“I tell you what, Frank, you are getting extremely snappish and disagreeable,” Prescott said one day to his friend, “the sooner you go out of town the better.” “Do you know, Prescott, I quite agree with you. I am. I am sick of this sort of life, and I want a change.”
“You were talking of buying a yacht, Frank. We are in June now. If you really mean to do anything in that way this year, it is time to be seeing about it.”
“Pooh! nonsense, man. You know what I mean. I want to go down into Staffordshire again, but I don't see what excuse to make.”
“I suppose the proper thing to do, Frank, is to write to Mr. Drake to ask his permission to pay your addresses to his niece.”
[87]
“What a fellow you are, Prescott! You do make the most ridiculous propositions of any man I ever met.”
“It is a pity you did not ask her before you came away, Frank,” Prescott said, after a pause.
“How could I, man?” Frank said irritably. “I was there little over three weeks, and I was not sure about myself for the first fortnight. If it had been summer, and we had had picnics and all that sort of thing, where you can manage to get alone with a girl and make your running, it would have been different; but in a house full of people I had no opportunities whatever. It was only that last week too that I had quite made up my own mind about it. You don't suppose a woman is like a peach, and that you only have to open your mouth for her to fall into it. Katie is a good deal too great a prize to jump at the first bait. Besides Katie and I fought so, and, I confess, I teazed her so much, that she got to look upon everything I said as chaff, and if I had told her I loved her, the chance was she would have laughed in my face, and serve me right too. [88] I don't think she had any idea I really cared for her, and I believe, upon my word, that at one time she positively disliked me. At any rate it was altogether out of the question my speaking at the time, and it would be just as absurd my writing to her now. Besides, writing about those sort of affairs is a mistake. Things that sound real and earnest enough when you say them, look mere sentimental bosh when they're put down on paper. No, upon my word, I don't see my way. It's little over two months since I left, and I can't offer to go down again, especially in June—there is no excuse that I can see. There is no hunting or shooting, if I did either, which I don't. What the deuce could I want to go down into Staffordshire in June for?” And Frank, in extreme perplexity, looked at Prescott for assistance.
“You have quite made up your mind, Frank?”
“Of course, my dear fellow, am I not telling you so?”
“Well, Frank, in that case what I should recommend is this. I should really write to Mr. Drake, not a formal letter, you know, but [89] a friendly straightforward one, say that you are desirous of paying your addresses to his niece, that in the confusion and the number of people in the house you had not the opportunity of doing so before. That you are perfectly unaware of her feelings towards you, and that you are desirous of being a short time in her society again before you speak to her, and you therefore ask him if he will again extend his hospitality to you. I think that is about the way to put it. You might ask him to say nothing to Miss O'Byrne respecting your visit, as it might cause an awkwardness between you.”
“By Jove, yes!” Frank said, “I would as soon do battle with a lioness as meet Katie O'Byrne, after our late encounters, if she knew for certain that I had come down to make formal love to her. No, no, Prescott, it would destroy my chance altogether. I must request absolutely that Katie shall know nothing about it. She may guess what she likes. She can't take a high ground because she guesses, but if she were officially informed of it, I should no more be able to hold my own with her than I should to fly. Altogether I think it is a very good [90] idea. Yes, I will write at once. Now, Prescott, you dictate it, you have a legal mind, you know, and I will write. But what do you say to writing to Teddy instead of to Mr. Drake? I can ask him to put it to his father, you know, and it will be less formal—eh?”
Prescott said that he saw no objection, and in that case he did not think he need dictate the letter. To this Frank agreed, and wrote as follows:—
“My dear Teddy,
“I dare say what I am going to tell you will surprise you; but, the fact is, I have really fallen awfully in love with Katie O'Byrne. Now, you see, last time I was down there I had not time to make my running. There was too much going on, you see, and too many people about. Now I do think, Teddy, I could make her happy if she could care for me. I want you to give me a chance. Will you speak to your father and mother and tell them what I wish, and ask them to allow me to try to make Katie in love with me. You can mention that, so far as means are concerned, I [91] have eight hundred a-year of my own, and Uncle Harry, you know Captain Bradshaw, has always treated me as his son, and no doubt at his death I shall come into a considerable fortune. Should they offer no objection, will you write and ask me to come down again for a fortnight, but above all, Teddy, do not let a word be said to either your sister or Kate. If Sarah knows it Katie is certain to find it out, and I could no more face her in that formal sort of way than I could fly. It would knock any chance I might have completely on head. Write soon, Teddy, for I shall be in an awfully nervous state till I hear from you. Be sure and keep it dark as to what I am coming down for—say you have asked me down to do some hunting, or something of that sort.
“Yours ever,
“Frank Maynard.”
Teddy Drake received this epistle at breakfast, and its contents threw him into a state of profound astonishment. He had not had the slightest idea of Frank's feelings towards Katie, and when he recovered from his astonishment [92] was most delighted. He had given one long whistle of surprise when he had arrived at the second line, but had read on to the end in silence without heeding the questions of the girls as to what was the matter with him.
“Now, Teddy, what is it?” Sarah asked as he finished. “What does Frank say, to surprise you so?” for Teddy had apprised them who his correspondent was before he had begun to read.
“Is it what does he say?” Teddy repeated, in order to gain time to invent an answer.
“Yes, of course, Teddy, how tiresome you are.”
“Frank is thinking of becoming a monk and joining a holy community.”
“No, don't be talking nonsense, Teddy.”
“Well, Sarah, he's talking of going out to Arabia and becoming a dancing dervish.”
“Don't ask him, Sarah,” Katie said indignantly; “if he doesn't choose to tell us, sure and we don't want to know. Come along, we will go and practise our duet.”
When they had left the room Teddy turned to his father and mother: “Frank has written to ask me to ask you to let him run down again, to make love to Katie.”
[93]
“Really, Teddy, you talk so much nonsense I do not know when you are speaking the truth,” Mr. Drake said, while Mrs. Drake uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“I am as serious as possible this time,” Teddy said, and he read out a portion of Frank's letter.
“I am very glad,” Mrs. Drake said, “and to think I had never guessed it. I am so glad, he is such a nice fellow, and it will be a very good thing for Katie. Don't you think so, Robert?”
“Yes, my dear, I do not see any objection in any way. Mr. Maynard is a little too rackety to suit me, but I do not know that that will be any objection in Katie's eyes. By all means, Teddy, write and ask him to come down; and try and don't do anything foolish, if you can help it, or speak about his coming. If you had not made a sort of mystery about his letter this morning we could have mentioned naturally enough that he was coming down for a short time for change of air, or we could have made some excuse or other. As it is it will be better to say nothing about it, and leave him to [94] explain matters for himself as best he can. Ask him to come down, say on Tuesday. There is the gig at the door, are you ready, Teddy?”
Upon reaching his office, Teddy Drake sat down to write to Frank Maynard.
“My dear Frank,
“I am delighted at hearing that you are smitten by the archer boy (isn't that the delicate way of putting it?) and especially that the person by whom you are so smitten is my cousin Katie. By the way, according to that way of putting it, Katie would be the archer boy, which is absurd. So my metaphor is wrong somewhere, but after reading it over several times, I can't for the life of me see where. However you see what I mean, and Katie and the archer boy have both somehow had to do with the business, but they've got mixed up together till I can't tell which is which. Seriously I am awfully glad, Frank. To............