack. 
 
2/0 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 and would have been hideous without its creepers. 
 There was a moat around it and big elms hid it 
 from a distance. The gate was open, and by the 
 front door stood Geordie and his car. Bob gave a 
 view-halloo, and, twisting through the gate, came 
 to a standstill alongside Pen's big yellow racer. 
 
 And Penelope herself came to the door, and saw 
 not only Geordie, whom she recognized simply by 
 the fact that he was in a car she knew, but an un- 
 distinguishable stranger also. 
 
 "Oh!" said Bob. 
 
 "Eh?" said Geordie. 
 
 "Who — " said Penelope. 
 
 And Bob staggered out of his machine, and fairly 
 reeled when he stood upright. He had no notion 
 that no one, not even Titania, could have recog- 
 nized him. He forgot his goggles, and he forgot 
 he was so dusty that one might have planted cab- 
 bages on his cheeks. He did not know that he 
 weighed several pounds more than usual, owing to 
 the amount of Lincolnshire that he carried on him. 
 He had no idea that he was awful, hideous, a gog- 
 gled, dirty portent. He smiled, and the dirt cracked 
 upon him, and Penelope shrank back. 
 
 " Oh, I say. Pen, are you mad with me? " he 
 asked. 
 
 And Penelope shrieked and ran to him, and, fall- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 271 
 
 ing upon him, embraced him with horrible results 
 to her clothes. 
 
 "Oh, Bob, Bob, is it you?" she cried. 
 
 " It's me, right enough," said Bob. " I say, can 
 I have a drink? I'm dying! Am I dusty? Yes, 
 so I am. Oh, Pen, it's come off on you ! I say, I 
 do want a drink. It's such a warm day, and Geordie 
 would go so fast. I followed Geordie." 
 
 Geordie looked horribly disgusted, but neither 
 Pen nor Bob paid the least attention to him. 
 
 " Followed up by a boy," groaned Geordie, " and 
 in that thing!" 
 
 He regarded the mean fifteen-horse^power con- 
 cern with great contempt. " Well, I'm blessed ! " 
 
 "Oh, come in. Bob, dear Bob," said Pen. 
 
 "Are you glad to see me?" 
 
 " Oh, I've been dying to see you." 
 
 "Upon your honour?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Penelope. " I want to ask you 
 so much, and I've got so much to say. But tell 
 me, tell me quick. Does any one else know where 
 I am?" 
 
 Bob shook dust out of his head. 
 
 " Not a soul, unless it's the bishop," he replied. 
 
 "What bishop?" 
 
 " The Bishop of Spilsborough," replied Bob. " I 
 left him on the road." 
 
272 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Pen, "is he following you?" 
 
 " Not much," said Bob. " He got scared and 
 got out and wouldn't get in again, and he talked 
 such rot I thought he was mad, for a bishop, so I 
 left him, and suppose he's walking home again." 
 
 Pen almost shook him. 
 
 " But what was he doing with you ? " 
 
 " He wanted to come part of the way in my car, 
 so I let him, and he was awfully funky. I don't 
 think much of bishops if they're all like him, though 
 he did stop Plant and Rivaulx fighting with swords 
 in the cathedral." 
 
 "Fighting? with swords? Oh, what — " said 
 Penelope. 
 
 " To be sure, I forgot you very likely didn't 
 know. I'll tell you by and by. Bradstock's at 
 Spilsborough. Where's my drink. Pen? I say, 
 did you hear of Mr. Bunting at Oxford? That 
 was fun. He threw De Vere out of the window, 
 and knocked Carteret Williams down with Liddell 
 and Scott." 
 
 "What Mr. Bunting?" 
 
 "They thought he was Timothy Bunting, but 
 he wasn't. I had tea with him afterward. I'll tell 
 you by and by. Do you know grandmother had 
 fits about it all?" 
 
 Penelope knew nothing, or very little, and as the 
 
LADY PENELOPE 273 
 
 results of her fatal conduct were thus revealed to 
 her in dreadful incomplete chunks, her heart almost 
 failed her and she half-forgot her own terrible 
 troubles. 
 
 " Am I mad, or is Bob? " she asked. " Oh, the 
 bishop and Guardy and duels and fits and Mr. Bunt- 
 ing and windows and Liddell and Bob having tea ! " 
 
 She ran for a drink herself, and poured it over 
 Bob in her eagerness for more news. 
 
 " I say. Pen, be careful ! That went down my 
 neck," said Bob, " and outside it, too. I say, who've 
 you married? Tell me. Where's the kid? May I 
 see it ? I say. Pen, you look splendid, but sad some- 
 how and rather worried. I feel better now. I don't 
 mind what went down outside. Pll have a bath 
 soon. Where's the kid ? They do talk a lot about 
 it in town. They say, some of 'em, that you've 
 married the Rajah of Jugpore, the little beast, and 
 that the baby is black, or partly black. Is it? I 
 know it isn't." 
 
 " Oh, oh! " said Pen, " how horrible of them ! " 
 
 She rushed at the bell, and when the servant 
 came she commanded the instant appearance of the 
 baby and the nurse. 
 
 " You know they said you married Timothy 
 Bunting," said Bob. 
 
 Penelope flushed crimson. 
 
274 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " It was wicked of them." 
 
 " That beast Weekes told granny you had. She 
 said she knew it. That's how I had tea with Mr. 
 Bunting at Oxford, after he'd chucked Plant and 
 Gordon down-stairs. They were sick. Oh, oh! 
 is this the kid?" 
 
 Pen took the precious infant in her arms, and 
 told the nurse she might go and have tea. When 
 she had disappeared, Pen burst into tears. 
 
 " He's — he's all I've got," she said, sobbing. 
 
 Bob started. 
 
 " I say, what do you mean ? You don't mean 
 you aren't married at all? " 
 
 " No, no," said Penelope. " I mean — oh, it's 
 terrible ! Oh, baby, I love you ! " 
 
 She kissed the baby, who was certainly a very 
 fine baby, and wept again. Bob inspected the boy 
 with great interest. 
 
 " I say, I rather think it's like Plant," he said. 
 
 Pen gasped. 
 
 " But in this light, it's rather like Gordon." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Penelope. 
 
 " And its forehead is like De Vere's a little. 
 I say, won't you tell me who you've married ? " 
 
 Penelope hugged the baby and howled. 
 
 " I can't, I can't. We've q-quarrelled," she said, 
 " and he's furious, and I'm f-furious with him." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 275 
 
 "Why?" asked Bob, still inspecting the baby 
 for signs of his male parentage, " why? Oh, I say, 
 sideways he reminds me of Williams and Rivaulx, 
 and upside down he's a little like Carew and Goby. 
 But why have you quarrelled. Pen ? " 
 
 Pen explained with tears how it had happened. 
 
 " You see, I said he wasn't to tell," she said. 
 " And he went to your grandmother and told ! " 
 
 " So did all the rest," said Bob, " and that was 
 where granny got very confused. I listened. I 
 know it was a sneak thing to do, but I was thinking 
 of your interests, and she said to the last of 'em: 
 ' I know you've come to say you've married dear 
 Penelope.' It was very pathetic. Pen. I never 
 thought granny could be pathetic before. She 
 usually makes me pathetic instead, or she used to. 
 But was he one of 'em ? " 
 
 " He was," sniffed Pen, " and he broke his sol- 
 emn oath. The others were noble. I sent them 
 telegrams to say they were noble." 
 
 " That's why they all went to Spilsborough, 
 where you sent the tel^rams from," said Bob, 
 " and that's why Plant and Rivaulx fought with 
 swords under the cathedral, till the bishop and the 
 dean stopped them. I tell you the dean was mad." 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear ! " said Penelope. " I wish they 
 wouldn't. Did they hurt each other?" 
 
276 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Not much, I think," replied Bob. " I didn't 
 see any blood. But when I told 'em you'd married 
 Timothy Bunting, Rivaulx lay on the grass and 
 tried to bite it and howled dreadfully." 
 
 " Poor marquis ! " said Pen. " But why did you 
 tell them so dreadful a story?" 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I'm sorry. Pen, but I believed it. Weekes said 
 she knew, and granny had fits. There's something 
 about fits that makes you believe almost anything. 
 But you haven't told me who it is. I say, with 
 the light sideways on that baby, he reminds me of 
 Bramber. But who is it?" 
 
 " We've p-parted," said Penelope. " He came 
 and said he'd told, and I was very f-furious, and we 
 had a r-row. And he was so cross and mad, because 
 without me he couldn't prove it. For we were mar- 
 ried in other names, and I wrote my name in an- 
 other handwriting, and I said I would deny it. And 
 he flew into a passion and into a motor-car and 
 went away. And I've only my p-pride and b-baby 
 left. And I'm so sorry for every one. And how 
 did you find me?" 
 
 Bob told her how he had done it, and told her 
 of Bradstock's advertisement, and told her about 
 the bishop, and more about Mr. Bunting of All 
 Saints, Oxford, who was the strongest man he had 
 
LADY PENELOPE 277 
 
 ever seen. Carteret Williams was nothing in his 
 hands. 
 
 " And now I've told you everything, won't you 
 tell me who it is?" 
 
 " No," said poor Penelope; " it would humiliate 
 me to tell now, and I won't." 
 
 " But they must know here," said Bob. 
 
 " Only three," replied Penelope. " Miss Mack- 
 amess and Geordie Smith and Timothy. And Tim- 
 othy was so unhappy when he heard he had mar- 
 ried me that I sent him away to Upwell, where there 
 are more horses. But he's back now. And Miss 
 Mackamess and Geordie Smith have sworn not to 
 tell. And I expect you not to ask them." 
 
 Bob snorted a little at this. 
 
 " Oh, all right, but I shall have to say where you 
 are when. I go back to Spilsborough." 
 
 " Oh, you won't," said Pen. 
 
 " I must," said Bob. " Bradstock is terribly wor- 
 ried about it now, and thinks you've treated him 
 badly, and the bishop is very curious, and he asks 
 questions in a way that it's difficult not to answer 
 somehow. And besides there's granny and all the 
 rest. I say, do you know Gordon has been spec- 
 ulating for me, and has made seventy thousand 
 pounds for me?". 
 
 " You don't say so? " cried Pen. 
 
278 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I think it must be Gordon," said Bob. " When 
 the shadow's on that kid, he looks rather like Gor- 
 don, if you can think of Gordon as a baby, which 
 is hard. But when I'm a duke, I shall rebuild Gor- 
 ing and pay off some of the mortgages. Whoever 
 you've married, I'm very grateful to you, Pen, 
 about Gordon and De Vere. De Vere bought the 
 spotted dog I told you of. I found Goby weeping 
 with Ethel. That made me think it wasn't him. 
 But now you say you've quarrelled with him, I'm 
 not sure again. I say, I'm very sleepy. May I 
 stay to-night?" 
 
 " Of course," said Penelope. And then a bril- 
 liant idea struck her. 
 
 " Bob, you do love me, don't you ? " 
 
 " What rot ! of course," said Bob. 
 
 " Then stay here altogether for a time," said Pen. 
 
 "By Jove, what fun!" cried Bob. "I'll send 
 'em a wire, and I will. Can Geordie go somewhere 
 else but Spilsborough and send one? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Penelope. And it was ar- 
 ranged that Geordie should go to Lincoln to send 
 it from there. This is the telegram Bob sent to 
 Lord Bradstock: 
 
 " I have found Penelope. She won't say who 
 it is because she has quarrelled with him, and she 
 won't let me come back yet. I will take care of her. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 279 
 
 Tell grandmother and Guthrie. She quarrelled 
 with him because he said he was married to her. 
 But the baby is not black." 
 
 And Bradstock swore. The bishop was too tired 
 to swear, perhaps, but he was very cross. So were 
 all the others, including her husband. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 They had relied greatly upon Bob. The bishop, 
 though rather bitter on the subject of Bob, tried 
 to be fair to him, and said he was a very promis- 
 ing boy. 
 
 " I think it most remarkable," said his lordship, 
 when his fine but tired l^s were beneath the ma- 
 hogany once more, " that he should be able to drive 
 these dreadful machines with such skill. He missed 
 a great many things that he might have hit, but, 
 as he said, he * boosted ' one dog over a hedge in 
 a most skilful way. He said ' boosted,' a very 
 peculiar word. I must write to Doctor Murray 
 about it. But I do not think he has been brought 
 up with care. He was not altogether respectful 
 to me, Bradstock." 
 
 " I much regret it," said Bradstock, " but what 
 can you expect at Goring? On the whole, his man- 
 ners are not so bad. Perhaps you annoyed him. 
 He does not like being annoyed." 
 
 "Indeed," said the bishop, "indeed! Well, I 
 280 
 
LADY PENELOPE 281 
 
 may have worried him in a way that I do not quite 
 understand. But I have to own that for a boy 
 to put his hand on my shoulder and say, ' Sit down, 
 bishop,' in a most authoritative way, made me a 
 little cross. And when I refused to enter the motor- 
 car again, I think he might have given me more 
 time to reflect on the fact that I was a very long 
 way from anywhere. He was very short and per- 
 emptory with me. It was most curious, and I re- 
 gret I did not go on with him, for I am extremely 
 anxious to put an end to this scandal. One never 
 knows what will happen. The duel in the moon- 
 light under the cathedral was most remarkable. I 
 wonder when Bob will return." 
 
 " So do I," said Bradstock, drily. 
 
 "Why do you say so in that tone?" asked the 
 bishop. 
 
 " Because I doubt whether he will return at all 
 if he finds Penelope," replied Bradstock. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried the bishop, " but he 
 went for the very purpose of discovering her." 
 
 " You don't know Pen," said Bradstock, " and 
 he worships her. If she doesn't want to be dis- 
 covered, she will keep him. I am certain of it." 
 
 This showed that Bradstock, though a silent peer, 
 was a very sensible one. The bishop frowned and 
 smote the table. 
 
282 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " I shall be extremely angry with Bob if you turn 
 out to be right," he said, firmly. " I shall be ex- 
 tremely angry with him." 
 
 " Much he will care about that," said Bradstock. 
 " You ought to have gone on with him." 
 
 " I believe I ought to have done so. Yes, you 
 are right, Bradstock ; it was an error of judgment. 
 I was a coward. I was afraid to die. I did not 
 like the idea of being ' boosted ' over a hedge. I 
 am ashamed of myself." 
 
 " Never mind," said Bradstock, consolingly, " I 
 have seen heroes quail in a motor-car. I myself 
 have quailed in one." 
 
 The bishop shook his head. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I blame myself. I ought not to 
 have been afraid, even though I felt peculiar and 
 unwonted sensations in my gaiters," he murmured. 
 
 He smote the table again. 
 
 " I will make amends, Bradstock. I will devote 
 myself to the task of finding Penelope at any speed 
 that is necessary. I cannot quite reconcile myself 
 to the notion that I am a coward. I will find her 
 if Bob deceives us." 
 
 " You can't," said Bradstock, rather gloomily, 
 
 " I can, I will," said the bishop. " I will use 
 my brains." 
 
 It was a happy thought. The bishop mused. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 283 
 
 There was a knock at the outer door. It was a 
 double, a telegraphic knock. 
 
 " From the duchess ? " asked the bishop. 
 
 " From Bob, or I am a bishop," said the peer. 
 
 And Ridley gave him a telegram. Bradstock 
 read it slowly, lifted his eyebrows, rubbed his hand- 
 some white head, and handed it to the bishop. 
 
 " From Bob, bishop, a very remarkable Bobbish 
 document." 
 
 The bishop read it. 
 
 " It certainly is a remarkable document, a very 
 remarkable document, indeed," said his lordship. 
 " I see it was handed in at Lincoln. She won't 
 say who it is because she has quarrelled with him. 
 With her husband, that is to say. She will not let 
 Bob come back. She quarrelled with him because 
 he said he was married to her. Very remarkable! 
 Somewhat confusing. But it is a relief to hear that 
 the baby is not black, Bradstock." 
 
 Bradstock was pessimistic. 
 
 " It may be half-black," he said, mournfully. 
 
 " Which half ? " asked the bishop, with alarm. 
 " If it is, I hope it will not be the top half." 
 
 " Absurd ! " said Bradstock. " I mean it may be 
 dun or yellowish." 
 
 " Let us trust not," replied the bishop. " I am 
 inclined to think Bob would have said it was not 
 
284 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 very black if it had been at all coloured. I thinl 
 we may dismiss the Jugpore legend." 
 
 " I trust we may," said Bradstock. 
 
 " I have an idea," said the bishop. " I have a 
 luminous idea. Let us go to the library." 
 
 They adjourned to the library, and Bradstock 
 lighted a cigar. 
 
 " What is your idea ? " he asked. 
 
 " I will tell you in a few minutes," said the 
 bishop, as he laid a big atlas upon his table. Brad- 
 stock watched him curiously. The bishop opened 
 the atlas and laid a flat ruler on it. He shifted 
 it once or twice, nodded his head, said " Ah ! " and 
 nodded it again. 
 
 " I believe I have it," said the bishop. " It will 
 be worth trying, at any rate." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Bradstock. 
 
 " Come and look at the atlas," said the bishop, 
 and Bradstock did as he was asked. 
 
 The bishop put his finger-tips together and 
 began : 
 
 " Bob was following this person named Smith, 
 and went north, did he not? Let us say north. 
 I believe it is technically north by east. He put me 
 out, or, to be fair even to Bob, I got out and was 
 asked to return very casually, north of Spalding 
 in the Boston road, miles from anywhere. This 
 
LADY PENELOPE 285 
 
 Smith was going back to Penelope. For while Bob 
 and I were away, you got her telegram dated Spils- 
 borough, sent to London and re-telegraphed to you 
 here, saying that she was well, in reply to your 
 Times advertisement. Obviously, Penelope lives 
 somewhere north of the spot where Bob left me 
 without time for argument. Do you follow me? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Bradstock. " It is all as clear 
 as quaternions." 
 
 " Now we get this very remarkable document 
 from Lincoln." 
 
 " We do, bishop." 
 
 " It is obvious she doesn't live at Lincoln. She 
 has sent this very fast Smith there to send off Bob's 
 telegram. Is that not so? " 
 
 " Of course," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Let us imagine that Lincoln is nearly as far 
 from where she is as Spilsborough is." 
 
 " Let us imagine it," said Bradstock. " I am 
 willing to imagine it." 
 
 " What conclusion do you draw ? " asked the 
 bishop. 
 
 Bradstock shook his head. 
 
 " Really, Bradstock," said the bishop, " I am sur- 
 prised at you. If she is between Spalding and 
 Lough, as I'm sure she is, an equal distance from 
 her to Lincoln and from her to Spilsborough would 
 
286 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 place her about Boston, or perhaps farther north. 
 Now, if on inquiry we find she is not near Boston, 
 she must be near a decent road fit for motor-cars 
 to Lincoln. Do you follow me?" 
 
 " I do," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Then if she is not near Boston, where is she? " 
 
 Bradstock studied the map. 
 
 " I should say Burgh, or Wamfleet, or Spilsby." 
 
 " Right," said the bishop. " I am almost sure 
 of it. For if she had been farther north, she would 
 not have chosen Spilsborough to telegraph from 
 in the first instance. What do you say to that?" 
 
 " I say that I am not surprised that you are a 
 bishop, though I may wonder why you are in the 
 Church," said Bradstock. 
 
 " What do you mean by that, Bradstock? " asked 
 his lordship. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing at all," replied Bradstock, 
 hastily. " I agree with you. What shall we do?" 
 
 The bishop eyed him a little doubtfully, but re- 
 turned to his muttons. 
 
 " I want to bowl out Bob," he said. 
 
 " A bishop is a human being, after all," thought 
 Bradstock. 
 
 " He might have reasoned with me," said the 
 bishop. " I am quite free the day after to-morrow, 
 and we will go to Boston and make inquiries. If 
 
LADY PENELOPE 287 
 
 they fail, we will try Warnfleet and Spilsby and 
 Burgh." 
 
 " We will," said Bradstock. " I think this idea 
 of yours exceedingly clever, bishop." 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Certain, I do." 
 
 " I forgive your recent gibe," said the bishop. 
 " It was clearer than quaternions to me, and much 
 clearer than Bob's rudeness, which I continue to 
 find inexplicable. And now I think the duchess 
 should be informed of his telegram. It will console 
 her, I am sure, to learn that this fatherless infant 
 is not black." 
 
 " Not very black," insisted Bradstock. 
 
 And the bishop sent a wire to Titania, saying that 
 Bob had disappeared into space, but had telegraphed 
 saying that he had found Penelope with a normal 
 infant. 
 
 " After all, he only said it wasn't black," sighed 
 Bradstock. 
 
 But the bishop would not listen to him. So he 
 went out arid sent a wire to Titania himself. 
 
 " I should like to make Bob black and blue," the 
 bishop said. For his legs still ached. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Next morning the bishop had an hysteric tele- 
 gram from Titania. It was obscure and of great 
 length : 
 
 " Do not understand anything, but have hopes. 
 Your telegram arrived before Augustin's. You say 
 normal; he says Robert's words do not convey 
 anything but negation of extreme blackness. Jug- 
 pore going back to India, owing to scandalous con- 
 duct at music-hall. India Office furious. Secretary 
 of State in bed. Rumour now affirms infant not 
 Penelope's. Says adopted. Have just seen Plant 
 and Gordon and Carteret Williams, and expect the 
 others. They say they knew it all the time. Say 
 they gave her the infant. Am confused, but hope 
 you and Augustin will clear up details and find 
 Penelope. Am exceedingly vexed with Robert. 
 De Vere has just come, weeps, but seems pleased. 
 Bramber wires wishes to see me, but father is ill 
 at Pulborough, doctors (three) giving up hope. 
 Goby just left. Will come to Spilsborough myself 
 
 288 
 
LADY PENELOPE 289 
 
 to-day if doctor permits, owing to palpitations. 
 Keep me informed." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said the bishop, " this seems quite 
 a new development, a very surprising one. But 
 I am sorry to see, Bradstock, that you sent another 
 telegram without consulting me." 
 
 " I didn't want you to give her too much hope," 
 replied Bradstock. " You were so certain. Your 
 telegram was not logical. What is not black is not 
 necessarily white, for not-black may be green, or 
 blue, or magenta." 
 
 " You are a pessimist," said the bishop. " How- 
 ever, I forgive you. What surprises me is this 
 adoption story. I don't believe it." 
 
 Bradstock was fractious. 
 
 " Well, I don't know, bishop. She always said 
 if she had none of her own she would adopt one." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the bishop. 
 
 " It is not nonsense," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Why don't you say they are twins ? " demanded 
 the bishop. 
 
 "What are twins?" 
 
 " It," said the bishop. " Really, Bradstock, don't 
 you see you are unreasonable? You will believe 
 anything." 
 
 " And this from a bishop," murmured Bradstock. 
 " Why should I say it was twins ? " 
 
290 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " If she adopted one, she mig-ht adopt two," said 
 the bishop. 
 
 " That is ridiculous. I never heard of twins 
 being adopted," cried Bradstock. " Besides, Bob 
 says ' the baby.' " 
 
 " Well, well," said the bishop, " do not let us 
 argue passionately about a detail." 
 
 " I do not see that twins can be called a detail," 
 said Bradstock, crossly. 
 
 " Very well, call them what you like," said the 
 bishop, hastily. " But I expect the duchess will 
 be here any moment." 
 
 Bradstock said he shouldn't wonder if she was. 
 
 " She will insist on coming with us to-morrow," 
 he said. 
 
 The bishop started. 
 
 " Bradstock, we will go to-day. I will put off 
 my business and go at once. The duchess is a re- 
 markable woman, but she talks too much." 
 
 And such was his lordship's energy that they 
 started by train for Boston in less than half an 
 hour. 
 
 " I rather enjoy this," said the bishop. " This 
 is an unusual event in a life like mine, Bradstock. 
 I wonder whether we shall succeed, and I wonder 
 what the young rascal will say when he sees me. 
 He will be rather abashed, I fancy." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 291 
 
 "Do you fancy that?" asked Bradstock. "Is 
 imagination necessary, by the way, for the clerical 
 or episcopal life? " 
 
 " It is highly necessary, but rare," said the bishop. 
 
 " So I should imagine," said Bradstock. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked the bishop, 
 a little warmly. 
 
 Bradstock said he meant nothing by it, except 
 that he was glad it was necessary. Nevertheless, 
 the bishop looked at him sternly for some minutes, 
 and he felt rather uncomfortable. 
 
 " I should not be surprised if Titania was now 
 at the palace," he said, to change the conversation. 
 
 " Ridley and my housekeeper must deal with 
 her," said the bishop. " Ridley deals with every 
 one calmly. Kings and curates come equally and 
 easily within his powers. Ridley may most dis- 
 tinctly be called an adequate butler. He will offer 
 her my best spare bedroom, or arrange for her 
 sojourn at the Grand. I do not believe an arch- 
 bishop in a fit would throw Ridley off his balance. 
 I rather wondered whether it would disturb him 
 to see me come in with two duelling-swords under 
 my arm upon that memorable occasion of the duel, 
 but Ridley was as calm as — as an adequate butler. 
 I rejoice in Ridley. If we fail to-day, I think I 
 will ask his advice. He is a sound and solid 
 
292 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 thinker. I hardly think I should have been a 
 bishop to-day, but for Ridley. When I was a vicar 
 of St. Mary's at Ray Pogis, he came to me, then 
 deeply engaged in smashing Hamack into dust, 
 and said : ' Sir, the Prime Minister is staying at 
 Pogis House.' I knew if he was at Pogis House, 
 he would attend New Pogis church. The incum- 
 bent at New Pogis was one of those men whom 
 it would require much courage to make an arch- 
 deacon of, and he was under great obligations to 
 me. I spoke to him. He fell ill most opportunely. 
 I preached a sermon which had every appearance 
 of spontaneity, though I had spent months upon 
 it, keeping it by me for some such occasion, as it 
 dealt with the duties of men in high position, and 
 three months later I was offered Spilsborough. 
 But for Ridley, I might still be a vicar. This, I 
 believe, Bradstock, is Boston." 
 
 They left the train and began to make inquiries 
 just about the time that Ridley was dealing with 
 the duchess. He knew all about her, all about the 
 duke, all about Penelope, all about Bradstock, and 
 all about the " horde." He had read all the tele- 
 grams, those which were sent and those which he 
 had picked out of the bishop's waste-paper basket. 
 
 " Yes, your Grace," said Ridley, " his lordship 
 the bishop was called away early with Lord Brad- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 293 
 
 stock on important business. He wrote a letter 
 which his lordship has probably taken away in his 
 pocket, and desired me to ask your Grace whether 
 you would prefer to stay here or at the Grand. 
 The Grand is comfortable, but this is quiet." 
 
 " I will stay here," said the duchess. " I should 
 like to lie down at once." 
 
 And when she was comfortable, Ridley cross- 
 examined her maid about everything, and was soon 
 on firm ground. 
 
 " You may rely on his lordship," said Ridley. 
 " With me at his back, he will be an archbishop 
 yet. No, certainly not. The baby is not black 
 if his lordship says so." 
 
 " But they do say she's not married and it isn't 
 hers," said the lady's maid, shaking her head. 
 " They say now that she has adopted it." 
 
 " When I hear of young^ ladies adopting infants 
 in obscure parts of the country, I know what to 
 think," said Ridley. 
 
 "Lord, Mr. Ridley, but I can't believe it of 
 her," urged the maid. 
 
 " I am alleging nothing against her young lady- 
 ship," said Ridley. " She states it is hers. I said 
 that if she stated that she had adopted it, I should 
 know what to think. When she states it, I will 
 tell you what I think. And in the meantime I may 
 
294 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 say that I expect every one connected with this 
 unseemly business to be here shortly. I am a man 
 of some discernment. This adoption rumour will 
 encourage these poor gentlemen, who are all mad, 
 and they will follow her Grace here, or I am a mere 
 footman in a poor family and my name's not Rid- 
 ley." 
 
 It apparently was Ridley, for there was a very 
 loud knock at the door. 
 
 " Mr. Ridley, will you see this gentleman ? " said 
 the footman, handing the butler a card, on which 
 was engraved the name of Leopold Norfolk Gor- 
 don. " He seems very excited. I think he's a Jew." 
 
 "A Jew!" said Ridley. 
 
 " By the looks of 'im a Jew," said the footman. 
 And her Grace's maid gave them a few details of 
 Mr. Gordon's career. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course," said Ridley. " I remem- 
 ber. Let him wait, Johnson. He can wait in the 
 little room. As a Christian, I confess to feeling 
 bitter against Jews, especially as I once borrowed 
 money from one." 
 
 " This is a very nice one, though," said the lady's 
 maid, " and Mr. Robert is quite fond of him." 
 
 " I cannot stomach the idea," said Ridley. " I 
 thought better of the boy. But I suppose I must 
 see what he wants, though I can guess." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 295 
 
 He interviewed Gordon in the little room. 
 
 " I want to see his lordship the bishop," said 
 Gordon. 
 
 " His lordship the bishop is absent on important 
 business, sir," said Ridley. He added to himself, 
 " As the butler of a Christian bishop, I object to 
 calling him ' sir ; ' but as a butler in the habstract 
 I must." 
 
 "Where has he gone?" asked Gordon. "Do 
 you know? " 
 
 " He has gone to look for her young' ladyship, 
 sir." 
 
 "Ah! I guessed it! With Lord Bradstock?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, with his lordship." 
 
 " Which way has he gone? " 
 
 " I don't think, sir, that I should be justified in 
 mentioning which way, sir," said Ridley. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you would," said Gordon. He put his 
 hand in his pocket. 
 
 " I do not think so, sir. At least, I have doubts," 
 said Ridley, with modified firmness. 
 
 Gordon took out a sovereign and scratched his 
 nose with it. 
 
 "Which way?" 
 
 " Boston way," said Ridley. " Thank you, sir. 
 But I do not think you can find him or catch him. 
 Could I assist you in any manner, sir? Things 
 
296 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 are mixed, sir. Have you heard the news that Mr. 
 Robert sent?" 
 
 " What news ? " asked Gordon. 
 
 " I 'ardly think I should be justified in repeating 
 it, sir," said Ridley. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you would," said Gordon, as he put 
 his hand in his pocket. 
 
 And Ridley told him all about everything. Gor- 
 don knew very little beyond the fact that Bob had 
 sent a telegram to Bradstock, who had sent it to 
 the duchess, who had published it on the wires that 
 the infant was not black. And of course he knew 
 the fresh London rumour that Penelope had 
 adopted it. 
 
 " Her Grace the Duchess of Goring is now in the 
 palace, sir," said Ridley. " And between you and 
 me, sir, I should not be surprised if all the other 
 gentlemen came. I suppose you heard of the duel, 
 sir?" 
 
 "What duel?" asked Gordon. 
 
 " I do not thirit I should be justified in saying 
 which duel, sir," said Ridley. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you would," said Gordon, thinking 
 that a Christian butler was a very expensive per- 
 son to deal with. And Ridley told him. 
 
 "You'll send me word to the Grand when his 
 lordship comes back ? " said Gordon. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 297 
 
 "I should hardly be — " 
 
 " Of course, you would be," said Gordon. 
 
 " Very well, I will, sir," said Ridley. 
 
 Gordon went back to the hotel, and Ridley went 
 back to the others. 
 
 " He's not at all bad for a Jew," he said, con- 
 templatively, " not at all bad. I only hope that the 
 Christian gentlemen whom I expect every moment 
 will be as reasonable." 
 
 Before the evening was over, he interviewed with 
 varying results Mr. Rufus Q. Plant, Mr. de Vere, 
 Captain Goby, and Mr. Carteret Williams. He 
 knew that Lord Bramber couldn't come on account 
 of the illness of the earl, and he heard that Carew 
 was down with influenza and delirious on the sub- 
 ject of Penelope. He told the others what he 
 thought of them all. 
 
 " Mr. Plant is a man I should like to meet often," 
 said Ridley. " I have heard people say unpleasant 
 things of Americans. It may be true that they 
 know little of cathedrals. I myself have heard an 
 American speak of our best Norman harches as 
 vurry elegant Gothic. I have known one voluble 
 with hadmiration of a beastly bit of late perpen- 
 dic'lar. But a man may know little of harchitecture 
 and be a very worthy person for all that. This Mr. 
 Plant has ways that I've heard described as befit- 
 
298 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 ting a nobleman. My own opinion is that very 
 few noblemen have ideas befitting an American 
 millionaire. Dukes are often mean; earls also. I 
 am acquainted with one viscount who is viciously 
 careful. Mr. Plant is a gentleman far above the 
 others, even above Captain Goby, who has a gen- 
 erous mind. Mr. Williams is peculiar, but, for a 
 poor man, not mean. His second cousin, Lord 
 Carteret, when I knew him, was as fine an open- 
 handed, swearing nobleman as one would wish to 
 meet. Mr. Austin de Vere is peculiar; mad, I 
 think, about dogs especially. Young Mr. Robert 
 told me he collected bulldogs. He said it with a 
 wink which I did not understand. I wonder where 
 his lordship is now." 
 
 His lordship the bishop and Lord Bradstock were 
 both cross. They had drawn Boston blank, and 
 found it tooi late arid too hot to go on to Spilsby 
 and Waynfleet and Burgh. 
 
 " Well," said the bishop, " we have proved a 
 certain amount. She isn't at Boston." 
 
 " Nor at Windsor or Manchester or Bristol or 
 Plymouth," said Bradstock, whose temper was rap- 
 idly going. 
 
 " I am surprised at you," said the bishop, who 
 felt it necessary not to be cross when Bradstodc 
 was. " We have also proved that a ye;llow' car 
 
LADY PENELOPE 299 
 
 comes through here very often, mostly without dis- 
 astrous results. She is farther north. We will go 
 to Spilsby to-morrow, I think." 
 
 " I think I will stay at home," replied Bradstock, 
 " or at your place, and I'll read theology." 
 
 The bishop raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " It will do you good, if you can understand it," 
 he said, a little tartly. 
 
 " I do not expect to understand it," said Brad- 
 stock. 
 
 "Then why read it?" 
 
 " Only to see if the theologians understand it," 
 replied Bradstock. 
 
 It was quite evident that events were proving too 
 much for Bradstock. It was also evident that Brad- 
 stock was proving too much for the bishop. 
 
 " As a layman, you had better stick to Paley," 
 said the bishop, tartly. " But let us return to Spils- 
 borough. I own my temper is a little touchy to-- 
 day, Bradstock." 
 
 Bradstock's heart softened. 
 
 " Bishop, I apologize for touching it," he said. 
 " Penelope is rather too much for me." 
 
 " She is too much for all of us, I fear," said the 
 bishop. 
 
 They took the train for home, and, as they moved 
 out of the station, a man in the waterproof clothing 
 
300 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 of a chauffeur came on the platform. He was not 
 wearing goggles. 
 
 " Bishop," said Bradstock, " that man is Geordie 
 Smith." 
 
 " Do you think he saw us ? " 
 
 "How do I know?" 
 
 " I didn't ask how you could know. I only asked 
 what your opinion was," said the bishop. 
 
 " My opinion is worthless," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said the bishop, blandly. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 England was excited, and London was more 
 excited still. But Spilsborough was the most ex- 
 cited of them all. How it came out, no one knew, 
 but the fact that the bishop was hunting- for Lady 
 Penelope Brading, who was married, who was un- 
 married, who had an infant which was black, which 
 was white, which was adopted, was blazed all over 
 that quiet episcopal town. Dean Briggs was very 
 much annoyed, for the cathedral was no longer the 
 centre of interest in the place. The clergy and the 
 choir and the beadles and the tradesmen all dis- 
 cussed Lady Penelope. They stood in knots and 
 fought and wrangled and argued till they were 
 metaphorically black in the face. The lovers were 
 pursued by gangs of boys who knew their names, 
 and expected them to fight when they met, and fol- 
 lowed them around in the hope of making a ring 
 for them. All the world was aware that the duchess 
 was at the palace. As a result, every one called 
 
 301 
 
302 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 there who was on terms with the bishop. It is not 
 at all surprising that rumour ran fast, east and west 
 and south and north. It is not every day that a 
 quiet cathedral town is the centre of a vast social 
 cyclone. Boston and Spalding had their eyes on 
 Spilsborough. Boston knew that the bishop had 
 made an unepiscopal visitation there with a white- 
 haired peer. Spilsby heard of it, and was jealous. 
 Spilsby talked of it and began to wonder who the 
 young married lady at the Moat House was. Spilsby 
 wondered slowly. In Lincolnshire things move 
 slowly. Lincolnshire is not fast. Folks there are 
 rooted to the soil ; they consider matters firmly and 
 stolidly. And of course it has to be remembered 
 that they belong to the see of Lincoln and do not 
 think very much of Spilsborough. Spilsborough 
 was all very well, no doubt, but Lincoln was older 
 and finer and much more wonderful. Nevertheless, 
 though the Lincolnshire folks are slow, they get 
 there at last. It vt^as all very well for Penelope 
 to call herself Mrs. Bramwell. The Spilsby people 
 began to see through the matter. In another month 
 they would have solved the problem, and would 
 have given away the solution by calling Mrs. Bram- 
 well " Your ladyship." But this was not to be, for 
 when Geordie came back from Boston, he went 
 to Bob at once. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 303 
 
 " Mr. Robert, the gaff is pretty nigh blowed," 
 he said, earnestly. 
 
 "Is it?" asked Bob. 
 
 " Safe as houses," said Geordie. " I've my sus- 
 picions that the whole show is up the spout, or very 
 nigh up! " 
 
 " You don't say so ? " said Bob. 
 
 " Blimy, but I do say it," replied Geordie. " I 
 saw that gaitered josser, the bishop, at Boston this 
 very afternoon. Her ladyship will be spoofed and 
 smelt out. Some one is givin' the game away. I 
 don't trust that bishop." 
 
 " No more do I," said Bob. " He's very mean, 
 Geordie. He encouraged me to follow you so that 
 I could tell them where my cousin was." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Geordie, " and they call him a 
 bishop! Her ladyship wishes not to be found out, 
 and she sha'n't be — by a bishop. I own I don't 
 understand her ladyship's idea." 
 
 " I do," said Bob. " Suppose some one said you 
 couldn't do something, Geordie, a hundred miles 
 an hour for instance." 
 
 Geordie shook his head. 
 
 "I'd show 'em!" 
 
 " And that you wouldn't after you said you 
 would." 
 
 " I'd show 'em," repeated Geordie. 
 
304 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "And that you shouldn't?" 
 
 " Shouldn't be 'damned, beggin' your pardon, 
 Mr. Robert. I'd show 'em!" 
 
 " That's my cousin's idea," said Bob. 
 
 " And a dashed good idea, too," said Geordie. 
 " I hate interferin' folks worse than policemen. 
 I'd tell her ladyship about this here bishop. And 
 Lord Bradstock was with him, sir." 
 
 " The devil ! " said Bob, and he ran to Penelope 
 bawling. 
 
 " I say, Pen, you'll have to go," he roared, burst- 
 ing into the room where Pen was lamenting over 
 her many griefs. " The bishop is after you. 
 Geordie's seen him and Bradstock, too. And I 
 feel quite certain that all of 'em will be at Spilsbor- 
 ough now." 
 
 " I won't go," sniffed Pen. 
 
 " Oh, but you must," said Bob. " You can't be 
 caught here now by the whole lot." 
 
 " I don't seem to care," said Penelope. 
 
 " Oh, what rot ! " cried Bob. " You won't break 
 down now, Pen, just in the middle of the game. 
 I mean in the middle of your idea. Just think how 
 they'll crow over you and the baby." 
 
 That roused Penelope. 
 
 "They — they sha'n't!" 
 
 " Well, they will, unless you've got the one you 
 
LADY PENELOPE 305 
 
 are married to here," said Bob. " Or are you going 
 to tell me who it is? " 
 
 Pen snuffled sadly. 
 
 " How can I when we've q-quarrelled ? " she de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Then we'll start at once," said. Bob. " I'll tell 
 Miss Mackarness and Tim and all of 'em, and we'll 
 get your car and mine and we^U go somewhere 
 else." 
 
 " But where? " asked Pen. 
 
 " What rot! " said Bob. " You've got heaps of 
 houses; any of 'em that are deserted. Upwell 
 Castle will do." 
 
 " So it will," said Penelope, helplessly. " But 
 we can't go to-day. Bob. Baby is always asleep 
 at this hour. Can't it be to-morrow ? " 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " It's very dangerous, with the bishop on our 
 track," he said ; " it's very dangerous. He's very 
 determined, except in motor-cars. In motor-cars, 
 going fast, he's not at all determined. But out 
 of 'em he's a terror. I'd go to-day." 
 
 " No, no, to-morrow," said Penelope, weeping. 
 
 And Bob went away. 
 
 " I wish Baker was here," he said. " Baker is 
 quite as determined as the bishop, and his advice 
 would be very valuable. I wish I knew how to 
 
3o6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 treat Gor'don. I'm afraid he'll be angry. If he's 
 angry, he may keep my money. Well, I don't 
 care." 
 
 He told Miss Mackarness to pack up, and Miss 
 Mackarness said she would. Miss Mackarness re- 
 marked that the world was not what she had imag- 
 ined it when she was young. It had in fact come 
 to an end. She said she was not surprised at any- 
 thing and never would be again. She said she had 
 never been in a motor-car, but wanted to be in one, 
 because death seemed quick and easy in a motor- 
 car. She also said that if she escaped, and Lady 
 Penelope was killed, she knew of a good opening 
 in a lunatic asylum for a woman without nerves, 
 who could not be surprised, and had been accus- 
 tomed to the ways of the highest society. 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes; we'll be ready," said Miss Mack- 
 arness. And Bob went away to instruct Geordie 
 and Timothy Bunting, and he spent the whole after- 
 noon, covered with dirty oil, dancing about the two 
 motor-cars, while Geordie put them into first-class 
 trim. 
 
 " We ain't going to be run to ground by a 
 bishop," said Bob. 
 
 "Not much we ain't, sir," said Tim. "I'd 
 sooner go in one of these machines, so I would." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever said as much, 
 
LADY PENELOPE 307 
 
 and Geordie paid him a compliment from under 
 the car. 
 
 " That's the first sensible remark I've ever heard 
 you make, Tim," said the concealed chauffeur. 
 
 " Thank you," said Timothy. " I always said 
 you were a good chap, Geordie, even if you was 
 wrapped up in muck and grease." And an idea 
 came to Bob. 
 
 " I know what I'll do about Gordon," he said. 
 " I'll write something about this now so's to show 
 it him afterward." 
 
 He wrote: 
 
 " Pen is very sad. I fear she has quarrelled with 
 Gordon. I'm sure she has married Gordon. I wish 
 she would let me send to him to come, but she has 
 sworn me not to. I think the baby is very like 
 Gordon. It is clever like him, only, being younger, 
 not so clever. I don't mind if it is Gordon. Gor- 
 don has been very kind to me, knowing how poor 
 the family is. I wish I was as clever as he is." 
 
 He read it over carefully. 
 
 " He's more jealous of Rivaulx than any one. 
 I'll put something in about him." 
 
 He added: 
 
 " I think Rivaulx an ass because of balloons." 
 
 " That will please Gordon," said Bob, as he 
 stowed his notes-book away. " But I 'do wish I 
 
3o8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 knew who it is. Women are very fond of secrets. 
 They seem to hke babies and secrets best. Pen 
 likes both together, and it's very confusing to any 
 one." 
 
 They started next morning in the two cars for 
 Upwell Castle, taking the whole household. Bob 
 installed an old villager and his wife as caretakers. 
 He had selected them himself on the ground that 
 they seemed the stupidest people in the village. 
 Bob was very clever, if not so clever as Gordon. 
 
 " I think we've spoofed 'em. Pen," said Bob. 
 
 Penelope hugged her baby and wept. 
 
 "Why are you crying?" asked Bob. 
 
 " I don't know," said Penelope. 
 
 " Then don't," said Bob. " It makes me very 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 They devoured space, arid Timothy held on to 
 the car and to Miss Mackarness. Miss Mackarness 
 said it altered her ideas. Tim said it didn't, but 
 then he was very conservative. 
 
 " Now, let 'em all come," said Bob. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 TiTANiA fell on Bradstock's neck when he came 
 back with the bishop. She very nearly fell on the 
 bishop's neck, too, which alarmed him very much 
 indeed, though he had all that confidence with 
 women which marks the celibate clergy, especially 
 when they are beautiful. 
 
 " My dear-r Augustin," said Titania, " I came 
 at once. I felt I had to. I felt I must. There is 
 no sympathy at home for me in my troubles. The 
 duke laughs, laughs in my face, and says Penelope 
 is damn fine sport ! " 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " said the bishop, who was loath to 
 think that dukes could use bad language. " I very 
 much regret to hear it." 
 
 Titania waved her hands at large. 
 
 " But I do not care. I am wrapped up in woe, 
 and in Robert. Where is he? Show me the tele- 
 gram he sent." 
 
 They showed her the telegram. 
 309 
 
3IO LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Not black ! Oh, Augustin, that might mean 
 anything." 
 
 " So it might. What did I say, bishop? " asked 
 Augustin. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the bishop. " I do not be- 
 heve it is even dark. This is all waste of time. 
 Time cannot now be wasted. This scandal grows. 
 Ridley tells me all these unfortunate gentlemen, 
 but Lord Bramber and Mr. Carew, are in the town. 
 I have had telegrams from both of those asking 
 for information, most excited telegrams. Mr. 
 Carew says he is delirious with fever, and I be- 
 lieve him. Lord Bramber says his father is deliri- 
 ous, which I much regret. I think the son is also 
 delirious, though he does not say he is. He im- 
 plores me to remember that he is entitled to know 
 first where Penelope is, as he is her husband. This 
 is the telegram." 
 
 Augustin and Titania read it. 
 
 " If we could only believe it," said Titania. 
 
 " We cannot," said the bishop. " Ridley declares 
 they all say the same. They also say the infant is 
 an adopted one. I do not remember, in the course 
 of all that wide experience which comes to a country 
 clergyman in a place like Ray Pogis, any situation 
 equal to this. As a bishop with a wider experience, 
 I have seen nothing so absurd even in the conduct 
 
LADY PENELOPE 31 » 
 
 of my clergy, who are indeed hard to beat in stu- 
 pidity. I regret we did not go on to Waynfleet and 
 Spilsby, Bradstock." 
 
 " So do I," said Bradstock, eyeing Titania. 
 
 " We will go tc^morrow," said the bishop. " I 
 have an intuition that to-morrow we shall find her. 
 I feel sure of it." 
 
 " I will come with you," said Titania. " I must! 
 I must! I cannot help fearing, Augustin, that the 
 very worst may have happened. I have now no 
 confidence whatever in dear, misguided Penelope's 
 morals. I do not feel sure that the child is not 
 black, or that it is adopted ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Augustin. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " echoed the bishop. 
 
 " I haven't," affirmed Titania, dreadfully. " No 
 such thing has happened in our family since the 
 time of Charles the Second, which was lamentable 
 but natural, and has Jong since been forgiven. I 
 mistrust the general attitude of all these men, 
 bishop. I mistrust it ! " 
 
 " Certainly they seem in great distress," said the 
 bishop. 
 
 Titania rose and looked awful. 
 
 " Only upon one supposition can I account for 
 it, bishop. This is their remorse. They are re- 
 morseful. They have treated her badly, and she 
 
312 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 has fled from them in her shame and will not see 
 them!" 
 
 " Ha ! " said the bishop, " there is something in 
 that!" 
 
 "A great deal in it," boomed Titania, in her 
 deepest tone of tragedy. " It explains everything." 
 
 But Bradstock said: 
 
 " Infernal nonsense, Titania ! Bishop, I am sur- 
 prised at you. They can't all be remorseful." 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Titania; "why not, 
 Augustin ? " 
 
 " Of course not," interjected the bishop, hastily. 
 
 "Why not, I ask?" repeated the duchess. 
 
 " Oh, well, you know," said Bradstock, " when 
 you come to think of it, wouldn't one be enough 
 to be remorseful for having behaved like a scoun- 
 drel?" 
 
 The duchess collapsed. 
 
 "Dear me! so it would," she said, weakly. 
 " Now I come to think of it, one would be sufficient. 
 Nothing is explained or can be explained till we 
 find Penelope." 
 
 The same feeling of desperation inspired the 
 lovers in the various hotels. Their hopeless pas- 
 sion grew upon them. The sense of mystery deep- 
 ened.. They were sorry for Penelope, for the others, 
 for themselves. What did she mean by it? They 
 
LADY PENELOPE 313 
 
 were all agreed now about the adoption theory, 
 though they stuck to it manfully that they were 
 married to her. Each one believed the infant was 
 adopted, while he nobly claimed it as his own. 
 They were really noble creatures, and showed them- 
 selves worthy of a better fate. A peculiar feeling 
 of sympathy grew up among them, as it does among 
 the unfortunate who are yet strong enough not to 
 be overwhelmed. They spoke to each other again. 
 Goby took De Vere's arm and walked about with 
 him. 
 
 " I wish I could tell you all the truth, old chap," 
 sighed Goby. 
 
 " Ah, so do I," said the poet. " A great passion 
 is a wonderful thing, Goby." 
 
 " So it is, old chap," said Goby. " Do you re- 
 member the happy days we spent in your home 
 when we read Browning and Shelley together, and 
 you explained your poems to me?" 
 
 Austin de Vere sighed. 
 
 " Ah, they were happy days, when my nose peeled 
 on the water and my hands were blistered by row- 
 mg. 
 
 "Do you remember the bulldog?" asked Goby. 
 
 " Ah, and the terrier he bit ! " 
 
 "And the howling retriever?" 
 
 " And the bald, bronchitic Borzois," said Dfe 
 
314 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 Vere, with enthusiasm'. " I bought them all of Bob 
 because she loved him." 
 
 " I didn't like you then, Austin, old chap," said 
 Goby. 
 
 Austin gripped his arm. 
 
 " Plantagenet, we will be friends always. Now 
 I can confess that I loathed you. I told Bradstock 
 so. I said you were an ass." 
 
 " So I am," said poor Goby. " I admit now I 
 can't understand Browning." 
 
 Austin looked about himi. 
 
 " My dear chap, no more do' I," he said, in an 
 alarmed whisper. " He's a much overrated man." 
 
 " I never overrated him' myself," said Goby, 
 sagely. " Look here, Austin. You know, of course, 
 that I'm married to Penelope?" 
 
 " Of course," said Austin. " And you know 
 that I am ? " 
 
 " We'll quarrel about nothing now. To-morrow 
 we'll look for her. Ridley, the bishop's butler, told 
 me Bradstock and the bishop were going to Spilsby 
 to-morrow. I gave him a sovereign." 
 
 " So did I," said Austin. " Let's go in to din- 
 ner. I'm glad we are friends, Plantagenet." 
 
 " So ami I, old chap," said Goby. 
 
 At a near table to them were Rivaulx and Gor- 
 don. Farther off Plant was with Carteret Williams. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 315 
 
 Plant regretted that Bramber wasn't there. Will- 
 iams sighed for the artistic company of the delirious 
 Carew. Not one look of envy or hatred or malice 
 passed between any of them. 
 
 " Marquis," said Gordon, gloomily, " will you 
 come to-morrow with me to find my — I mean, 
 Penelope? " 
 
 " I will, my dear Gordon," replied the marquis. 
 " To Spilsby." 
 
 " How did you know ? " 
 
 " Ridley, the bishop's man, said it." 
 
 " He told me, too. I gave him five pounds," 
 said Gordon. 
 
 " I gave him four." 
 
 " I'll bet he's told 'em all," said Gordon. " I 
 say, marquis, those were jolly, happy days before 
 this misery came on, when you and I dined to- 
 gether." 
 
 "And went up in balloons," said the marquis. 
 
 Gordon shook his head. 
 
 " Well, yes, even the balloons. Do you know, 
 marquis, I hated you then. I don't now. I think 
 you a real good chap." 
 
 The marquis held out his hand, and Gordon 
 shook it. 
 
 " Gordon, I used to despise you. It was a great 
 trial to dine with you. I'm glad I did it now. I'm 
 
3i6 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 a wiser, better man for the trials. I see that Jews 
 can be noble by nature just as they can be barons 
 by creation. I finally absolve Dreyfus. I almost 
 love you now ! " 
 
 " Good old marquis," said Gordon. " When' we 
 get up to town, I'll put you on the betht thing in 
 the market. I will, so help me!" 
 
 Carteret Williams and Plant got on well together. 
 They talked first of Bramber and Carew. 
 
 " Carew's all right," said Williams; "all right 
 for an artist. I was in the Ashanti war with an 
 artist once. I put his head in a bucket of water! " 
 
 "Why?" asked Plant. 
 
 " Because he was too drunk to draw," said Will- 
 iams. " He hated me when he got sober, and cari- 
 catured me. I never liked artists afterward. But 
 when Penelope put me into harness with Carew, 
 I found there was good stuff in him. He could 
 work. He talked awful rot, but there was some- 
 thing at the back of it. I had to own it. How 
 did you get on with Bramber? " 
 
 " I thought him a damn fool," said Plant. " But 
 I found out he wasn't. There's stuff in Bramber. 
 My — I mean, Penelope knew that. I say, as he 
 isn't here, poor chap, will you come to Spilsby with 
 me to-morrow ? " 
 
 Williams started. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 3i7 
 
 " How did you come to think of Spilsby ? " he 
 asked, suspiciously. 
 
 " The bishop's butler told me. I gave him five 
 pounds," said Plant. 
 
 " I gave him two," said Williams. " Yes, I'll 
 go with you, as Carew isn't here. I like Carew 
 now. Poor Carew ! " 
 
 " And I like Bramber, poor chap," said Plant. 
 " And now I'll go and shake hands with the mar- 
 quis, who wanted to kill me last time I was here." 
 
 " I wish I'd seen that," said Williams, simply. 
 " I like seeing fights ! " 
 
 They spent a happy evening together and talked 
 of Bob. Austin was great upon Bob. And so was 
 Gordon. Austin told them all about the dogs. 
 Goby spoke about the spavined pony he had bought. 
 Gordon told them how Bob had borrowed a hun- 
 dred pounds of him' to be put into something. 
 
 " I owe him fifty thousand pounds, at least," 
 said Gordon. " The boy is a financier. I wish I 
 had a boy like Bob." 
 
 And just then Carew walked into the room. He 
 looked ill, but was as handsome as paint. Williams 
 jumped to his feet. 
 
 " Oh, Jimmy, I heard you were delirious," he 
 said, anxiously. 
 
 " I was," said Jimmy, " very delirious, extraor- 
 
3i8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 dinarily so. I'm not sure that I'm not delirious 
 now " 
 
 He looked around the room anxiously, and drew 
 Williams into a corner. 
 
 " Do you know anything about delirium ? " he 
 asked, anxiously. 
 
 " A lot about delirium tremens," said Williams. 
 " Most of the artists I've been with in Africa had 
 it. They said it was malaria. But have you been 
 drinking ? " 
 
 Carew shook his head. 
 
 " Not much, but I see the room is full of 'em ! " 
 
 "Full of what?" 
 
 " Things, visions, phantasms ! " said Jimmy, 
 creepily. Williams looked around in alarm. 
 
 " You don't say so ' " 
 
 "Yes," said Jimmy. "This influenza is awful! 
 I could swear I see the marquis and Gordon and 
 that ass Goby and De Vere ! " 
 
 " Pull yourself together," said Williams. 
 "They're here all right!" 
 
 " Are they real ? " asked Jimmy. " They're not 
 delusions ? " 
 
 "Devil a bit!" said Williams. 
 
 " Oh," said Jimmy, " then I think I'll have some 
 brandy. What are they doing here ? " 
 
 " What are we doing here ? " asked Williams. 
 
JIMMY CAREW, A. R. A. 
 He was the best looking of the whole " horde ' 
 
LADY PENELOPE 319 
 
 " We're mad ! Oh, but, Jimmy, I'm dashed glad 
 to see you," said Williams, with a lurid string of 
 emphatic war expressions. " Those were happy 
 days when I learnt about art with you, and you 
 learnt about life with me ! " 
 
 " They were," said Jimmy. " But now I'm al- 
 most sick of art." 
 
 Williams implored him not to say soi. 
 
 " Think of Rembrandt and Velasquez arid Whis- 
 tler!" 
 
 " I can't think of them. I think of Penelope ! " 
 
 " Try to think of Monet and Manet," said Will- 
 iams. " They'll do you good." 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure," sighed Jimmy. " I'll 
 try to." 
 
 They talked till two in the morning, and the 
 only man missing was Bramber. 
 
 " Perhaps he's chucked it," said Williams. " The 
 last time I saw him he looked sick enough to chuck 
 anything. But I suppose the old earl is so rocky 
 he can't get away." 
 
 " I hate earls," said Jimmy, jealously. He added 
 with extraordinary irrelevance, " But I'm glad she 
 adopted him." 
 
 No doubt he referred to the infant. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 While Pen and Bob and the baby were going 
 as fast as they could toward Upwell Castle, Pen 
 wept at intervals and hugged the child that all the 
 " horde " were glad she had adopted. 
 
 " My only darling," said Pen, convulsively. 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " I say, Pen, I really don't understand you, you 
 know! I say, this is rot ! You mustn't cry; I can't 
 stand it. And you keep on saying it's your only 
 one in a very silly way. You irritate me very much, 
 Pen!" 
 
 " Why, Bob ? " asked the desolate creature at 
 his side. 
 
 " You could stop all this if you wanted to! " 
 
 " Not now," said Pen, " since we've quarrelled ! " 
 ' " Rot ! " said Bob. " You tell me who it is and 
 I'll bring him along. But I'm glad it isn't Timothy, 
 you know." 
 
 Timothy was now with Geordie in the other car. 
 
 " I can't tell you," said Pen. 
 320 
 
LADY PENELOPE 321 
 
 " Then don't snivel, please," said Bob, crossly, 
 " or I shall drive into something and kill the baby." 
 
 "Oh!" said Pen, "oh, please don't!" 
 
 " I think it's very hard lines," said Bob, " espe- 
 cially as Geordie and Tim know, and Miss Mackar- 
 ness. If they know, I ought to." 
 
 " I had to tell them, Bob. Besides, they knew 
 him," said the incautious Pen. 
 
 Bob's eyebrows lifted, and he drove rather fast 
 down the next straight bit of road. 
 
 " I say," he said to himself, " I ought to make 
 something of that." 
 
 He thought very hard and did not speak for a 
 mile. He thought all the more. 
 
 " Tim knows 'em all, of course. And Geordie 
 may, though I remember his saying he didn't. 
 But who does Miss Mackarness know? If I can 
 spot that, I can spot the winner." 
 
 He went back to the time of Pen's youth, which 
 he only knew by hearsay, as he wasn't much more 
 than bom then, and went through the list one by 
 one. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said, suddenly, and Penelope 
 started. 
 
 " Yes, Bob." 
 
 "No," said Bob, thoughtfully; "no, I'm not 
 sure." 
 
322 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " What aren't you sure of, dear ? " 
 
 " Him," said Bob, and Penelope sighed. 
 
 After another mile's silence. Bob spoke again. 
 
 "By Jove!" 
 
 " You said that before," cried Pen, irritably. 
 He turned his eyes upon her, and she saw them full 
 of strange intelligence. 
 
 " Oh, what is it ? " she asked, in alarm. 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 " You've told me who it is," he said. 
 
 " I haven't." 
 
 " You have," said Bob. " Pen, you're a wonder! 
 I say, are all girls like you ? " 
 
 Penelope said she didn't know, and demanded 
 his meaning. 
 
 " If they are, they're interesting but trying," 
 said Bob. " You couldn't have made more fuss 
 about it if it had been Bunting. Pen, you are a 
 wonder. Well, I don't mind; I like him well 
 enough. He's all right. I hope Bill will like him." 
 
 " You are an annoying, irritating boy," said Pen, 
 crossly. " And you know nothing." 
 
 " Bar him' and Miss Mackarness and Timothy 
 and Smith, I'm the only one that does," said Bob, 
 drily. " I know you, Pen. You were ashamed of 
 him, after all you used to say. All right, don't get 
 angry. I'm all right. I'll keep it dark till you say 
 
LADY PENELOPE 323 
 
 pull up the blinds. It's not my business. But I'm 
 glad I know. For granny doesn't, and no one has 
 .guessed, not even Baker. And he's had great ex- 
 perience with girls in all parts of the world, just as 
 he has had with dogs." 
 
 Pen wept. 
 
 " You are saying all this to worry me. How can 
 you know ? " she cried. 
 
 " I'll tell you some day," said Bob. " But be- 
 cause you haven't told me yourself, and have made 
 me find out, I won't tell you who it is till I want 
 to. But one thing I'll say, I don't think your 
 brother Bill really likes him." 
 
 He whistled and let the car out till she fairly 
 hummed. Pen was exceedingly cross, and hugged 
 the baby, hoping that they would both be killed at 
 once. 
 
 " I don't know what's going to happen," she 
 said. " I've done my best, and nothing but trouble 
 comes of it. If I had to begin again, I don't think 
 I'd try to reform anything. I — I hate reform ! " 
 
 In the meantime Miss Mackarness's ideas got 
 sadly altered. She did not mind dying at first, but 
 when Bob really went fast, it seemed to her that 
 she loved life better than she thought. 
 
 " If I am to die," she said, " I would rather die 
 in my bed, much rather. I want peace, and my dear 
 
324 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 lady gives me none. This youngf wretch is no bet- 
 ter than a murderer. He laughs. I can't laugh. 
 I can't even speak. The wind stops my screaming. 
 I want to get out and die quietly." 
 
 They pulled up close to a village to let a wagon 
 loaded with long timbers get into a side road. Miss 
 Mackarness seized her chance, and, opening the 
 door, jumped to the ground. 
 
 " If you please, my lady, I'm going no farther. 
 I will come on later in a cart." 
 
 Penelope remonstrated with her. Bob was urgent 
 and impatient. 
 
 " We may be caught any minute," he said. 
 " Pen, let her come on in a cart." 
 
 " If you prefer it," said Penelope. 
 
 " My lady, I much prefer it," said the house- 
 keeper. 
 
 Bob let the car go, and Geordie, coming^ on be- 
 hind, pulled up to interview Miss Mackarness. 
 
 " Sooner than go in one a mile farther," she said, 
 firmly, " I would lie down and die." 
 
 " That's silly, ma'am," said Geordie. 
 
 " I would rather live silly than die wise," replied 
 Miss Mackarness. " I may be used to much and 
 past surprises, but I can't stomach these cars." 
 
 They left her in the road. And now they drove 
 fast, for Bob set the pace, and made it a rapid one. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 325 
 
 " I say, Geordie," said Timothy, about twenty 
 miles farther on, " don't you think you could go 
 slower? " 
 
 "How can I, with the other car ahead, man?" 
 demanded Geordie. 
 
 " Well, Lfeels queer inside," said poor Timothy. 
 " I'd rather ride a bucking man-eater than go an- 
 other yard. Set me down ! " 
 
 " Not me," said Geordie. " Be a man, Tim ! " 
 
 "I won't," said Tim. "Set me down. I'll 
 walk." 
 
 " Or come on in a cart," sneered Geordie. 
 " Why, Mary here don't mind, do you, Mary ? " 
 
 Mary did mind, but she adored Geordie, and said 
 she didn't. She preferred to die with Geordie than 
 to ride with Miss Mackarness in a cart. 
 
 " I don't care," said Tim ; " if Mary wants to 
 die in a blazin' fiery mass of petrol under a wreck, 
 I don't. Let me down." 
 
 And Geordie let him down. 
 
 " A mad bull sooner," said Tim. " And, though 
 I 'ates walkin', bein' a groom, I'd rather walk to 
 hell than motor into paradise." 
 
 But peace was established in the cars by now. 
 Geordie and Mary sat side by side, and whenever 
 the pace was hot, she grabbed him so tightly that 
 he remonstrated. 
 
326 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " My dear, I'd rather you hugged me when we 
 go slow," he said at last. 
 
 " Lor', Mr. Smith, I wasn't huggin' you," re- 
 monstrated the blushing Mary. 
 
 " To an outsider it would appear so," said 
 Geordie. " When a young lady puts her arms 
 around a man's neck, it looks like huggin'. Mind 
 I don't say I object, but I might run into the 
 hedge." 
 
 " What a very amusin' gentleman you are," said 
 Mary. " I've a very small opinion of Mr. Bunting 
 except upon an 'orse. I'm surprised he preferred 
 to walk." 
 
 " I'm not," said Geordie. " I expected it, and 
 if we went really fast, you'd want to walk." 
 
 " Never," said Mary. " I love goin' fast. There's 
 great po'try in a motor-car, Mr. Smith." 
 
 " Poetry, well, maybe," said Geordie. " To my 
 mind, there's more machinery and oil. I wonder 
 what the next thing will be with my lady, Mary." 
 
 " Ah," said Mary, " that's more than I can say. 
 She's very sweet and kind, but I've give up tr3an' 
 to understand 'er. And such an 'usband, too. If 
 I 'ad an 'usband, I'd like to show 'im off, if I was 
 proud of 'im, and I would." 
 
 "Would you be?" asked Geordie. 
 
 " I 'ope so," said Mary. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 327 
 
 " I guess you'd expect him to do what you 
 wanted, like my lady," said Geordie. 
 
 " Oh, no, never," said Mary. " I'd do hexactly 
 as I was told by 'im I loved. I don't believe in a 
 woman 'angin' on a man and tellin' 'im to do this 
 or that!" 
 
 And just then a mighty fine stretch of road 
 opened before them', and Bob, half a mile in front, 
 turned his car loose at the top speed. Geordie put 
 his on the third, and Mary squealed. 
 
 " Hush your row, my dear," said Geordie. 
 " Why, bless me, what's the matter with the girl ! " 
 
 She had him tight by the neck. 
 
 " Oh, I'm frightened, Mr. Smith. Don't go so 
 fast," she screamed. 
 
 " Lemme go," gasped Geordie, whom' she was 
 nearly strangling. " Lemme go, girl ! " 
 
 "Never, never!" said Mary, settling on him 
 tighter still. "Stop, stop!" 
 
 " I won't," said Geordie. " D'ye think I'll let 
 that young un get away from me? " 
 
 " You must," screamed Mary, " or I'll get out." 
 
 " Then get out," said Geordie, rudely. 
 
 " Oh, you cruel, cruel Mr. Smith ! " wailed Mary. 
 " Let me down before I'm killed." 
 
 Geordie wrenched himself free. 
 
 "D'ye mean it?" he asked. 
 
328 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Yes, you brute ! " said Mary, " I does mean it." 
 
 He put her down there and then. 
 
 " You're no gentleman," said Mary. 
 
 " I never said I was," retorted Geordie, with his 
 eyes on the vanishing Bob. 
 
 " And I hate you, you coward," sobbed Mary. 
 
 " There's a village a mile up the road," said 
 Geordie. And he left her, disappearing in a whirl- 
 wind. 
 
 " Oh, I'm a sad, des'Iate, disappinted, jilted 
 woman, with thin shoes and three and tuppence 
 in my pocket," said Mary. " And I don't know 
 where I am ! " 
 
 She sat on a pile of road metal and cried bitterly. 
 She took it much harder than the bishop did in a 
 similar situation. 
 
 " Well, it can't be helped," said Geordie, " and 
 I don't know that I'm sorry. She'd have proposed 
 if I'd kept her at the second speed, I know that; 
 so perhaps I'm well out of it." 
 
 He whirled after Bob and his lady, and soon 
 caught them up. 
 
 There was peace on that car, too, for Bob hadn't 
 been able to keep his discovery to himself. 
 
 "Yes, you're right, Bob," sighed Penelope. 
 "But what could I do after what I'd said? And 
 what can I do now? " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 329 
 
 " Cheer up! " said Bob. " I'll fix it for you some- 
 how. Do you know, Pen, I begin to think that 
 after all women aren't as difficult to understand as 
 Baker says." 
 
 They came to Upwell in the early afternoon, and 
 were ignorant that the world was on their track. 
 Bob sent, a telegram to " Mr. Bramwell " as soon 
 as they got there. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 The bishop was excited. There is no doubt 
 about it. Nor is it any wonder, for the sporting 
 element exists even on the episcopal bench, and the 
 hunting of Penelope was peculiar and choice sport. 
 The clergy of his diocese were moderately tame, 
 and when he pointed his episcopal gtm at them, 
 they said they would come down, just as the cele- 
 brated squirrel did when Colonel Crockett raised 
 his weapon. Not for a long time had he felt so 
 pleased with himself. He was quite certain that 
 Penelope was to be run to earth in the neighbour- 
 hood of Spilsby, and, when he had found her, he 
 proposed to speak to her like a father. 
 
 " I shall certainly suggest a religious ceremony 
 in the cathedral," he said, blandly. "Oh, yes, I 
 shall insist on it." 
 
 " You'll do what ? " asked Bradstock, who was 
 with him and the duchess in the early train to 
 Spilsby. "You'lldo what?" 
 
 The bishop rubbed his hands. 
 330 
 
LADY PENELOPE 33 1 
 
 " As the one who christened her, I shall insist 
 on a religious ceremony," he replied. 
 
 "Will you?" asked Bradstock. 
 
 " To be sure I shall," said the bishop. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of Mrs. Partington ? " asked 
 Bradstock, " or of King Canute, or of any other 
 celebrated character in history or fiction whose in- 
 sistence did not come off?" 
 
 " I scarcely understand you, Bradstock," said the 
 bishop, with dignity. " I can hardly imagine that 
 you mean to hint, not altogether obscurely, that 
 Lady Penelope will treat any suggestion of mine 
 with disrespect." 
 
 Bradstock intimated that that was what he did 
 mean, and Titania, who had got up too early and 
 felt like it, said that she expected nothing from 
 Penelope now but the worst. 
 
 " I don't know why I am here, or why I am going 
 there," she said. " I cannot imagine why any of 
 us are doing anything but hiding our disgraced 
 heads in the remoter parts of the country, while 
 Penelope flaunts a black, adopted, illegitimate child 
 in some peculiar part of Lincolnshire, while 'she is 
 being chased on motor-cars by remorseful scoun- 
 drels, of whom I saw about a dozen as we left Spils- 
 borough. Little did I think that I should be run- 
 ning after her with Augustin and you, bishop, while 
 
332 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 the duke stays at Goring saying she is sport, and 
 Robert is with her when he ought to be at home 
 with Mr. Guthrie learning to spell. And as a result 
 of Penelope's being away like this, that disgraceful 
 Chloe Cadwallader, of whom I shall always have 
 the lowest opinion, is living in her house in Picca- 
 dilly, and I dare say spending her money right and 
 left. The marchioness said she knew, on the high- 
 est authority, that this was so. The marchioness 
 always goes on the principle of believing the worst, 
 though, of course, she hopes the best. I hope the 
 best for Penelope, but I'm sure the worst is before 
 us. I'm sure of it." 
 
 The bishop asked her to cheer up, and Augustin 
 stroked her hand to calm her. But nothing calmed 
 or cheered her. 
 
 " I am calm," she said. " I am even peaceful. 
 What can be worse than the worst ? I am cheerful, 
 for I believe there is a better world than this, in 
 which even a duchess may find some kind of rest 
 on the highest authority. I shall be glad to go 
 there, and leave you all." 
 
 " Don't say so," said Augustin. 
 
 " I do say so," said the duchess. " I say it firmly 
 and with faith. You don't dare to deny there is 
 a better world than this, Augustin ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, in the presence of the bishop," 
 
LADY PENELOPE 333 
 
 replied Augustin. " Though, in looking out of the 
 windows, I should not be surprised to learn that 
 there is a more exciting spot than Spilsby." 
 
 For they had arrived. 
 
 " I will make incjuiries," said the bishop, " while 
 you look after the duchess in the waiting-room. 
 I see that my wishes have been attended to. I tele^ 
 graphed for a carriage to be in attaidance, and it 
 is in attendance. I will speak with the driver." 
 
 He spoke to the driver, who was much intimi- 
 dated by the apron and the gaiters of the clerical 
 dignitary. 
 
 " This is the carriage I ordered, I think," said 
 the bishop. " I want to drive to — to Lady Penel- 
 ope Brading's house. Do you know it? " 
 
 " No, sir," said the driver. " I never heard- owt 
 of it, sir." 
 
 "Dear me, dear me! " said the bishop. "Well, 
 well! But that is easily explicable, my good man, 
 for my young friend is in the peculiar position 
 of having several names. This is rare; yes, rare 
 I admit, but not altogether so very rare. Can you 
 tell me if there is any one lately come to this neigh- 
 bourhood known, let us say, as Mrs. — Mrs. Plant, 
 for instance? " 
 
 " No, sir, there be not as I knows," said the 
 driver. 
 
334 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "Or Mrs. Gordon, shall I say?" 
 
 The driver scratched his head. 
 
 " I never heard of her," he replied. 
 
 " How remarkable," said the bishop, smiling. 
 " But I am not surprised. Indeed, in this last case 
 I am almost gratified, though I withhold my reasons 
 for saying so. Are you then acquainted with any 
 one called De Vere? No; or with a Mrs. Carteret 
 Williams?" 
 
 Light dawned in the driver's face at last. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams ! Ay, sure enif. She do sell 
 sweets and tobacco." 
 
 " Indeed," said the bishop, " indeed, how remark- 
 able! But I don't think she will do. Have you 
 heard of a Mrs. Rivaulx or a Mrs. Goby? Perhaps 
 I surprise you in this part of Lincolnshire, but in 
 London it is not at all uncommon for married ladies 
 to have several names, not at all uncommon." 
 
 " No, sir, I never heard o' none of 'em," re- 
 turned the driver, thinking that this gentleman 
 talked most remarkable " cat-blash." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the bishop, " this new 
 custom is trying. Do you then know a Mrs. Carew 
 or Mrs. Bramber ? " 
 
 Again the man scratched his head and shook it. 
 What did this strange person in gaiters mean? 
 
LADY PENELOPE 335 
 
 " Oh! ah! " he said at last. " There be a Mrs. 
 Bramwell at the Moat House." 
 
 " Indeed," said the bishop. " Perhaps that may 
 be the lady. At the Moat House! Do you know 
 Mr. Bramwell?" 
 
 " I've seen un," said the driver. 
 
 "What is he like?" asked the bishop. "Is he 
 fair or dark, or tall or short ? " 
 
 " He's fairish to dark and betwixt and between," 
 said the driver, wishing to be accurate, " and mostly 
 goes in big spectacles in his engine." 
 
 "Ha!" said the bishop, "we are on the scent! 
 And what is Mrs. Bramwell like? " 
 
 " She do mostly go in the engine with specs 
 on, too, sir. But my wife do say she be a very 
 fine woman." 
 
 The bishop nodded. 
 
 " I think you may drive us to the Moat House," 
 he said. " I will bring my friends out." 
 
 He rubbed his hands and congratulated himself 
 on the skill with which he had discovered the ob- 
 ject of his search. 
 
 " I really believe I have found her," he said, when 
 he entered the waiting-room. " I really believe it." 
 
 "No!" said the duchess. 
 
 " Yes," said the bishop. " By a series of skilful 
 questions and the exercise of a little pardonable 
 
336 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 deceit, I have learnt that there is a Mrs. Bramwell 
 here, who is said to be a very fine woman, and goes 
 out in goggles in a motor-car with her husband, 
 who is fairish to dark and tall and short and also 
 wears goggles." 
 
 Augustin nodded. 
 
 " This looks like — something," he said, hope- 
 fully. " Bramwell ! Perhaps really Bramber, Ti- 
 tania." 
 
 " No, no," said Titania. " I expect disaster. I 
 anticipate the Jew or Williams." 
 
 " But Bramwell — the first syllable being Bram," 
 suggested the bishop. 
 
 " I cannot build on Bram," said the duchess. 
 " We are an unfortunate family. Lord Bramber 
 may be an earl at any minute, and she has married 
 a coal-heaver, of course! Let us go at once." 
 
 When they got into the carriage, the bishop told 
 the man to drive to the Moat House. 
 
 " Did you say Moat House? " asked the duchess. 
 
 " I did," replied the bishop. 
 
 " Augustin, do you remember that Penelope's 
 mother loved houses with moats? I think the 
 bishop may be right. I tremble with nervousness." 
 
 She had more reason to tremble in a moment, 
 for a big motor-car shaved them and scared the 
 horse. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 337 
 
 " Perhaps — " she cried. 
 
 " No," said Augustin, " it's Plant and Williams 
 and Carew ! " 
 
 The duchess gasped. And before she could say 
 another word, another car swept by them. 
 
 " Perhaps — " she cried. 
 
 "No," said the bishop; "in spite of goggles, 
 I recognize the marquis and Mr. Gordon and Mr. 
 Austin de Vere. This is very remarkable, and not 
 a little annoying. We shall all descend upon Penel- 
 ope at once, and I fear it will somewhat disturb 
 her. I should have much preferred to see her 
 quietly in order to bring her to a just sense of her 
 peculiar, and our painful, position." 
 
 When they got to the house, they found all the 
 lovers but Bramber assembled at the gates. If it 
 hadn't been for the illness of the Earl of Pulbor- 
 ough, he would have been there, they knew. 
 
 " Oh, which is it? " moaned Titania. " They all 
 said they were married to her, and I know it's none 
 . of 'em." 
 
 The bishop greeted the crowd in the most cour- 
 teous manner. He shook hands with those he 
 knew, and bowed to those he hoped to know. 
 
 " I think, gentleman, that, with your permission, 
 I will go in first and see Lady Penelope before any 
 one else does." 
 
338 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 And while he went up the carriage drive, Titania 
 glared at the lovers. 
 
 " Don't look at 'em like that, Titania," said 
 Augustin. 
 
 " Like what, Augustin ? " 
 
 " Like a Gorgon, Titania," said Augustin. 
 
 " 1 look as I feel," said Titania. " I hate them 
 all. I shall not be able to restrain myself when I 
 see Penelope. I shall shake her. I shall say what 
 I think. No, I won't be wise, Augustin ! I decline 
 to be wise. I am full of bitterness. From her earli- 
 est youth, she has been a thorn. And it is your 
 fault ; you encouraged her in reform, in anarchism. 
 Don't speak to me ! I shall explode ! " 
 
 And Augustin got out just as the bishop rang 
 the door-bell across the moat. Instead of the kind 
 of servant he expected to see, he was greeted by 
 a bent old woman, whose chief glory was her rheu- 
 matism, though her claim on Bob had been her 
 stupidity. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Bramwell at home? " asked the bishop, 
 with a beaming smile. 
 
 " Naw," said the old lady, not beaming in the 
 least. 
 
 " No? Then when will she be back? " 
 
 " I don't know," replied the caretaker. 
 
 " You don't know! Will it be soon?" 
 
LADY PENELOPE 339 
 
 " She never said," snarled the old lady. 
 
 "Did she go early?" 
 
 " Maybe an hour ago, maybe two." 
 
 "Will she be back late?" 
 
 "Eh? I'm 'ard of 'earin'." 
 
 "Will she be back late?" roared the bishop. 
 
 " She' didn't say." 
 
 "What did she say, then?" 
 
 " Nothin' as I knows of." 
 
 " Where did she go, my good woman ? " 
 
 "She didn't say." 
 
 " Dear me, how vexing ! " said the bishop. 
 
 " I'm 'ard of 'earin', I tell ye," said the old dame. 
 
 ."Who went with her?" 
 
 " All of 'em, so I 'card." 
 
 "Who were they?" asked the desperate bishop. 
 
 " All as was 'ere. There ain't one left." 
 
 "Was a boy with her?" 
 
 " To be sure, a young gentleman as fetched me 
 'ere, and give me a shillin'." 
 
 " What was his name ? " 
 
 " 'E didn't say," said the old woman, and the 
 bishop wiped his fevered brow and tried again. 
 
 "Was Mr. Bramwell with her?" 
 
 " I never seed un." 
 
 "How did they go?" 
 
 " In two engines." 
 
340 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " Ha ! " sighed the bishop, " in two motor-cars." 
 
 " Likely." 
 
 " Will they be back to-night? " 
 
 " I 'ope not," said the woman. 
 
 " Why do you hope not ? " asked the wretched 
 bishop. 
 
 " Because of fifteen bob a week, to be sure." 
 
 " Then Mrs. Bramwell has gone, has left ? " 
 
 " Ain't I been sayin' so this last hour ? " asked 
 the exasperated old person. " Me, with rheumatics, 
 standin' on cold stones for hours arglin' that she 
 and all have gone in engines ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the bishop, " she has es- 
 caped ! She has eluded us ! She has kept her word 
 and has fled! This is remarkable; it is annoying. 
 I feel nearer losing my temper than I have done 
 with any one but the dean for the last ten years. 
 I must go back and tell them." 
 
 He went back to the gate. 
 
 " Is it — " they cried. 
 
 " This is her house," said the bishop, who looked 
 rather flushed, " but I have discovered by a series 
 of skilfully devised questions that she is no longer 
 here. Duchess, Lord Bradstock, marquis, and gen- 
 tlemen, she went away this morning in two motor- 
 cars with all her household, leaving behind her no 
 
LADY PENELOPE 34 1 
 
 one but a caretaker who, in my humble opinion, 
 ought to be taken care of in an idiot asylum ! " 
 
 The duchess sighed. 
 
 " Then she has kept her word ! Finding out that 
 we are still pursuing her, she has fled from us. 
 Oh, I think it wicked of her, wicked to all of us. 
 When I get hold of Robert, I shall take steps to 
 show him what I think of him. Do you give it 
 up, bishop? " 
 
 The bishop's eyes flashed with indignation. 
 
 " Never ! " he said. " I propose that we pursue 
 her at once. She cannot have thought we should 
 be here so soon. If we find out which road she 
 took, we may yet overtake her." 
 
 " In what ? " asked Bradstock, with his hand 
 on the ramshackle landau the duchess sat in. " In 
 this conveyance, for instance?" 
 
 The bishop looked at the two big motor-cars, 
 and at their wretched owners. Plant and Rivaulx. 
 
 " Taking my courage in both hands," he said, 
 bravely, " I propose that we lose no time. / will 
 go in this car with the marquis, if he will take me." 
 
 The marquis said through his clenched teeth that 
 he would. 
 
 " Bradstock, you will escort the duchess back to 
 Spilsborough." 
 
 " Certainly not," said the duchess. " I am com- 
 
342 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 ing, too. I must and I will. Whatever the condi- 
 tion of Penelope may now be, it is my duty. I come 
 with you ! " 
 
 " And so do I," said Bradstock. 
 
 They packed themselves in the cars, and moved 
 away from the deserted house of the moat. In the 
 village they soon discovered that " Mrs. Bramwell " 
 had gone northwest by the road to Horncastle, and 
 a moment later the bishop said, " Oh ! " as Rivaulx 
 fairly launched his car into space. Even Bradstock 
 in Plant's car said something, and the duchess, los- 
 ing the repose which stamps all duchesses the mo- 
 ment they become duchesses, uttered a scream. 
 Gordon consoled the bishop, being very niuch 
 pleased to find himself with one, by saying that 
 he had been in a balloon with Rivaulx, and found 
 him careful and very trustworthy. 
 
 " I do not think any one who goes in a balloon," 
 gasped his lordship, " can properly be described by 
 any such terms." 
 
 Williams said he didn't care if he was killed, as 
 soon as Penelope had acknowledged she was mar- 
 ried to him. Gordon, who was desperately scared 
 of Williams, said nothing, but gave the bishop to 
 understand by signs that the war correspondent was 
 mad. Carew, who was still suffering from influ- 
 enza, sat in his corner and wept at intervals. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 343 
 
 In Plant's car the duchess and Goby and De Vere 
 got on admirably. Bradstock sat by Plant and pre- 
 pared to die. The duchess held Captain Goby's 
 hand. De Vere said some poetry before the speed 
 was very great. Afterward he said his prayers, 
 and wished he was at home with his bulldogs. 
 
 "What does anything matter?" he asked, as 
 he clutched Goby's ofifside. 
 
 And all of a sudden Rivaulx's motor pulled up 
 so quickly that the bishop was nearly precipitated 
 upon the road. A scared, oldish woman in respec- 
 table and sub-freak garments had done her best 
 to get run over. Rivaulx swore terrible French 
 oaths, and the bishop, who knew French far better 
 than he dared acknowledge except in a literary con- 
 versation on Rabelais or argot, sympathized with 
 him' in awestruck silence. 
 
 " You accursed old lady ! Why ? " demanded 
 Rivaulx. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said the bishop, and, leaning 
 from the car, he said : " It is all right, my good 
 woman. I hope we have not alarmed you." 
 
 Miss Mackarness said they had. It was very 
 hard to have got out of one car and then to be 
 almost killed by another. Then the car behind 
 came up, and the duchess looked at the lady who 
 
344 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 had given her a little respite. The duchess abso- 
 lutely screamed again. 
 
 "Augustin, it is Miss Mackarness! I remeni'- 
 ber her well ! " 
 
 "Who the deuce is Miss Mackarness?" grum> 
 bled Bradstock. 
 
 But Titania paid no attention to him. Her eyes 
 brightened. She became clever all at once. 
 
 "I remember," she said, "I remember!" 
 
 She called to the stranger in the road. 
 
 " I am so pleased to see you again after such 
 a long time, Miss Mackarness," she said, kindly. 
 " Are you still at Upwell Castle? " 
 
 " I'm going there now, ma'am," said the house- 
 keeper, who didn't recognize her Grace. 
 
 "Are you walking?" asked Titania, kindly. 
 " It is a long way to walk. You don't remember 
 me, I see." 
 
 " No, ma'am," said Miss Mackarness. 
 
 " I am the Duchess of Goring," said Titania. 
 
 " Oh, your Grace ! I beg your Grace's pardon, 
 but, of course, you are," gasped Miss Mackarness. 
 
 " And I am going to Upwell now to see my 
 niece." 
 
 Miss Mackarness gasped again and could not 
 speak. 
 
 " To see Mrs. Bramwell, you know," said Ti- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 345 
 
 tania, sweetly. " Of course, / know all about it, 
 Miss Mackarness." 
 
 " To be sure, your Grace," replied her victim, 
 not knowing what to do or say. 
 
 " Then good-hye," said the duchess. " I hope 
 you will enjoy your walk, Miss Mackarness. It's 
 such pleasant weather for a walk." 
 
 They left the poor woman in the middle of the 
 road, an easy victim to the slowest vehicle in the 
 county. 
 
 " Oh, I've done wrong, I know ! " said Pen's 
 housekeeper. " What shall I do now ? " 
 
 " I said that on purpose," said Titania, viciously. 
 " She has known all along, and ought to have told 
 me. But now we know all about it, Augustin ! " 
 
 "What about 'Mr. Bramwell'?" asked Au- 
 gustin. Goby and De Vere turned pale, and the 
 duchess threw up her hands. 
 
 " I might have asked her ! " she cried. 
 
 " Captain Goby looked at her severely," said 
 Augustin, " and so did De Vere." 
 
 Goby and De Vere denied it. 
 
 " Never mind," said the duchess, " this time she 
 can't escape. We are on the track." 
 
 They passed a man a few miles farther on, and 
 only Augustin noticed him. 
 
 " You are right, Titania ; we are certainly on 
 
346 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 the track. That man was Timothy Bunting," he 
 said. " Pen has been shedding her retainers all 
 along the road. I suspect Bob of furious driving." 
 
 A few miles farther, at the foot of a steep rise, 
 they saw a young and pretty woman weeping on 
 a heap of stones. 
 
 " I wonder if that is another of 'em," said Au- 
 gustin. 
 
 It was Mary, whom Geordie had deposited on the 
 road half-way between two villages. 
 
 "Have two motor-cars gone this way?" asked 
 Bradstock. 
 
 " Yes, sir," sobbed Mary. 
 
 " Why are you crying ? " asked the sympathetic 
 peer. 
 
 " Because Geordie Smith is no gentleman," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " That's Mrs. Bramwell's driver, isn't it ? I 
 know her well," said Bradstock. 
 
 " Yes, it is, and he ain't a gentleman. He drove 
 so fast he frightened me, and I got out." 
 
 " How sad," said Bradstock. " We are going 
 on to Upwell Castle now. Can we help you? " 
 
 " I would rather walk to Australia than get in 
 another one of 'em," said Mary. 
 
 " You are right," said Augustin. " Titania, you 
 are right. In half an hour we shall see Penelope." 
 
LADY PENELOPE 347 
 
 " And I shall see Bob," said Titania, viciously. 
 
 But the bishop felt rather pleased with Bob now. 
 He was in a car driven by Rivaulx. And Rivaulx 
 was desperate. And when Rivaulx was desperate 
 he lacked consideration for others. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 As all antiquarians know, Upwell Castle consists 
 of two wings and a kind of centrepiece joining 
 two civilizations and twoi divergent schools of ar- 
 chitecture. The right wing is Tudor, and ruined; 
 the left is Georgian, and habitable; the centre is 
 nondescript and pseudo-Palladian. It cost a grea.t 
 deal to keep up, and nothing could keep it from 
 falling down. Penelope's mother fell in love with 
 it on first sight, and fell out with her husband about 
 the price. Its value has fallen since then, for 
 landed property is the only stable thing which al- 
 ways falls. There were pictures in it that con- 
 noisseurs gloated over, and some that picture- 
 cleaners had restored till they were as valuable as a 
 Gothic cathedral brought up to date by a resurrected 
 Vandal. There were carvings by Grinling Gib- 
 bons to be seen, and some that were not by Grin- 
 ling Gibbons. There were some rooms decorated 
 by Adams that would have made Adam ill. There 
 was an oak staircase there that a thousand intoxi- 
 
 348 
 
LADY PENELOPE 349 
 
 cated noblemen had fallen down; there was an- 
 other that no sober gentleman could go up. It 
 was ruinous, romantic, and rat-haunted; tapestry- 
 waved in its corridors, ghosts loved its precincts; 
 there was a room' stained with something that the 
 servants said was blood, and that the skeptical 
 averred to be port wine. The only thing against 
 the latter theory was that the dining-room was not 
 stained, though some said it had been so flooded 
 all over that nothing showed. It was a delightful 
 place, and Penelope never stayed there. Miss 
 Mackarness did, but then she was a Scotchwoman, 
 and didn't count. Bob adored it, but then Bob was 
 Bob, and nothing could change him. 
 
 " I'll fix this all up," said Bob, " and make her 
 happy. She's silly. I'll blow the gaff, as Baker 
 says. She's up-stairs now, crying her eyes out, 
 and making the baby bellow." 
 
 He wandered about the grounds, and wondered' 
 where Mary and Bunting and Miss Mackarness 
 were. 
 
 " Silly fools ! " said Bob ; " the idea of being 
 afraid of going in a motor-car. By Jove, I wonder 
 what's become of my man at Spilsborough ! I sup- 
 pose those people in Regent Street think I've stolen 
 the car. What fun!" 
 
 He explored the ruined wing, and ruined it a little 
 
350 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 more, and came out again into the Queen Anne 
 garden. 
 
 " By Jove, I do wish I knew where they all 
 were ! " he said. " I wonder what granny is doing. 
 Is she having fits, and Dr. Lumsden Griff to look 
 after 'em? I think Griff's a soft-soapy ass. He 
 says, ' Well, how are we this morning? ' By Jove, 
 all the rest of 'em will have fits, too. They will 
 be sick. But I'm glad they're out of it. I wonder 
 where Lord Bradstock is. He'll pull my wig when 
 he sees me. And the bishop! Well, he's not a 
 bad old boy. I rather like bishops, but their legs 
 are queer. By Jove, but it's fun having skipped 
 and done them ! If they ever get to Spilsby and find 
 us gone, they'll be mad ! " 
 
 He walked around the comer of the house, arid 
 pmff came a motor-car and made him jump. An- 
 other one followed like a streak of light. Bob went 
 quite pale for a boy with a complexion like an 
 ancient red brick, and made a bolt for the door. 
 He was too late, for Bradstock and the bishop stood 
 in his way. Bob slowed down, put his hands in 
 his pockets and whistled. 
 
 " I say," said Bob, " how did you find this place 
 out?" 
 
 " I own to being surprised and disappointed with 
 
LADY PENELOPE 351 
 
 you, Robert," said the bishop; "very much sur- 
 prised and greatly disappointed." 
 
 Bob wagged his head to and fro. 
 
 " Why, what about ? " he asked. 
 
 " At your not returning, sir," said his lordship. 
 " You treated me and Lord Bradstock, I regret to 
 say, with great disrespect." 
 
 " I'm very sorry," said Bob, " but I couldn't help 
 it. Pen — Oh, Lord! there's granny!" 
 
 The duchess intervened. 
 
 "Robert, where is Penelope?" 
 
 Bob hesitated. 
 
 " Gone to — t-to London for Paris and Mar- 
 seilles and Australia," said Bob, hurriedly. " She 
 said she couldn't wait, but had an appointment there 
 somewhere. And she said I was to say she was 
 sorry if any one called." 
 
 " Robert," said the duchess, severely, " do not 
 keep your eyes fixed upon the distant landscape. 
 Look me in the face. Are you speaking the truth ? " 
 
 Bob wriggled and shuffled. 
 
 "No, I'm not," he said. "It's a beastly lie. 
 But she did say the other day that she would go 
 to the ends of the earth. And that's Australia, 
 ain't it?" 
 
 " Bob," said the bishop, " this is very painful 
 to me. Speak the truth like a man." 
 
352 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "I won't," said Bob; "it isn't my truth. I 
 won't give Pen away to any one." 
 
 His vision cleared, and he saw the lovers ranked 
 behind his grandmother and the bishop. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gordon," he cried, " do come and help 
 me! Would you tell if you were me?" 
 
 " No," said Gordon, " no, of course not." 
 
 " I always liked you," said Bob, " so I won't." 
 
 " I command you," said Titania, looking at Gor- 
 don furiously. 
 
 "It's no good," said Bob, rapidly; "Pen's a 
 great way off, far enough, that is, and I swore I'd 
 never disclose the secret of her whereabouts to any 
 one. At least, if I didn't swear it, I said it, and, 
 if I said it, my lord, and broke my promise, it 
 wouldn't be honourable, would it?" 
 
 " I don't care," began Titania. 
 
 "Would it, my lord?" asked Bob. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said the bishop, " though per- 
 haps in the circumstances, which are very pecul- 
 iar— " 
 
 "Well, I won't," said Bob, "and that's flat. 
 Goby wouldn't, I know, would you, Captain Goby ? " 
 
 But the duchess waved Goby into the background. 
 
 " I mean to have the truth. Shall we listen to 
 your foolish' scruples now? If you won't tell us 
 
LADY PENELOPE 353 
 
 where she is, tell us whom she has married. Is 
 it one of these gentlemen? " 
 
 " I won't give any of 'em away," said Bob. 
 
 " Then you know ? " 
 
 " Of course I know," said Bob. 
 
 " Ah," sighed the duchess, " then she is mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 " She says so," said Bob, " and, if it's true, as 
 I suppose, I know who it is. But Pen, before she 
 went up — before she went, said I wasn't to speak." 
 
 Bradstock smiled. 
 
 " Titania, Penelope is in the house. Let us go 
 in," he said, and he marched up the steps. Bob 
 shook himself free from the duchess and darted 
 indoors before Bradstock. He bolted up-stairs to 
 Penelope, and burst in upon her like a whirlwind. 
 
 " Pen, they're all here, all the gang ! I couldn't 
 keep 'em out ! " 
 
 "Who are here?" asked Pen, in awful dismay. 
 
 " All of 'em, and the bishop and Bradstock and 
 granny ! " 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? " wailed Penelope. 
 
 "I'll tell you," said Bob. "Let's sneak down 
 the back way and steal one of their cars now, and 
 get away ! " 
 
 " No, no," said Penelope, " it wouldn't be dig- 
 
354 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 nified. I must be dignified, Bob, I must be; I will 
 go down and see them." 
 
 " No," said Bob. 
 
 " I will," said Penelope. 
 
 " And tell 'em the truth? " 
 
 Penelope started. 
 
 " I can't, I can't, because we've quarrelled. But 
 I will see them; I must." 
 
 She went red and white and red again, and once 
 more as pale as dawn. She kissed the sleeping, 
 adopted, illegitimate, normal-coloured infant as he 
 sprawled upon an historic bed, and went to the 
 door. 
 
 " Come with me, Bob." 
 
 "I'll hold your hand. Pen. I say, you shake!" 
 
 " Squeeze my hand till you hurt me," said Pen. 
 " Now come! " 
 
 She swept down the big staircase, with Bob in 
 tow, and found herself in the presence of the entire 
 " gang," as Bob had called them'. 
 
 " Penelope ! " said Titania, recoiling. 
 
 " Oh, Pen," said Bradstock, advancing. 
 
 " My dear Lady Penelope," said the bishop, 
 sweetly, " do you recollect that I christened you 
 at the early age of three months ? " 
 
 " No," said Penelope. 
 
LADY PENELOPE 355 
 
 "No!" said the bishop, "no, to be sure, how 
 could you? But I did." 
 
 " It — it was very kind of you," said Penelope. 
 Titania recovered herself and advanced. Gordon 
 and the rest hung about in the distance, looking 
 as wretched as the ruined wing of the castle. 
 
 "Are you married, Penelope?" asked Titania. 
 
 " Yes," said Penelope. 
 
 " Of course she is," said Bob. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Robert," said his grand- 
 mother. " And to whom ? " 
 
 " I won't say," replied Penelope. " I told you 
 I wouldn't, and I won't." 
 
 " I said she wouldn't," cried Bob. 
 
 Titania pointed her hand at the shrinking horde. 
 
 " Every single one of these gentlemien, to say 
 nothing of Lord Bramber, who is with his invalid 
 father at the present moment, came to me and said 
 he was married to you ! Every one of them without 
 an exception ! " 
 
 " I am very much obliged to them," said Pen. 
 " In the circumstances, I think it was noble of 
 them'." 
 
 " Are you alluding to the advertisement in the 
 Times? " asked Titania. " Are you aware that 
 every one now says that you have adopted an in- 
 fant?" 
 
356 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 "What rot!" said Bob. 
 
 " Robert," cried his grandmother, " be silent, I 
 command you. I will not be interrupted by you. 
 Are you aware, Penelope, that it is said all over 
 England and Europe and the blatant United States 
 that you have adopted an infant?" 
 
 Penelope shook her head. 
 
 " It's the first I've heard of it," said Penelope, 
 who was the colour of a rose. 
 
 " Is it true? Do not evade my question," cried 
 Titania. 
 
 " I don't see, granny, what right you have to 
 ask 'em," said the irrepressible Bob. " I sent you 
 a wire to say it wasn't black, and it isn't." 
 
 " Augustin, silence that boy," said Titania. 
 
 But Augustin shook his head. 
 
 " Don't you answer anything. Pen," said Bob. 
 " No one has any right to ask you anything." 
 
 He marched over to Gordon. 
 
 " Don't look so sad, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " I can't help it, my boy," said Gordon. " It's 
 a horrid situation. I don't care whether it's adopted 
 or not. If she'll marry me, I'll have her." 
 
 Bob squeezed his hand. 
 
 " I ain't absolutely sure it isn't you yet," he said. 
 " Pen hasn't told me all, you know. By the way, 
 Mr. Gordon, did that speculation come off? " 
 
LADY PENELOPE 357 
 
 " Not so well as I thought by ten thousand," said 
 Gordon. 
 
 " Oh, I say," said Bob, " but, after all, it doesn't 
 matter. I'll make fifty or sixty thousand do." 
 
 " You're a fine boy," said Gordon. . " But, Bob, 
 I would like to strangle your grandmother." 
 
 " Would you ? " asked Bob, eagerly. " I dare say 
 Pen does, too. Grandmothers and aunts are very 
 trying. At least, I find them so." 
 
 The duchess's voice rose now quite above the 
 limits of social decency, except when any one is 
 playing or singing. 
 
 " I will not be put ofif, Penelope. You will say 
 who it is, and you will be married again by the 
 bishop in his fine Gothic cathedral — " 
 
 " Mr. Dean's cathedral," interjected the bishop. 
 
 " With a proper service and the usual hymns, 
 breathing over Eden, or I will stay here till you 
 do." 
 
 " Steady, Titania," said Bradstock. " If she 
 won't, she won't." 
 
 " But she shall," shrieked Titania. " Gentlemen, 
 which of you is it? I am now entirely desperate; 
 which of you is it ? " 
 
 No one said a word. 
 
 " Marquis, is it you ? " asked the duchess. " You 
 said so before." 
 
35 8 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " How can I say ? " asked poor Rivaulx. " She 
 says no one must." 
 
 " Quite right," said Bradstock. " Who will be- 
 lieve any one, Titania? Let's have lunch and be 
 friendly and stop this. I'm very hungry. Pen. And 
 let's see the baby." 
 
 The duchess shivered. 
 
 " I cannot and will not see it," said Titania. 
 " For by all accounts, it is an adopted illegitimate 
 child. If Penelope will send it back to the person 
 she got it of, and own the truth, I will forgive her 
 and have lunch, for I am very faint." 
 
 " I want to see the baby. Pen," said Augustin, 
 with his hand on Pen's shoulder. " You know. 
 Pen, they still say it's rather dusky." 
 
 Penelope was very indignant. 
 
 "He's not," she cried. "They sha'n't say it 
 any more. Bob, tell that girl up-stairs to bring 
 him down." 
 
 And Bob ran up-stairs like a monkey up a stick. 
 
 " I decline to see it," said Titania. " A baby 
 without a name is a terrible object to me. It is 
 an insult to the bishop and to the Qiurch to bring 
 one into the room. I will retire into the open air 
 and try to breathe again." 
 
 Goby assisted her outside. 
 
 " This is a calamity," said Titania. " It's a cat- 
 
LADY PENELOPE 359 
 
 astrophe. What is the truth, Captain Goby? Are 
 you a liar, too? " 
 
 Goby sobbed. 
 
 "How can I say?" he askeid. "You know I 
 can't." 
 
 He looked out into the park. 
 
 " Here's some one coming- in a motor," he cried. 
 They all ran to the windows. But just then Bob 
 and the nurse came down with the infant, who, 
 though evidently awed by the number of creatures 
 he saw about him, behaved like a gentleman, and 
 not in the least like an adopted child. 
 
 " I congratulate you. Pen," said Bradstock. 
 " The mother must be a devilish pretty woman ! 
 Does she miss it much. Pen? Oh, Pen, what a 
 queer, mad darling you are! I begin to see day- 
 light." 
 
 But nobody else did. Penelope blushed and 
 hugged the baby tenderly, while Bob danced around 
 her in the wildest state of excitement. 
 
 " I say. Captain Goby, come and look at it ! Mr. 
 de Vere ! I say, marquis ! Ain't it a ripper, and as 
 fat as a pup, and hardly a squeal out of it day or 
 night ! Granny dear, won't you look at it ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Titania. " I cannot, cannot bring 
 myself to do so!" 
 
36o LADY PENELOPE 
 
 " You'll soon be jolly sorry, I can tell you," 
 cried the loving grandson. " I'll bet you'll be 
 sorry." 
 
 He ran to Pen. 
 
 " I say. Pen, give the kid to me, or you'll drop 
 it." 
 
 " Drop him ! " exclaimed Penelope. " Oh, Bob, 
 is it likely?" 
 
 " Very likely," said Bob, " if you knew that I 
 sent a telegram to some one just as soon as we got 
 here! " 
 
 Pen flushed scarlet. But not with anger. 
 
 "Oh, Bob!" 
 
 " I did ! You ain't angry? " 
 
 "Oh, Bob!" 
 
 " I don't care," said Bob, as he took the child. 
 " I don't care a hang. I'm ruined with all these 
 jossers now. De Vere will never buy any more 
 dogs of me. I say, who's that? " 
 
 A motor-car stopped outside the great hall door, 
 and a gentleman in black got out. He came up 
 the steps rapidly, and stopped dead when he found 
 all the world in front of him. 
 
 "I thought so," said Bradstock. "Now the 
 catalogue is complete." 
 
 " Lord Bramber ! " cried the others. Penelope 
 stood in the centre of the great hall as if she were 
 
THE EARL OF PULBOjtiOUGH 
 Clever ; but indolent 
 
LADY PENELOPE 361 
 
 turned to marble. But no marble ever had so sweet 
 a colour. 
 
 " I believe it is now the Earl of Pulborough," 
 said Bradstock, gravely, to the newcomer. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " Penelope, you sent for 
 me?" 
 
 Pen fell upon his neck before them all and did 
 not deny it. 
 
 And, as they stood still in great amazement. Bob 
 danced the baby up and down till that young gen- 
 tleman made up his mind to roar as soon as he 
 got his breath. 
 
 " This — this is Lord Bramber," howled Bob, 
 triumphantly. " Now admit you feel sorry you 
 spoke, granny ! " 
 
 He gave the baby to the nurse, and grabbed Goby 
 by the arm. 
 
 " I say, I'm awfully sorry, but it isn't my fault, 
 Captain Goby, and Ethel Mytton is a very nice girl, 
 and dead in love with you." 
 
 " Is she ? " sighed Goby. 
 
 " Mr. de Vere, I've got a bulldog — " 
 
 " Damn bulldogs ! " said De Vere. 
 
 Bob seized Gordon. 
 
 " Do you feel very bad, Mr. Gordon ? " he asked, 
 sympathetically. " I almost wish it had been you." 
 
 " It can't be helped," said Gordon, gloomily. " I 
 
362 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 never had a chance. Come and see me in the dty 
 next week, Bob." 
 
 Rivaulx and Carew and Williams took their hats 
 and slipped from the house, while Bob did what 
 he could to soften things for them. 
 
 " I'll come and see you all very often," he cried. 
 " Good-bye now ! " 
 
 An hour later, when Titania had the baby upon 
 her capacious lap, and said how certain she had 
 been the whole time that Bramber was Penelope's 
 choice. Bob walked around the garden with the 
 bishop and Lord Bradstock. 
 
 " Oh, it's quite easy to understand," said Bob. 
 " After all she said, you expected she would marry- 
 some outsider, and you see she took the pick of the 
 basket, and of course was ashamed. Oh, I know 
 Pen." 
 
 "You are a wonder. Bob," said Bradstock. 
 
 The bishop said that upon adequate reflection he 
 was inclined to agree with Bradstock. 
 
 " Well, Pen's all right," said Bob. 
 
 THE END. 
 
L. C. Page and Company's 
 Announcement List 
 of New Fiction 
 
 The Bright Face of Danger. By Robert 
 
 Neilson Stephens, author of " Philip Winwood," " A Gentle- 
 man Player," " Tlie Mystery of Murray Davenport," etc. 
 Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
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 unlike the great French novelist, he has written his best 
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 write, of fair women and brave men, the gay life of the 
 chateaux and the dangers of the road, hairbreadth escapes, 
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 accomphshed, without question, his masterpiece of romantic 
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 and one can see that here is a romance worA the name. 
 
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 as clever in depicting country life in the State of Michigan 
 as in his trenchant portrayal of the doings of the Chicago 
 wards. His principal character, a shrewd old fellow of much 
 wit and ingenuity, is declared by those who have read the 
 manuscript of the story, to " give David Harum cards and 
 spades." 
 
 Rachel Marr. By Morley Roberts, author of " The 
 
 Promotion of the Admiral," etc. 
 
 Library izmo, cloth decorative .... $1.50 
 
 In this novel Mr. Roberts has left the humors and tragedies 
 of the sea for a new field. " Rachel Marr " is a romance full 
 of that atmosphere and spirit which have made Thomas Hardy 
 famous. The book has met with not only popular success in 
 England, where it has gone to a tenth impression, but with 
 artistic success. The Daily Telegraph, London's most con. 
 servative literary sheet, says that " This novel is one of the 
 most significant productions of the times ; it is finely 
 conceived." 
 
Selections from 
 
 L. C. Page and Company's 
 
 List of Fiction 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 Captain Ravenshaw ; or, the maid of 
 
 Cheapside. (40th thousand.) A romance of Elizabethan 
 London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and other artists. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth $1.50 
 
 Not since the absorbing adventures of D'Artagnan have we 
 had anything so good in the blended vein of romance and 
 comedy. The beggar student, the rich goldsmith, the roisterer 
 and the rake, the fop and the maid, are all here : foremost 
 among them Captain Ravenshaw himself, soldier of fortune 
 and adventurer, who, after escapades of binding interest, 
 finally wins a way to fame and to matrimony. 
 
 Philip WinWOOd. (7°* thousand) A Sketch of 
 the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of 
 Independence, embracing events that occurred between and 
 during the years 1763 and 1785 in New York and London. 
 Written by his Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant 
 in the Loyalist Forces. Presented anew by Robert Neil- 
 son Stephens. Illustrated by E. W. D Hamilton. 
 Library i2mo, cloth Jfi-So 
 
 " One of the most stirring and remarkable romances that have 
 been published in a long while, and its episodes, incidents, and 
 actions are as interesting and agreeable as they are vivid and 
 dramatic." — Boston Times. 
 
 The Mystery of Murray Davenport. (30th 
 
 thousand.) By Robert Neilson Stephens, author of 
 " An Enemy to the King," " Philip Winwood," etc. 
 Library i2mo, cloth, with six full-page illustrations by H. C. 
 Edwards .... .... $1.50 
 
 "This is easily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done. 
 Those familiar with his other novels can best judge the measure of 
 this praise, which is generous." — Buffalo News. 
 
 "Mr. Stephens won a host of friends through his earlier volumes, 
 but we think he will do still better work in his new field if the 
 present volume is a criterion." — N. Y. Com. Advertiser. 
 
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 An Enemy to the King. (6oth thousand.) From 
 the "Recently Discovered Memoirs of the Sieur de la 
 Toumoire." Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 
 
 Library izmo, cloth $1.50 
 
 An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing 
 
 the adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of 
 
 Henry III., and on the field with Henry of Navarre. 
 " A stirring tale." — Detroit Free Press. 
 " A royally strong piece of fiction." — Boston Ideas. 
 " Interesting from the first to the last page." — Brooklyn Eagle. 
 " Brilliant as a play ; it is equally brilliant as a romantic novel." — 
 
 Philadelphia Press. 
 
 The Continental Dragoon : a romance of 
 
 Philipse Manor House in 1778. (43d thousand.) Illus- 
 trated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth I1.50 
 
 A stirring romance of the Revolution, the scene being laid 
 in and around the old Philipse Manor House, near Yonkers, 
 which at the time of the story was the central point of the so- 
 called " neutral territory " between the two armies. 
 
 The Road to Paris: a story of adventure. 
 
 (25th thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library l2mo, cloth $i-5o 
 
 An historical romance of the i8th century, being an account 
 of the life of an American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite 
 ancestry, whose family early settled in the colony of Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 A Qentleman Player : his adventures on a 
 
 Secret Mission for Queen Elizabeth. (38th thou- 
 sand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Library i2mo, cloth . . . . . , $1.50 
 
 " A Gentleman Player " is a romance of the Elizabethan 
 period. It relates the story of a young gentleman who, in the 
 reign of Elizabeth, falls so low in his fortune that he joins 
 Shakespeare's company of players, and becomes a friend and 
 prot^gd of the great poet. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 Barbara Ladd. with four illustrations by Frank 
 Verbeck. 
 
 Library i2mo, gilt top $i-So 
 
 " From the opening chapter to the final page Mr. Roberts lures 
 
 us on by his rapt devotion to the changing aspects of Nature and 
 
 by his keen and sympathetic analysis of human character." — Boston 
 
 Transcript. 
 
 The Kindred of the Wild, a book of animal 
 
 Life. With fifty-one full-page plates and many decorations 
 
 from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 
 Small quarto, decorative cover $2.00 
 
 " Professor Roberts has caught wonderfully the elusive individu- 
 alities of which he writes. His animal stories are marvels of sym- 
 pathetic science and literary exactness. Bound with the superb 
 illustrations by Charles Livingston Bull, they make a volume which 
 charms, entertains, and informs." — New York World. 
 
 "... Is in many ways the most brilliant collection of animal 
 stories that has appeared . . . well named and well done." — John 
 Burroughs. 
 
 The Forge in the Forest. Being the Narrative of 
 the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart, and 
 how he crossed the Black Abbd, and of his Adventures in a 
 Strange Fellowship. Illustrated by Henry Sandham, R. C. A. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth, gilt top $1.50 
 
 A romance of the convulsive period of the struggle between 
 the French and English for the possession of North Amer- 
 ica. The story is one of pure love and heroic adventure, and 
 deals with that fiery fringe of conflict that waved between 
 Nova Scotia and New England. The Expulsion of the Aca- 
 dians is foreshadowed in these brilliant pages, and the part of 
 the " Black Abba's " intrigues in precipitating that catastrophe 
 is shown. 
 
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 The Heart of the Ancient Wood, with 
 
 six illustrations by James L. Weston. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, decorative cover . . . . Ii.jo 
 
 " One of the most fascinating novels of recent days." — Boston 
 Journal. 
 
 " A classic twentieth-century romance." — New York Commercial 
 Advertiser. 
 
 A Sister to Evangeline. Being the story of 
 
 Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into Exile with the 
 
 Villagers of Grand Pr6. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . $1.50 
 
 This is a romance of the great expulsion of the Acadians, 
 which Longfellow first immortalized in " Evangeline." Swift 
 action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome purity, deep passion, 
 searching analysis, characterize this strong novel. 
 
 By the Marshes of Minas. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . $1.50 
 This is a volume of romance, of love and adventure in that 
 picturesque period when Nova Scotia was passing from the 
 French to the English rdgime. Each tale is independent of 
 the others, but the scenes are similar, and in several of them the 
 evil " Black Abbd," well known from the author's previous 
 novels, again appears with his savages at his heels — but to 
 be thwarted always by woman's wit or soldier's courage. 
 
 Earth's Enigmas, a new edition, with the addi- 
 tion of three new stories, and ten illustrations by Charles 
 Livingston Bull. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth, uncut edges .... $1.50 
 "Throughout the volume runs that subtle questioning of the 
 cruel, predatory side of nature which suggests the general title of 
 the book. In certain cases it is the picture of savage nature raven- 
 ing for food — for death to preserve life ; in others it is the secret 
 symbolism of woods and waters prophesying of evils and misadven- 
 tures to come. All this does not mean, however, that Mr. Roberts 
 is either pessimistic or morbid — it is nature in his books after all, 
 wholesome in her cruel moods as in her tender." — Tie Neiu York 
 Independent. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 LILIAN BELL 
 
 Hope Loring. lUustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . Ii-So 
 " Lilian Bell's new novel, ' Hope Loring,' does for the American 
 girl in fiction what Gibson has done for her in art. 
 
 " Tall, slender, and athletic, fragile-looking, yet with nerves and 
 sinews of steel under the velvet flesh, frank as a boy and tender and 
 beautiful as a woman, free and independent, yet not bold — such is 
 ' Hope Loring,' by long odds the subtlest study that has yet been 
 made of the American girl." — Dorothy Dix, in the New York 
 American. 
 
 Abroad with the Jimmies, with a portrait, in 
 
 duogravure, of the author. 
 
 Library 1 2ino, cloth, decorative cover . . . |i 50 
 
 "A deliciously fresh, graphic book. The writer is so original and 
 unspoiled that her point of view has value." — Mary Bartwell 
 Catherwood. 
 
 " Full of ozone, of snap, of ginger, of swing and momentum." — 
 Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 "... Is one of her best and cleverest novels . . . filled to the 
 brim with amusing incidents and experiences. This vivacious narra- 
 tive needs no commendation to the readers of Miss Bell's well-known 
 earlier books." — N. Y. Press. 
 
 The Interference of Patricia, with a frontis- 
 piece from drawing by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Small i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . |i.oo 
 "There is life and action and brilliancy and dash and cleverness 
 and a keen appreciation of business ways in this story.'' — Grand 
 Rapids Herald. 
 
 " A story full of keen and flashing satire." — Chicago Record- 
 Herald. 
 
 A Book of Girls, with a frontispiece. 
 
 Small i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . j!i 00 
 
 " The stories are all eventful and have effective humor." — New 
 York Sun. 
 
 " Lilian Bell surely understands girls, for she depicts all the varia- 
 tions of girl nature so charmingly." — Chicago Journal. 
 
 The above two volumes boxed in special holiday dress, per set, ^2 50. 
 
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 The Red Triangle. Being some funher chronicles of 
 Martin Hewitt, investigator. By Arthur Morrison, autiior 
 of " The Hole in the Wall," " Tales of Mean Streets," etc. 
 Library 1 2nio, cloth decorative . . . . $150 
 This is a genuine, straightforward detective story of the 
 kind that keeps the reader on the qui vive. Martin Hewitt, 
 investigator, might well have studied his methods from Sher- 
 lock Holmes, so searching and successful are they. 
 " Better than Sherlock Holmes." — New York Tribune. 
 " The reader who has a grain of fancy or imagination may be 
 defied to lay this book down, once he has begun it, until the last 
 word has been reached." — Philadelphia North American. 
 
 " If you like a good detective story you will enjoy this." — Brook- 
 lyn Eagle. 
 
 " We have found ' The Red Triangle ' a book of absorbing inter- 
 est." — Rochester Herald. 
 " Will be eagerly read by every one who likes a tale of mystery." 
 
 — The Scotsman, England. 
 
 Prince Hagen. By Upton Sinclair, author of " King 
 
 Midas," etc. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative . . . . #15° 
 
 In this book Mr. Sinclair has written a satire of the first 
 order — one worthy to be compared with Swift's biting tirades 
 against the follies and abuses of mankind. 
 
 " A telling satire on politics and society in modern New York." 
 
 — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " The book has a living vitality and is a strong depiction of 
 political New York." — Bookseller, Newsdealer, and Stationer. 
 
 Tiie Silent Maid. By Frederic W. Pangborn. 
 Large i6mo, cloth decorative, with a frontispiece by Frank 
 
 T. Merrill $1.00 
 
 A dainty and delicate legend of the brave days of old, of 
 sprites and pixies, of trolls and gnomes, of ruthless barons and 
 noble knights. " The Silent Maid " herself, with her strange 
 bewitchment and wondrous song, is equalled only by Undine 
 in charm and mystery. 
 
 " Seldom does one find a short tale so idyllic in tone and so fanci- 
 ful in motive. The book shows great delicacy of imagination." — 
 The Criterion. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 The Spoilsmen. By Elliott Flower, author of 
 
 « Policeman Flynn," etc. 
 
 Library l2mo, clotli $1.50 
 
 "The best one may hear of 'The Spoilsmen' will be none too 
 good. As a wide-awake, snappy, brilliant political story it has few 
 equals, its title-page being stamped with that elusive mark, ' success.' 
 One should not miss a word of a book like this at a time like this 
 and in a world of politics like this." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " Elliott Flower, whose ' Policeman Flynn ' attested his acquaint- 
 ance with certain characteristic aspects of the American city, has 
 written a novel of municipal politics, which should interest many 
 readers. . . . The characters are obviously suggested by certain 
 actual figures in local politics, and while the conditions he depicts 
 are general in large cities in the United States, they will be unusually 
 familiar to local readers. . . . Ned Bell, the ' Old Man,' or political 
 boss ; Billy Ryan, his lieutenant ; ' Rainbow John,' the alderman, 
 are likely to be identified. . . . and other personages of the story 
 are traceable to their prototypes." — Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 Stephen Holton. By Charles Felton Pidgin, 
 author of " Quincy Adams Sawyer," " Blennerhassett," etc. 
 The frontispiece is a portrait of the hero by Frank T. 
 Merrill. 
 One vol., library 1 2mo, cloth, gilt top , . . $150 
 
 " In the delineation of rural life, the author shows that intimate 
 sympathy which distinguished his first success, 'Quincy Adams 
 Sawyer.' " — Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " ' Stephen Holton ' stands as his best achievement." — Detroit 
 Free Press. 
 
 " New England's common life seems a favorite material for this 
 sterling author, who in this particular instance mixes his colors with 
 masterly skill." — Boston Globe. 
 
 Asa Holmes; or, at the Cross-Roads. a sketch 
 of Country Life and Country Humor. By Annie Fellows 
 Johnston. With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 
 
 Large i6mo, cloth, gilt top $1 00 
 
 " ' Asa Holmes ; or, At the Cross-Roads ' is the most delightful, 
 most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a 
 long while. The lovable, cheerful, touching incidents, the descrip- 
 tions of persons and things are wonderfully true to nature." — 
 Boston Times. 
 
8 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 A Daughter of Thespis. By John d. barry, 
 
 author of " The Intriguers," " Mademoiselle Blanche," etc. 
 
 Library izmo, cloth decorative . . . • JSi-So 
 
 " I should say that ' A Daughter of Thespis ' seemed so honest 
 about actors and acting that it made you feel as if the stage had 
 never been truly written about before." — W. D. Howells, in 
 Harper's Weekly. 
 
 " This story of the experiences of Evelyn Johnson, actress, may 
 be praised just because it is so true and so wholly free from melo- 
 drama and the claptrap which we have come to think inseparable 
 from any narrative which has to do with theatrical experiences." — 
 Professor Harry Thurston Peck, of Columbia University. 
 
 " Certainly written from a close and shrewd observation of stage 
 Ufe." — Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 The Golden Dog: a romance of Quebec. By 
 William Kirby. New authorized edition, printed from new 
 plates. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 One vol., library i2mo, cloth . . . . $1.25 
 
 "A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the 
 times of Louis XV. and Madame de Pompadour, when the French 
 colonies were making their great struggle to retain for an ungrateful 
 court the fairest jewels in the colonial diadem of France. It is a 
 most masterly picture of the cruelties and the jealousies of a maiden, 
 Angelique des Melloises — fair as an angel and murderous as Medea. 
 Mr. Kirby has shown how false prides and ambitions stalked abroad 
 at this time, how they entered the heart of man to work his destruc- 
 tion, and particularly how they influenced a beautiful demon in 
 female form to continued vengeances." — Boston Herald. 
 
 The Last Word. By Alice MacGowan. Illus- 
 trated with seven portraits of the heroine. 
 Library I zmo, cloth, gilt top . . . . $1.50 
 
 " When one receives full measure to overflowing of delight in a 
 tender, charming, and wholly fascinating new piece of fiction, the 
 enthusiasm is apt to come uppermost. Miss MacGowan has been 
 known before, but her best gift has here declared itself." — Louisville 
 Post. 
 
 " The story begins and ends in Western Texas. Between chapters, 
 there is the ostensible autobiography of a girl who makes her way 
 in New York journalism. Out of it all comes a book, vivid, bright, ■ 
 original — one of a kind and the kind most welcome to readers of 
 the hitherto conventional." — New York World. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 9 
 
 The Captain's Wife. By w. clark russell, 
 
 author of " The Wreck of the Grosvenor." With a frontis- 
 piece by C. H. Dunton. 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative .... $1.50 
 
 " Mr. Russell's descriptions of the sea are vivid and full of color, 
 and he brings home to the reader the feeling that he is looking 
 upon the real thing drawn by one who has seen the scenes and 
 ■writes from knowledge." — Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " Every page is readable and exciting." — Baltimore Herald. 
 
 " This story may be considered as one of the best of his excellent 
 tales of the sea." — Chicago Post. 
 
 " There are suggestions of Marryat in it, and reminders of Charles 
 Reade, but mostly it is Clark Russell, with his delightful descriptions 
 and irresistible sea yarns." — Phila. North American. 
 
 The Mate of the Good Ship York. By w. 
 
 Clark Russell, author of " The Wreck of the Grosvenor," 
 
 etc. With a frontispiece by C. H. Dunton. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative . . . . iSi.50 
 
 " One of the breeziest, most absorbing books that have come to 
 our table is W. Clark RusseU's 'The Mate of the Good Ship 
 York.' " — Buffalo Commercial. 
 
 "For a rousing, absorbing, and, withal, a truthful tale of the sea, 
 commend me to W. Clark Russell. His novel, 'The Mate of the 
 Good Ship York,' is one of the best, and the love romance that runs 
 through it will be appreciated by every one." — Philadelphia North 
 American. 
 
 "Romantic adventures, hairbreadth escapes, and astounding 
 achievements keep things spinning at a lively rate and hold the 
 reader's attention throughout the breezy narrative." — Toledo Blade. 
 
 The Golden Kingdom. By Andrew balfour, 
 
 author of " Vengeance Is Mine," " To Arms ! " etc. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative . . . . $1.50 
 
 This is a story of adventure on land and sea, beginning in 
 England and ending in South Africa, in the last days of the 
 seventeenth century. The scheme of the tale at once puts 
 the reader in mind of Stevenson's " Treasure Island " 
 
 " Every one imbued with the spirit of adventure and with a broad 
 imaginative faculty will want to read this tale." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " ' The Golden Kingdom ' is the rarest adventure book of them 
 aU." — A^. Y. World. 
 
10 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 The Schemers : A Tale of Modern Life. 
 
 By Edward F. Harkins, author of " Little Pilgrimages 
 Among the Men Who Have Written Famous Books," etc. 
 With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 
 
 Library izmo, cloth $i-5o 
 
 A story of a new and real phase of social life in Boston, 
 skilfully and daringly handled. There is plenty of life and 
 color abounding, and a diversity of characters — shop-girls, 
 society belles, men about town, city politicians, and others. 
 The various schemers and their schemes will be followed with 
 interest, and there will be some discerning readers who may 
 claim to recognize in certain points of the story certain hap- 
 penings in the shopping and the society circles of the Hub. 
 
 "A faithful delineation of real shop-girl life." — Milwaukee 
 Sentinel. 
 
 " This comes nearer to the actual life of a modern American city, 
 with all its complexities, than any other work of American fiction. 
 The book shows an unusual power of observation and a still more 
 unusual power to concentrate and interpret what is observed." 
 St. Louis Star. 
 
 The Promotion of The Admiral. By 
 
 MoRLEY Roberts, author of " The Colossus," " The Fugi- 
 tives," " Sons of Empire," etc. 
 
 Library izmo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 
 
 This volume contains half a dozen stories of sea life, — 
 
 fresh, racy, and bracing, — all laid in America, — stories full 
 
 of rollicking, jolly, sea-dog humor, tempered to the keen edge of 
 
 wit. 
 
 " If any one writes better sea stories than Mr. Roberts, we don't 
 know who it is ; and if there is a better sea story of its kind than 
 this it would be a joy to have the pleasure of reading it." — New 
 York Sun. 
 
 "To read these stories is a tonic for the mind; the stories are 
 gems, and for pith and vigor of description they are unequalled." — 
 New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " There is a hearty laugh in every one of these stories.'' — Tie 
 Reader. 
 
 " Mr. Roberts treats the life of the sea in a way that is intensely 
 real and intensely human." — Milwaukee Sentinel. 
 
 " The author knows his sea men from A to Z." — Philadelphia 
 North American.