Madame nods at me. "Come," she says; "I know you've got penetration.

You're an observer of character. You're a thinker. My nephew has told me you're writing a philosophical work. Now, I want you to lend me your sagacity, and confirm my suspicions."

_Happy Thought._--Look sagacious. Smile in deprecation of too much sagacity. I feel that, being right as far as mentioning Miss Adelaide goes, my next guess will probably be wrong. Risk it.

I say, "Miss Adelaide and Cazell, eh?" (They are walking together.)

Madame shakes her head. I have gone down in her estimation, evidently.

_Happy Thought._--To a.s.sume my own penetration. Say to Madame, "Ah, well, you'll see"--meaning, you'll find I'm right and you're wrong.

"No, no," she replies. "Mr. Cazell and Miss Bella, Mr. Chilvern and Miss Adelaide."

"H'm," I say, dubiously. Madame Regniati, cla.s.sical, lover of high art as she is, is, when occasion offers, is simply a match-maker. I believe it's a feminine instinct.

"They've both got money," she adds. She has summed it all up, and arranged it.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXVI.

AT DINNER.--WEIGHT.--WATCHING.--JOKES.--PROTEST.--AWKWARD SITUATION.

--AN ANNOUNCEMENT.--INQUIRY.--ARRIVAL.--PRACTICAL JOKES.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

This weighs on my mind. I can't help looking from one to the other--from Chilvern to Miss Adelaide, from Miss Bella to Cazell.

Milburd is more attentive to the latter than Chilvern, who seems to me to be making up to Miss Medford, if to anyone; while Byrton sits next to Miss Bella at dinner, and monopolizes her entirely.

Sly things _are_ pa.s.sing; I notice _that_. As President, I have to sit at the head of the table, and can't join in any of the fun. They have got a joke among them that I can't make out. The joke flies about, like an invisible shuttlec.o.c.k, between Cazell, Miss Adelaide, Chilvern, Miss Bella, and Byrton.

Jenkyns Soames sits on my right, and _will_ talk arithmetic and science to me.

The Medfords and the Frimmelys make another joke-party as it were, and I cannot understand what's going on.

_Happy Thought._--Look as if I did. Smile, nod, say "I know." Milburd asks, almost rudely, "_Do_ you? What is it?" As I don't, I merely smile again, and say "Yes" to Jenkyns Soames, who is giving me his reasons for supposing, by calculation, that vegetables have had a pre-adamite existence, and that even a turnip may have a glorious future before it, when man has disappeared from the face of the earth.

[I shall protest against my term of office being protracted beyond the five weeks, after Christmas, that I undertook to stop here. Three have expired. I begin to hate Jenkyns Soames.]

A servant brings in a card for Mr. Milburd.

+------------------+ | Baron Booteljak. | +------------------+

"By Jove!" exclaims Milburd, "I _am_ so glad. That's capital."

Everyone puzzled.

_The Signor_ (_after reading the card_).--"O! eet ees a fonny name. I nev-ver 'ear soch an-name-bef-fore. Deeek! eet ees your non-sense."

Milburd returns. He has shown the new guest to his room. He will join us directly. He explains that sending in his card "Baron Booteljak" is "his fun." "Such an amusing chap," says Milburd; "he has cards of all sorts of names, printed to leave on his friends, and puzzle 'em. He tells me that he's brought down a box of practical jokes with him, all labelled, numbered, and ready for use."

This intelligence is not received with that warmth which Milburd evidently had thought it would have elicited.

Further discussion is stopped by the entrance of

[Ill.u.s.tration: JIMMY LAYDER.]

CHAPTER XXVII.

FIFTH WEEK--DIFFICULTIES--HINTS--BOODELS' SECRET--ARRIVAL OF JIMMY LAYDER--A CHANGE--PRACTICAL JOKES--PLAYING THE FOOL--DRESSING UP-- MORE JOKES--CHEMICAL LECTURE--EXPERIMENTS--RESULTS--OPEN WINDOWS-- COLDS--DEPARTURES--SMALL BY DEGREES--BEAUTIFULLY LESS--THE SHILLING AND THE TUMBLER--BOODELS' LAST--TWO'S COMPANY--CONCLUSION.

_Note._ Fifth week of our being here.

Very happy generally, Miss Medford remarkably nice. Misses Adelaide and Bella are always out with Cazell, Milburd and Chilvern. We've given Jenkyns Soames several hints to go. He won't.

If I wasn't President--I should like to--but Byrton's always out with Miss Medford. I wonder that a girl with brains, as she evidently has, can be taken by a fellow, who really seems to think of nothing but riding, driving, and--

"_Her_," says Boodels, to whom I utter secretly my complaint. I admit the truth of this. Boodels informs me that he's going to be married. I congratulate him. When? When his house is done up. Do I know the lady?

Yes. Anyone here?--Ah, he won't say, and begs me to consider this communication strictly confidential.

Jimmy Layder is becoming a nuisance. He is perpetually practically joking. Once and away it's very good fun--when he performs on somebody else, not me. He comes down-stairs quietly (this is one of his favourite tricks--so stupid, too!) and slaps you on the back suddenly, immediately afterwards begging your pardon, and explaining that he mistook you for somebody else.

Then the second day he was here, he changed all the boots. The third day I could not find a single thing in its place when I went to dress in a hurry. On my complaining to him, he pretends to be the Clown in the Pantomime (whom he emulates in everything--and really, most dangerously, with a genuine hot poker--so childish, and worse), and putting his hand on his heart he declares "on his honour he didn't do it." I know, that, when I turn, he sets them all (Miss Medford, too) laughing by making some grotesque face, and, if I face about suddenly, he is staring at nothing on the ceiling, or pretending to catch a fly. He puts oranges in boots, spoons and corkscrews in people's pockets--generally mine--and has an irritating trick of calling out "Hi!" and beckoning; then, when you come, he asks you what you want?

_Happy Thought._--To speak to him quietly, alone. He listens. He owns that his exuberance of animal spirits often leads him away. [Happy Thought.--Wish they'd take him away altogether.] He says he thinks it's owing to the bracing air; adding, that I take a joke so well, he is sure I shan't be angry. I tell him that I don't speak _on my own account_, but for the sake of others. He promises he will be quiet and serious.

At night he keeps his word by coming down dressed like the proverbial methodist Mawworm. An enormous white tie, doubled. His hair combed sadly straight. A high black waistcoat, his trousers shortened, white stockings and shoes.

They encourage him by laughing. He addresses everyone as "My Christian Brother," or "Sister," and informs them that the Head of the Establishment has requested him to be serious.

He insists upon a serious evening, and tells us that Mr. Jenkyns Soames has consented to give a Chemical Lecture "with," he adds impressively, "experiments."

It appears that Layder and Milburd have undertaken to a.s.sist the Professor.

After dinner, Layder announces that he has an entertainment to commence with. He takes me on one side. We go into the library, which he has prepared as a sort of dressing-room.

_Happy Thought._--Humour him, and then he'll play practical jokes on somebody else--not me.

He says, "Look here, you and I will dress up, and be the lecturer's servants." Very harmless and funny, seeing that the dresses (which he has brought with him) are a mantle spangled, two or three pairs of tights and Cavalier boots, and a c.o.c.ked hat. He says he's got a charade, and Milburd will dress up too, and we'll have it before the Lecture.