James Hinton stood respectfully aside while Jimmy made his offer to the proprietor of the garage. When he got his chance to speak, his voice, like that of every good servant, was emotionless and soothing.

"Excuse my asking you the question, my lord, but will the ladies be spending the night at the Manor House?"

"They didn't intend to," said Jimmy. "Nor did I. But we'll all have to now, unless you feel inclined to run us up to town after dinner in your Ford."

Hinton smiled an entirely respectful appreciation of this pleasantry.

"I merely asked the question, my lord," he said, "because I thought it might be well to make arrangements for bringing up the luggage."

It was perfectly apparent that there was no luggage to bring. The Pallas Athene was not even fitted with a luggage grid and there were no bags or suit cases in the car. But Hinton would have considered it a breach of good manners to appear to think that two ladies, companions of Lord Colavon and guests of Sir Evelyn Dent, could possibly be travelling without luggage.

"Great Scott!" said Jimmy, "I never thought of that. Of course they haven't got a blessed thing for the night. Nor have I. It doesn't matter about me. Uncle Evie can lend me a razor and a comb. But—I say, Hinton, you know all about these things. Do you think Uncle Evie's housemaid could lend the ladies what they want?"

"I've no doubt that the female members of the Manor House staff," said Hinton, "will be able to supply all that is absolutely necessary. But that is a course which I would hardly recommend. The garments usually worn by young persons of that class, my lord, are not what the ladies are accustomed to."

"Housemaids don't run to silk nighties, Hinton?"

"I fear not, my lord."

"Then what on earth had we better do? The shops in this place are sure to be shut by this time."

"If your lordship is willing to leave the matter in my hands—— As it happens Mr. Linker, the principal ladies' outfitter in Morriton St. James, is a friend of mine. I intended, if your lordship will pardon my mentioning my own affairs—I intended paying him a visit this evening. A little matter of business, my lord. Indeed that was the original purpose of my visit to Morriton St. James. I feel quite certain that Mr. Linker will be ready to let the ladies have what they require."

"I suppose that you and Linker between you will know what they do require."

"I venture to hope so, my lord, and I may add, that although Mr. Linker's establishment is not quite on a level with the best of the London houses, he stocks some very high-class goods. I feel convinced that if the matter is left in our hands the young ladies will have no reason to complain."

"All right," said Jimmy, "and if your friend Linker happens to have a suit of pyjamas that will fit me, and a clean collar, and a brush and comb——. But I expect it's too much to expect him to have brushes and combs."

"I think, my lord, that through Mr. Linker's influence in the town all your lordship requires will be obtainable. May I ask"—Hinton took out a slip of paper to make a note of the important answer to this question, "which shaving soap your lordship prefers and which tooth powder?"

"Hinton," said Jimmy, "you're invaluable. Dolly regarded you as a jewel, but he little knew what you could do. Spotting winners is nothing to providing three complete trousseaux at an hour's notice in a small country town. I don't believe there's another man in England could do it." He took out his pocket-book. "Will a ten pound note cover the damage? If so, keep the change. You deserve it and more."

"Mr. Linker will no doubt furnish his account in due course, my lord," said Hinton.

He pocketed the note as he spoke. It is by such actions that men become rich enough to buy country inns, refurnish them, and give fifty pound guarantees to pageants.

Jimmy took his seat beside Hinton in the front of the Ford. The car was now able to run on high gear, but even so the noise of their progress was considerable. Quite enough to render it safe for the passengers in front to talk without any risk of being overheard by those behind.

Jimmy took advantage of his opportunity.

"I say, Hinton, you know Uncle Evie pretty well, don't you?"

"I had the honour of valetting him more than once when I was first footman in the service of your lordship's father, the late earl."

"Then you must know all there is to know about his little tempers and fads and so forth. Just tell me this, speaking quite confidentially—how do you think he'll take it when I tell him that I and the two ladies have come to stay? He's expecting us to dinner but not for the night. Now what about it, Hinton? Will there be any unpleasantness? To be quite candid, I expect we'll be there for the best part of a week. It will take all that to get whatever spare parts are wanted for the Pallas Athene."

"I don't happen to know exactly how Sir Evelyn Dent is situated at the moment, my lord, but if there is any difficulty with the domestic staff I shall be only too pleased to offer my services."

"That's kind of you, Hinton, but it's not exactly what I meant. I was thinking more——"

"Quite so, my lord," said Hinton, interrupting him, but very respectfully. "You're thinking of the young ladies. So far as waiting at table is concerned I am quite prepared to relieve the staff of any extra work. But what your lordship has in mind is the maiding of the young ladies. That, I fear, I am not competent to undertake. But I happen to be aware that the head of the dressmaking department in Mr. Linker's establishment was formerly ladies' maid in some quite good houses. I have no doubt that in order to oblige she would be willing to look after the young ladies during their stay."

"Secure her, Hinton, if you think it will make matters any easier with the Manor House staff. But it wasn't so much the servants that I was thinking about. How will Uncle Evie himself take it? That's the real question."

"I've never known Sir Evelyn behave otherwise than as a perfect gentleman, my lord."

"That's all right as far as it goes, and it's nice to know that he won't throw stones at them. But a gentleman, even a perfect gentleman, can make things damned uncomfortable for other people when he chooses. Now, will he? That's the point."

"That, my lord," said Hinton, "will depend a good deal on the young ladies themselves. I've always understood that Sir Evelyn, when a young man, was very fond of the society of ladies, agreeable ladies, if you understand me, my lord."

Hinton's way of saying "agreeable ladies" left no doubt in Jimmy's mind what kind of ladies he meant. He turned on him rather angrily.

"Don't get it into your head, Hinton, that I'm travelling about the country with women of that sort, or that I'd try to foist them on Uncle Evie if I was."

"I beg pardon, my lord," said Hinton in a tone of great humility. "Nothing was further from my mind than to suggest anything of that sort. When I said agreeable I meant nothing more than sprightly, if I may use the word."

He had meant a great deal more; but Jimmy accepted the denial.

"Any breach of decorum would, I feel sure, be most objectionable to Sir Evelyn Dent. But I'm quite sure that there's not the slightest reason to anticipate such a thing."

Jimmy was a quicktempered but easily-pacified young man. The idea of Beth Appleby and Mary Lambert earning their board and lodging by sprightliness tempered with decorum amused him. He turned round in his seat and addressed the two girls.

"Just listen to this," he said. "We've got to cadge on Uncle Evie for beds to-night. Must sleep somewhere, you know, and there isn't anywhere else. Hinton, who knows all about everything, says that if you two behave properly Uncle Evie will be quite kind, so what you've got to be is—— What was the word you used, Hinton? I know it was a good one."

"Sprightly, my lord," said Hinton, "but I'm not sure whether it would be advisable to repeat it to the young ladies."

"What you've got to be," said Jimmy, turning to the girls again, "is sprightly."

"I'm there all the time in sprightliness," said Beth. "That's how I earn my daily bread. If Lilith didn't lisp with unfailing sprightliness I'd lose my job."

"But at the same time," said Jimmy, "there mustn't be the slightest breach of decorum. Hinton says Uncle Evie is a perfect dragon on decorum."

"That's where you'll have to be careful, Mary, my dear," said Beth.

"Me!" said Mary. "I shall be a petrified icicle with sheer terror. But, I say, Jimmy does that mean no cigarettes?"

"What do you say about that, Hinton?" said Jimmy. "Is Uncle Evie down on women smoking?"

"Many ladies of good position smoke nowadays, my lord," said Hinton. "I should imagine that Sir Evelyn Dent is quite accustomed to it!"

"One cigarette after each meal, Mary," said Jimmy. "Certainly not more."

The warnings turned out to be unnecessary. Sir Evelyn received the girls with dignified, though slightly pompous, kindness. When he heard of the failure of the Pallas Athene he at once offered to put up the whole party for the night.

"My head housemaid seems to be a very competent young woman," he said to Beth; "if you'll be so good as to tell her what you want. This is a bachelor household, I'm afraid, but the head housemaid is really very resourceful. You may not be quite as comfortable as if you'd brought your own luggage——"

"Oh, that's all right," said Jimmy. "Hinton happens to know a man who supplies outfits complete from the cradle to the coffin at ten minutes' notice. A capital fellow. Baby clothes and shrouds are all the same to him and of course anything in between."

"How thrilling!" said Beth. "Do you mean to say that you were arranging all that while we thought you were swapping your motor for a Ford? But do you think Hinton will remember everything? I'd like a toothbrush, I must say."

"Hinton," said Jimmy, "is to be relied on absolutely."

"Hinton?" said Sir Evelyn. "Is that the man who keeps an inn in a village called Hailey Compton? If so, I know him, and I really think, Miss Appleby, that you may rely on him. He has a knack of getting exactly what he wants. I've seen a good deal of him during the last fortnight. He keeps coming here about a pageant they're getting up. I wonder what he's doing in Morriton St. James this evening. Surely he can't be coming to see me again?"

Sir Evelyn had in fact received seven or eight visits from Hinton, who often brought Mrs. Eames with him and never came without a request of some kind. Sir Evelyn, persuaded by Hinton and talked down by Mrs. Eames, had already asked some of the most eminent people in the kingdom to be patrons of the pageant. He had written several articles on English smuggling with special allusions to the pageant—and persuaded the editors of some of our leading daily papers to publish them. He dreaded being asked to do anything more, and the news that Hinton was in Morriton St. James made him uneasy. Jimmy reassured him.

"He's not after you this time, Uncle Evie. He's come to see the local underclothes man on a matter of business. He told me so himself. I didn't ask what the business was, but I should say it had something to do with backing horses. Dolly—that's Lord Dollman, you know—always said that Hinton was A1 for spotting winners. If it wasn't that it was making money some other way. Hinton's always there when it comes to gathering in the cash."

"He got five shillings out of me for a glass of beer the other day," said Sir Evelyn.

"That's nothing," said Jimmy. "He had a tenner from me over this outfitting business."

"Good gracious, Jimmy!" said Beth. "You don't mean to say you spent ten pounds on nighties for me and Mary?"

"I meant to," said Jimmy, "but I didn't. Hinton collared the money and the other fellow's to send in a bill afterwards."

Thus, thanks mainly to the sprightliness of Lord Colavon, pleasant relations were established at once, and Sir Evelyn began to enjoy the society of his guests. He became actually cordial during dinner when he discovered that Beth was the author of Lilith's weekly Lispings.

"I am entertaining angels unawares. I have to thank you, my dear young lady, for the pleasure your delightful causerie has given me since I first began to read it."

In this Sir Evelyn was perfectly sincere. Beth, at the instigation of Mrs. Eames, had written a number of very nice paragraphs about him. Since his retirement from public life, after the fall of the Government, his name had dropped out of the newspapers. He missed, more than he would have cared to confess, the daily bundle of press cuttings which used to come to him from an industrious agent in London. Beth's flattering Lispings were "good news from a far country," which, as Solomon says with all his usual wisdom, is like "cold water to a thirsty soul."

"And how is your aunt?" said Sir Evelyn. "But I dare say I can give you the latest news of her. She lunched with me three days ago. We were discussing the details of her very interesting scheme for a local pageant. Her idea—it is entirely hers. I do no more than help her with such crumbs of historical knowledge as I possess. Her idea—but I'm sure you've heard about it."

"Oh, rather," said Beth. "I've heard of nothing else for weeks. Almost daily letters from Aunt Agatha. I'm working hard at the publicity side of the affair. Mary has just agreed to be a patron as representative of the dramatic world."

"Miss Lambert's name," said Sir Evelyn with a courteous bow, "will go far to secure success."

"I'm in it too," said Jimmy. "Beth roped me in as a patron this morning."

"Jimmy represents the world of sport," said Beth.

"I'm delighted to hear," said Sir Evelyn, "that Jimmy is going to do something useful at last. Your good influence, no doubt, Miss Appleby."

"Hang it all, Uncle Evie!" said Jimmy. "I'm not such a rotter as all that. Look at the way I've been supporting home industry, knocking out unemployment and all that sort of rot by buying cars like the Pallas Athene. Very few fellows would do it."

"You may perhaps be able to help us," said Sir Evelyn, "in the matter of securing a suitable lugger. The luggers used in the contraband trade during the latter part of the eighteenth century were of the type known as chasse-marÉe, designed originally in France. But I fear that these details will not interest you young ladies."

"They thrill us," said Beth. "Don't they Mary?"

"Of course," said Mary.

She had been stifling yawns with difficulty for some time past and feared that a talk about eighteenth century French boats was not likely to keep her awake. She just managed to say her "of course" in tones of conviction.

Sir Evelyn suggested that the party should go to his study, where he could exhibit pictures of chasse-marÉes, some of them actually engaged in smuggling. He had also—Mary struggled desperately against overwhelming sleepiness—books with diagrams, showing the lines on which the boats were built.

A couple of hours later, when Beth and Mary had gone to bed, Sir Evelyn had a conversation with his nephew on a very different subject.

The Earl of Colavon ought to marry. This, in the opinion of the family, was a matter of duty, and the family had no hesitation about speaking its mind. Sir Evelyn and four aunts all spoke their minds plainly and often. Jimmy was becoming heartily sick of the subject. Sir Evelyn talked about "the family," which for the good of society, of England, even of mankind in general, ought not to be allowed to die out. That was not how he put it, but it was exactly what he meant. The aunts went further. After expressing opinions about the value of "the family" very like those of Sir Evelyn, they used to produce suitable ladies, no doubt with the kindly intention of saving their nephew the trouble of looking out for a wife for himself. The ladies were not marshalled in a bevy but thrust on Jimmy's attention one by one, a second taking the place of the first when it became clear that the first was not approved, a third succeeding the second and so on, until the supply of suitable ladies was exhausted. This was not so long a business as might have been expected. There are never at one time very many ladies suitable for the position of Countess—at least, not very many suitable in the opinion of the aunts of the Earl of Colavon.

When there were no more suitable ladies the aunts fell back on a hope that Jimmy would marry someone not entirely unsuitable. They could not produce anyone of this kind because they only associated with people whose daughters were suitable. But they continued to press this view of his duty on their nephew. So did Sir Evelyn. He displayed a great broad-mindedness, going so far as to say that he would be quite ready to welcome even an actress as a niece—an actress of good character and suitable age. The aunts would not, perhaps, have been quite so liberal.

The arrival of Beth Appleby and Mary Lambert in Jimmy's company cheered Sir Evelyn. The girls, if not precisely "suitable" in the full sense of the word, had nice manners, pleasant tempers and good looks. They were plainly on very intimate terms with Lord Colavon, addressing him as Jimmy. Sir Evelyn felt hopeful; but he was puzzled and a little annoyed by the fact that there were two girls and that he was unable to discover that one was preferred to the other.

For some time he skirted round the subject and Jimmy, who guessed what was coming, skilfully slipped away from it. At last Sir Evelyn was reduced to the crude bluntness of approach which all his political training taught him to dislike.

"I can't help wondering——" he said, "I'm sure, my dear boy, that you'll excuse my speaking plainly. I have been wondering all the evening whether you find yourself seriously attracted by either of the charming young ladies who came here with you to-day?"

Jimmy, cornered at last, replied with equal plainness:

"I'm seriously attracted," he said, "by both of them."

"I take it," said Sir Evelyn, "that the idea of marriage with one of them has been present to your mind."

"Never absent from it, Uncle Evie."

"My dear boy, I'm delighted to hear it. Delighted. Now which is it?"

"That," said Jimmy, "is precisely my difficulty. If there was only Mary Lambert and Beth Appleby did not exist, it would be perfectly simple. I'd do my best to marry her; though mind this, Uncle Evie, she might not be willing to marry me. On the other hand, if there was no such person as Mary Lambert I'd make a pretty hard push at marrying Beth Appleby. I'd call myself a jolly lucky fellow to get her, or Mary. That's the situation, and I think you'll agree with me that it's an uncommonly difficult one. I don't see any way out, do you?"

"That," said Sir Evelyn, "is an absurd, even an immoral, way to talk, and I should be seriously angry with you if I thought you meant it. You must be able to make up your mind which of the two you prefer."

"But that's just it," said Jimmy. "I can't. My only hope is that some other fellow will come along and marry one of them. That's what I'm waiting for, and it's bound to happen sooner or later, I should think. Then I'll be all there. If the other fellow marries Beth, I'll have a try at Mary next day. If, on the other hand, he marries Mary——"

"This incurable habit of flippancy," said Sir Evelyn irritably, "appears to be growing on you."

"My dear Uncle Evie, I'm as serious as a judge with a black cap on, and if you like I'll prove that I mean what I say. Suppose you chip in and marry one of them—she might have you if you asked her nicely—I'll give you my word of honour to do my best to marry the other. I call that a fair offer, and you can count on there being no ill feeling afterwards, whichever you take. I shall be perfectly content with the other, always supposing that she will marry me. If she won't, then my part of the business is off. Now what about it?"

Sir Evelyn held out his hand with a gesture of dignified sorrow.

"I think perhaps I'd better say good night to you. There is nothing to be gained by further discussion along these lines."

"Sorry, Uncle Evie, I apologise, grovel, and all that. But hang it all, you know, you ought to be fair. You're everlastingly ragging me about not marrying, and I put up with it like a lamb. But the very minute I so much as hint that you might do it yourself—— After all, you're just as unmarried as I am and have been for double as long; which makes it far worse. You must be able to see that."

In this way Jimmy concealed from an inquisitive uncle the fact that for some months he had been trying to persuade Beth Appleby to marry him and that she had been steadily but quite good-humouredly refusing to do so.