*i*^f 
 
RING FOR NANCY 
 
She was standing with her back to a clrcssing-tabl( 
 
IING FOR NANCY 
 
 R (^MEDY 
 
 FORDJMADOX HUEFFER 
 
 Author o/ 
 
 LADIES WHOSH BRIGHT EYES. KTC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 F. VAUX WILSON 
 
 INDI/ NAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-M RRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright 1913 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
 into 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
 # 
 
 I 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 Dear Miss Ada Potter : 
 
 Since it was historic tragedy which, as you might 
 say, brought us together, accept the dedication of this 
 very unhistoric comedy for which you are so largely 
 responsible. 
 
 Why it should have come Into your head to inspire 
 me to a task obviously so frivolous and one which will 
 draw down upon my head the reprehensions of the great 
 and serious, and the stern disapproval of eminent and 
 various critics, is a matter that lies between yourself and 
 your conscience. But I suppose, in this odd, frequently 
 unpleasant and almost always much too serious world, 
 eveW'^a person so earnest as yourself feels the desire to 
 be made to laugh by an historian so obviously earnest 
 as I am. 
 
 Accept therefore the full responsibilities of this at- 
 tempt to satisfy your demand in the spirit which dictates 
 the offer and believe me. 
 
 Your humble, obliged and obedient servant, 
 
 F. M. H. 
 
 Maim 
 
 ^ 
 
 3958 1'J 
 
RING FOR NANCY 
 
PART I 
 
RING FOR nancy: 
 
 TiJ-AJOR EDWARD BRENT FOSTER, the 
 ^^^ youngest major in the British army, was 
 choosing railway Hterature at the book-stall 
 of the chief departure platform of the terminus 
 of a railway company that ran in a south- 
 western direction out of London. He had, 
 under one arm, a whole sheaf of illustrated 
 journals. For these he had not yet paid. He 
 was looking at the novels that, in a bright col- 
 ored wall, rose up before his dim eyes, when 
 his tired glance wandered toward the entrance 
 from the booking office. He exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, my aunt!" For he had a sense of a 
 lady dressed, as he perceived out of the corner 
 of his eye, in pink voile with an emerald-green 
 dust-cloak. With a quick glance of dismay, 
 in spite of his short-sightedness, he had recog- 
 nized Mrs. Kerr Howe, a by-now obviously 
 marriageable widow, with whom, during the 
 lifetime of her late husband, he had been quite 
 innocently almost too familiar. He thought, 
 however, that he had managed not to convey 
 
 1 
 
2 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 his recognition and he moved swiftly but cir- 
 curaspe.Gtly down the platform. He kept, in- 
 deed, an eye over his shoulder while he at- 
 tempted to hum nonchalantly, and he was 
 aware that Mrs. Kerr Howe was undoubtedly 
 following him. He walked more swiftly — un- 
 der the passenger bridge, past another railway 
 book-stall, past the railway barber's and the 
 railway gimcrack shop. He was, indeed, al- 
 most in the passage that leads to the south- 
 eastern line, and he was wondering if he would 
 ever be able to stop before he reached Ton- 
 bridge or even Calais. Then he ran against a 
 quite girlish figure in very white muslins who 
 had following her a porter burdened with four 
 sorts of dressing-cases. She exclaimed: 
 
 "Teddy Brentr. 
 
 And Major Brent Foster could not help 
 ejaculating: 
 
 "Oh, my uncle!" since these relatives were 
 really in his mind. For this was Miss Flossie 
 Delamare, with whom, three years before, he 
 had been almost more familiar. 
 
 She was fair and quite happy, and if her feat- 
 ures showed traces of having been overpowdered 
 professionally, there was not any doubt that she 
 still had a complexion to lose. And she was so 
 pleasantly glad to see him that Major Brent 
 
RING FOR NANCY 3 
 
 Foster took a desperate resolve. He had slued 
 round to face her, and he was aware out of the 
 corner of his eye that Mrs. Kerr Howe was 
 hovering a little distance away. 
 
 "You've got to save me, Flossie," he said 
 quickly and humorously. "An awful past is 
 after me. I'm not Teddy Brent any more, and 
 I am a reformed character." 
 
 Miss Delamare took on a slightly injured — 
 nay, it occurred to him that it was a very hurt 
 air. 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," she said, "I'm not part of 
 your awful past ! If you don't want to be Teddy 
 Brent to me, you can be the Reverend Jonas 
 Whale, though it's not like you, Teddy." 
 
 He was aware that Mrs. Kerr Howe, brought 
 up by this conversation, was moving regretfully 
 back to the main line platform. 
 
 "Oh, keep talking, Flossie, darling!" he ex- 
 claimed. "Keep talking! The cloud's rolling 
 by! I am a reformed character — but it's roll- 
 ing by." 
 
 "Teddy," she said, "I don't believe you need 
 — that you ever needed to be a reformed char- 
 acter.'* 
 
 "Oh, but I am," he asseverated with an air 
 that was partly earnest and partly humorous. 
 "I don't drink when anybody's looking, and 
 
4 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 only between meals, anyhow. And I don't 
 smoke when any one can smell it. And as for 
 . . . that sort of thing . . ." 
 
 She said, "Well.^" interestedly. 
 
 "Oh, well," he sighed, "of course, there's 
 Olympia — Olympia Peabody that I'm engaged 
 to. And that doesn't leave any smell. I mean 
 
 "You mean," she said, "that it does not mat- 
 ter — who's looking or whether it's between 
 meals or at them. And it's not much fun. And 
 we're all getting older and wiser. . . . That sort 
 of disagreeable thing. . . . Now, at Simla . . . 
 at Simla . . ." She suddenly turned upon her 
 porter. "Look here," she exclaimed, "I shall 
 miss my train. Go and put my things in a first 
 — an empty first smoker. I want to be alone. 
 Tell the guard, Miss Flossie Delamare." 
 
 The porter said, "Yes, miss," and lurched 
 away beneath all her dressing-cases. 
 
 "And you . . . you're as famous as all that?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "As all what?" she said. 
 
 "That every guard knows your name?" 
 
 "Oh, is that all?" she said. "Why, every 
 Anabaptist minister knows my name." 
 
 Major Brent Foster raised his eyebrows in- 
 terrogatively. "Anabaptist?" he asked. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 5 
 
 "Oh, particularly !" she said. "Fve been caus- 
 ig trouble in that camp." 
 
 Conscious of a minute pang of something re- 
 
 imbling jealousy, he said: "Of course, you 
 would cause trouble in that camp. Now, I've 
 got an uncle who's an Anabaptist — a Post Ana- 
 baptist. . . ." 
 
 "My old Johnnie's a Post Anabaptist, too," 
 Miss Delamare said. 
 
 "Well, that's all right, that's all right," Major 
 Brent Foster exclaimed touchily. "Those are 
 your private affairs. I've got to catch my 
 train," and he moved off toward the platform. 
 She walked beside him. 
 
 "You know, Teddy," she said rather plain- 
 tively, "you're very funny to-day. You're not 
 a bit like your old Irish self. You're not a bit 
 even like a gentleman." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all!" he exclaimed. "No, I'm 
 not a bit like my old Irish self. I'm not even 
 a gentleman. I tell you I'm a reformed char- 
 acter." 
 
 She opened resignedly her immense reticule, 
 which was made of brown canvas sewn over 
 with silver lace, black pearls and red coral. 
 She produced a large white card. 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," she said, "here's my ad- 
 dress. Come and see me one day next week." 
 
6 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 He gave a start back as if the card had been 
 red-hot. 
 
 "My God, no!'* he exclaimed. "I shall be in 
 the country all next week. I never call on any- 
 body. I shut myself up. I work, I tell you. I 
 read the complete works of Henry James. 
 That's why I'm the youngest major in the Brit- 
 ish army." 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," she said, "you're very 
 funny. Almost as funny as you used to be in 
 the old days. Only in another way. Don't 
 you remember Simla . . . and the pucka 
 drives? . . . Don't look so miserable! Pm not 
 your awful past. I'm not going to upset Miss 
 Olympia Peabody. I guess that's your awful 
 past waiting for you under the foot-bridge." 
 
 He gave an agitated glance toward those 
 shadows. Sure enough, though to him she was 
 nothing but a blur of gay colors, beneath the 
 foot-bridge, there was the emerald-green tulle 
 dust-cloak and the immense black hat with the 
 pink roses of Mrs. Kerr Howe. 
 
 Major Brent Foster clutched the wrist of 
 Miss Delamare. 
 
 "Oh, stop with me, Flossie," he said; "stop 
 with me! She won't come near me while you 
 are here." 
 
 "I'll stop with you," she said. "I'll stop with 
 
RING FOR NANCY 7 
 
 you as long as you like, old boy. That's to 
 say, I'm traveling by the six forty-eight, so I 
 shall have to leave you and cut at six forty- 
 six." 
 
 "I'm traveling by the six forty-eight, too," he 
 answered; and then he exclaimed: "Look here, 
 Flossie, Mrs. Kerr Howe isn't really my awful 
 past. I haven't got an awful past at all. Only 
 a damned beastly unpleasant past. Dust and 
 ashes — that's what has crocked up my poor 
 eyes — and alkali wells in Somaliland." 
 
 Miss Delamare said rather viciously: "Oh, 
 we always knew, even in Simla, that it had got 
 its little girl waiting for it with trusting eyes 
 in a little parsonage. But we didn't know that 
 its little girl's little name was Olymnia. I 
 shouldn't care to waste twelve years — not for 
 an Olympia. I'd have my little horse show in 
 between the big meetings." 
 
 "I don't in the least understand you," Major 
 Brent Foster said. 
 
 "Of course, you wouldn't!" she said. "Being 
 so long out of England and studying; for the 
 staff college exam, and all." 
 
 "What I want you to understand," he an- 
 swered, "is that Mrs. Kerr Howe is not an aw- 
 ful past. She's just a burr. She's a sticker. 
 That's what she is. And as she is got up in 
 
8 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 pink and green, and her husband's been dead 
 eighteen months, it's a sign that she's danger- 
 ous." 
 
 "Well, I seem to be dangerous, too," Miss 
 Delamare said plaintively. 
 
 "Oh, you're dangerous in another way," Ma- 
 ijor Brent Foster said earnestly. "Don't you 
 see, she's a black draft: you're a little spoon- 
 ful of jam. That's the difference. She's re- 
 morse: you're temptation. That's the differ- 
 ence, too." I 
 
 "Well, now, Teddy, that's decent of you," she 
 said. "I'll forgive you miles and miles for that 
 ■■ — and leave you to your Olympia." 
 
 She looked up the platform; they were stand- 
 ing in front of the other book-stall, just near 
 the gimcrack shop. 
 
 "Mrs. Kerr Howe," she said, "seems to have 
 given up the game, so I can go and find my 
 seat. Of course, it's a privilege to have been 
 allowed to gaze on Mrs. Kerr Howe even from 
 a distance." 
 
 "Why the devil should it be?" he asked. i 
 
 "Well, you did entertain angels unawares — 
 in Simla," she mocked at him. "There you 
 had me — and ain't I the top notch of musical 
 comedy? And there you had Mrs. Kerr Howe, 
 and isn't she the greatest and most popular 
 novelist the world has even seen?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 9 
 
 "I didn't know," Major Brent Foster said in- 
 nocently; "but, of course, I'm awfully glad, 
 Flossie. You used to be rather a starved little 
 rat — in Simla." 
 I "So I was, Teddy," she said, "and you were 
 pretty good to me. I shan't forget it. Good- 
 by, old Teddy. I expect you'll be a sidesman 
 and take round the plate before we meet 
 again." 
 
 She moved away up the platform, and Major 
 Brent Foster remained looking at the book- 
 stall. The name "Juliana Kerr Howe" met his 
 eye at least twenty-seven times. There was 
 Pink Passion, by Juliana Kerr Howe, with the 
 picture of a lady in a pink nightgown. There 
 was All for Love, by Juliana Kerr Howe, with 
 the gilt design of a pierced heart and a broken 
 globe on the cover. There was a lady's weekly 
 periodical with the inscription in purple let- 
 ters, ''The Lonely Girl. Read about her in- 
 side. By Juliana Kerr Howe." 
 
 Major Brent Foster exclaimed, "My God!" 
 in an appalled manner. Then he suddenly at- 
 tacked the small boy who was sitting behind 
 the stall. 
 
 "Do you mean to say," he said, and in his 
 agitation the trace of an Irish accent became 
 audible in his voice, "do you mean to say that 
 you haven't got a single book of James'?" 
 
10 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Never heard the name/' the book-stall boy- 
 said. *'But there's plenty of novels by Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe." 
 
 *That kelch!" Major Foster exclaimed. "I 
 tell you, it was reading the books of James 
 that made me the youngest major in the Brit- 
 ish army. You tell all your customers that." 
 
 And then extraordinary things happened to 
 Major Brent Foster. It began with the soft 
 crawling voice of Mrs. Kerr Howe that ex- 
 claimed at his elbow: 
 
 "Captain Edward Brent!" 
 
 He spun round and exclaimed: "Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe, by all that's wonderful! I was just buy- 
 ing all your books !" 
 
 And almost simultaneously he heard from 
 behind his back the voice of Miss Flossie Dela- 
 mare saying plaintively, "Teddy, dear, there's 
 something I want to say to you. I don't want 
 you to think I am any worse than I am." 
 
 There was also the gruff voice of the clerk 
 at the first book-stall remarking: 
 
 "You haven't paid for them magazines." 
 
 Major Brent Foster spun round on his heel 
 once more. Mrs. Kerr Howe walked frostily 
 up the platform, and Miss Delamare gazed 
 after her with spiteful glee. 
 
 "I'm watching over you, Teddy, all right!" 
 she laughed. "I watched that cat of a woman. 
 
"Q^f go away!" Major Brent Fosici exclaimed 
 
RING FOR NANCY 11 
 
 She was hiding on the other side of the steps 
 of the bridge. And the moment she saw me 
 leave you she sailed down. Did you see her 
 draw her skirts together as I came up? She 
 was afraid I was going to defile her. Her! 
 Who writes books called A Maid and No Maid, 
 I should be ashamed!" 
 
 "You're a regular brick/' Major Foster ex- 
 claimed. They had walked a little way from 
 the book-stall. The voice of the first clerk 
 came in a sort of chorus: 
 
 "You haven't paid for them magazines. 
 Three and fourpence." 
 
 "Not but what," Miss Delamare continued, 
 "I wasn't speaking the truth when I said that I 
 had something to tell you. It's true that I 
 don't want to let you think that I am worse 
 than I am. Now this old Johnnie — this Ana- 
 baptist that I was speaking of. I don't want 
 you to think — to think that I'm . . ." — she 
 brought it out — "living with him." 
 
 "Three and fourpence," the book-stall clerk 
 remarked. "You come to my stall and you 
 took three and fourpence worth of papers and 
 you never paid for them." 
 
 "Oh, go away!" Major Brent Foster ex- 
 claimed, and he pushed his elbow into the 
 book-stall clerk's chest. He continued to Miss 
 Delamare: 
 
12 RING FOR NANCY . 
 
 "I'm awfully glad to hear it, old girl. I al- 
 ways warned you against that sort of thing. 
 It doesn't pay!" 
 
 "If you don't pay that three and fourpence 
 . . ." the clerk chimed in. 
 
 "It's like this, Teddy," Miss Delamare said 
 in a sort of whisper of confession. And then 
 she suddenly raised her voice quite high. 
 "Aren't you going to kiss me, Teddy?" she 
 exclaimed. "Not a good-by kiss if we part 
 forever?" Her voice was a fine wail. But this 
 itime Mrs. Kerr Howe, who had returned, was 
 not to be driven off. 
 
 "I only want to tell Captain Brent," she said 
 in her sweetest and most crawling tones, "that 
 I shall be in the special carriage that his uncle 
 has reserved for his guests. There is only five 
 minutes before the train starts." 
 
 "I'll come and find you," Major Brent Foster 
 said. "I just want a word with my sister." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe answered meaningly: 
 
 "Then I won't intrude." She added, "A 
 tantotf' languishing, and really went away. 
 
 The book-stall clerk remarked: "I shall have 
 to fetch an ofBcer." 
 
 Major Brent Foster burst into the most vio- 
 lent oaths. 
 
 "That woman!" he screamed, "going to my 
 
•RING FOR NANCY 13 
 
 uncle's! In the same carriage with me! How 
 does she know my uncle? How does she know 
 I've got an uncle?" 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," Miss Delamare said, 
 "every one's got an uncle. Even I've got one 
 real one. And there are hundreds of Johnnies 
 who have offered to be uncles to me. But I've 
 done my best for you. You'll have to see it 
 through now. And what I wanted to explain 
 is this . . ." 
 
 "I'm going to fetch an officer now," the 
 book-stall clerk exclaimed, and he went away. 
 
 "You know, Teddy," Miss Delamare said, 
 "you'd better pay that man." 
 
 Major Brent Foster exclaimed violently: 
 "Oh, hell!" Then he fumbled in his waist- 
 coat pocket and pitched half a sovereign on to 
 the book-stall. After the half-sovereign he 
 pitched the papers themselves. The boy began 
 to scramble among his literature for his coin. 
 
 "Now, that's like the old dear Teddy," Miss 
 Delamare said. He had hooked his hand into 
 her arm and was drawing her away up the 
 platform. "That's more like you — to chuck 
 away half a sov. and not to wait for the 
 change." 
 
 "I'm ruined, anyhow, if Mrs. Kerr Howe is 
 going to my uncle's," he answered vindictively. 
 
14 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Poor old Teddy!" Miss Delamare said with 
 a note of commiseration. And then she con- 
 tinued swiftly: "But what I wanted to tell you 
 was this — about how I came to get in with 
 those people. You know, somewhere up in the 
 north of London there are a lot of rich Non- 
 conformists. People with hothouses and 
 peaches, and being aldermen and so on. And 
 I've got a chum — Lottie Charles. And Lottie 
 Charles was precious down on her luck, and 
 the North London Congregations had started 
 a Society for the Reform of the Stage. And 
 Lottie, as she couldn't get anything in the 
 world to do, used to walk before them once a 
 week as an awful example — you know the sort 
 of thing. 
 
 "So one day Lottie Charles came to me, 
 and she says it would be doing her no end of 
 a good turn if I would come and pose, too. 
 Well, of course, I've nothing against doing any- 
 thing in the world to oblige an old chum. She 
 and me were on the old North Circuit. Roomed 
 it and ate off the same old red herring together. 
 So, of course, I said I'd do it. But it did not 
 suit me to be wept over and pawed by a lot of 
 Nonconformists, so I said I'd read them a lec- 
 ture on The Real Reform of the Stage. Of 
 course, I don't know anything about reforms; 
 
RING FOR NANCY 15 
 
 the stage is all right as long as you're jolly 
 well on the top. 
 
 **But IVe got another pal — Robin, his name 
 is — a dramatic critic. Awful prim and respect- 
 able chap; always with an umbrella. But he 
 writes articles about me that bring the tears 
 to your eyes; he says I'm the symphonic em- 
 bodiment of quaint imbecility, and as such 
 have my worth. I learned the words by heart, 
 though what they mean passes me. So up I 
 goes to Robin on the first night of Pigs is Pigs, 
 and I just asked him point-blank to write the 
 lecture for me — on the real reform of the 
 stage. And, tvhat's more, he did it. So I 
 learned it by heart, and I just slung it at 
 those Johnnies. My! you should have heard 
 me. Cheer? I don't think! Cry at the pa- 
 thetic passages? Not half they did not. . . . 
 But it was the fine lecture and all. The stage! 
 The stage was to regenerate the people's mor- 
 als. It was to replace the old pulpit. It was 
 to fill the minds of the unthinking with thought ! 
 My goodness me, I never heard such talk! 
 But I slung it at them in a sort of awful 
 mournful voice, like Mrs. Pat's. You know! 
 . . . And the end of it is that the old chap 
 who was the chairman, and a millionaire, and 
 a Common Councilman — that old chap is never 
 
16 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 out of my diggings. And his missus, too, you 
 understand. There's nothing underhand about 
 it. His missus likes me as much as he does, 
 and more. Like a mother she is. And I'm go- 
 ing down now to stop at their country house. 
 . . . But the long and short of it is that the 
 old chap is building a theater for me. And 
 we're going to put on the weirdest sort of old 
 reforming plays. And I've got a ten years' 
 contract, and that critic man is to be general 
 •manager. So I'm provided for, Teddy, old boy. 
 It's a funny world." 
 
II 
 
 TiyrAJOR BRENT FOSTER was not, how- 
 ^^^ ever, paying much attention to his com- 
 panion. As they approached the train he ob- 
 served Miss Delamare's porter standing at 
 the door of one first-class carriage. At the 
 door of the next was Mrs. Kerr Howe, and the 
 compartment beside which she stood was la- 
 beled "Reserved." The book-stall clerk was 
 speaking to a railway policeman at the door of 
 the booking office. Miss Delamare walked 
 straight to the door of her compartment; she 
 held out her peachy pink cheek, and remarked: 
 
 "Ain't you really going to kiss me, Teddy — 
 for old time's sake?" And there was such a 
 plaintive tone in her voice that, with a fierce 
 determination, he stretched out his lips. But 
 she just laughed and jumped into her carriage. 
 
 "Keep it for the horse show," she said. 
 
 He was by now in a temper that made him 
 ready to face Mrs. Kerr Howe and half a dozen 
 devils, so that he marched straight upon the 
 reserved compartment. But again his heart 
 failed. He was ready to face the lady and sev- 
 
 17 
 
18 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 eral devils. Facing her alone was another mat- 
 ter. And the compartment was empty! 
 
 At that moment he perceived a rather dia- 
 bolical-looking old gentleman in a fur coat, 
 though it was June, and a soft, curious felt hat. 
 The old gentleman, accompanied by a guard 
 and a porter, was obviously looking for a first- 
 class carriage. And Major Brent Foster 
 chanced his luck. He did not know the old 
 gentleman from Adam, but he exclaimed: 
 
 "Come along, Sir Arthur. Glad to see you. 
 Get in here, and let's travel together. It's a 
 long time since we met." 
 
 The old gentleman seemed haughtily puz- 
 zled. But the carriage was comfortably empty, 
 and the major had already pushed in the por- 
 ter, bags and all. And immediately he was in 
 the midst of a scene. There was Miss Dela- 
 mare laughing out of her window. There was 
 the guard with his flag, lingering, as if to give 
 the finishing touches to his train. There was 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe just getting in. And then 
 suddenly the voice of the book-stall clerk ex- 
 claimed: 
 
 "OfBcer, arrest that man for theft." 
 
 Major Brent Foster got into the carriage, 
 and treading on the old gentleman's toes as 
 he turned, exclaimed: 
 
 9 
 
I RING FOR NANCY 19 
 
 "Go away! I haven't got your magazines." 
 
 "You've disposed of them to an accomplice," 
 the book-stall clerk cried out. 
 
 "I paid half a sovereign for them," the 
 major exclaimed good-naturedly. 
 
 "Not at my stall," the clerk said. 
 
 "No, of course not," the major said. "I 
 never do pay at the stall v^here I buy them. 
 It's the only way to keep a check on you fel- 
 lows. I'm a shareholder." 
 
 The guard suggested that it was time; the 
 railway policeman, who had said that he had 
 no powers to arrest, suggested that the gentle- 
 man might leave his name and address. The 
 major called out: "Major Brent I^oster, the 
 Manor, Basildon, Hants," and the train moved 
 on. The major sank down in the seat opposite 
 the old gentleman, and exclaimed: "What a 
 day!" \, 
 
 Almost at the same moment Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 exclaimed: "So you've changed your name, 
 Teddy." 
 
 And the old man said violently: "Who are 
 you, sir? I don't know your name, sir! What 
 is the meaning of this outrage?" 
 
 "Of course, I changed my name," the major 
 explained first to Mrs. Kerr Howe. "My old 
 name wasn't popular. It stunk in my uncle's 
 
20 . RING FOR NANCY 
 
 nostrils. I changed it on the day I was engaged 
 to Olympia." Then he turned mildly on the 
 old gentleman. "That's probably why you do 
 not recognize my name. I used to be called 
 Edward Brent." 
 
 "Fm not a connoisseur of unsavory names," 
 the old gentleman said bitterly. *T presume 
 you're a groom?" 
 
 "Now I don't see why you should presume 
 that," the major said. 
 
 "You say you're engaged at Olympia," the 
 old man said. "I can not imagine any one but 
 grooms being engaged there." 
 
 The major exclaimed, "Oh!" And then he 
 said, "That's what you all mean. The fact is, 
 I've been out of England for so long — put away, 
 as you might say, and working like a nigger to 
 get through — that I can't be expected to recog- 
 nize these topical matters. Of course, Olympia 
 is a horse show. That's what Flossie meant!" 
 He looked at Mrs. Kerr Howe as if for confirm- 
 ation, and then he added, "Of course, Sir 
 Arthur, I said I was engaged not at, but to, 
 Olympia — Miss Olympia Peabody, of Boston 
 State Reformatory." 
 
 The old gentleman positively shivered. 
 
 "I'm not losing my nerve," he said, "I never 
 lost my nerve in my life, but all this has a very 
 
RING FOR NANCY 21 
 
 criminal sound. Be good enough to explain, or 
 I shall certainly pull the alarm cord." 
 
 "But, my dear Sir Arthur . . " Major Brent 
 Foster exclaimed. 
 
 "How do you know my name?" the old 
 gentleman asked sharply. He had a very hale 
 and hearty face, with red cheek-bones, a white 
 beard, a savage black mustache and savage 
 black eyebrows. 
 
 "As if I did not know your face," the major 
 said, and he wondered amiably who the old 
 gentleman could be in the world. "Wasn't 
 your photograph on the study desk of my best 
 chum Toppy at Harrow?" 
 
 "It certainly wasn't," the old gentleman said. 
 "I do not know any individual of the name of 
 Toppy. You trepan me into the compartment 
 of yourself and your female companion. The 
 first thing I hear is that you are accused of 
 theft. You stamp upon my toes, and announce 
 that you have changed your name because it is 
 unsavory to your relatives. You certainly ap- 
 pear to know my name. But there is nothing 
 astonishing about that, for in these curiosity- 
 mongering times my face is constantly appear- 
 ing in the public press." 
 
 "Oh, I say," Major Brent Foster said guile- 
 lessly, "there's nothing curious about your face. 
 
22 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 It's rather a fine face, if you'll excuse my saying 
 so. 
 
 Major Brent Foster was upon the whole 
 happy, for the longer he could keep up any 
 sort of talk with this mysterious Sir Arthur, the 
 longer he could stave off a private explanation 
 with Mrs. Kerr Howe. Sir Arthur blushed with 
 fury, and his eyes positively sparkled. 
 
 "I did not mean," he said, "that my face is 
 a curiosity, as if it were, what I believe it is the 
 custom to call, a freak. I meant that, as I enjoy 
 a certain celebrity, my face is frequently repro- 
 duced in the press." 
 
 "But that only means," Major Brent Foster 
 said amiably, "that the press is doing its duty. 
 It inspirits us nobodies to know what our lead- 
 ers look like." 
 
 Sir Arthur appeared modified in his course 
 of rage. 
 
 "Understand me," he said, "if the press con- 
 fined itself to the portrayal of leaders of thought, 
 there would be little to complain of." 
 
 "Now that was what I was just saying to 
 my little friend, Miss Flossie Delamare," the 
 major invented boldly. "She is in the next com- 
 partment because she was too shy to come into 
 such distinguished society as that of you and 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 23 
 
 The old gentleman raised both his hands in an 
 attitude of tragic horror; but Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 said eagerly: 
 
 *'You're such a consummate liar, Teddy, that 
 there^s never a chance to know what you do 
 mean. But if that was Miss Flossie Delamare, 
 why in the world did you not bring her in 
 here?" 
 
 The major did not in the least understand 
 where he was getting to. 
 
 "I don't see why a great writer like you 
 should want to know a poor little thing like 
 Flossie," he said. "But, at any rate, she was 
 too modest. She's a retiring little thing." 
 
 *'You said she was your sister," Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe remarked sweetly. 
 
 "So she is," the major said pleasantly; "a 
 sort of half-sister. Only, of course, it's a pain- 
 ful subject, and it would not be quite kind to 
 mention it, you understand. You understand. 
 But still, she's my oldest woman friend." 
 
 "It's strange you never mentioned her at 
 Simla," Mrs. Howe said. "Don't you remember 
 Simla and the pucka drives? And you never 
 once mentioned her name." 
 
 "Of course, I should not," the major said; 
 "that's only her stage name. Besides, at that 
 time we had quarreled. I should not have been 
 
 -H 
 
 O 
 
24 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 likely to mention her name. It was a deadly 
 quarrel — about her being on the stage." 
 
 *'I suppose it was the same old quarrel going 
 on just now?" Mrs. Kerr Howe asked. 
 
 "But we weren't quarreling," the major an- 
 swered. *'We're the best of friends. If I were 
 not going to marry Olympia, I don't see that I 
 could do better than marry Flossie." 
 
 "Your half-sister!" Mrs. Howe uttered. 
 
 "You're awfully unimaginative for a writer," 
 the major said. "What I mean is that if I were 
 not going to marry Olympia, I should have 
 little Flossie to keep house for me. She's the 
 best and kind-heartedest and stanchest little thing 
 in the world. That's how I feel." 
 
 "And I'm sure," Mrs. Howe said, "it does 
 your fraternal feelings credit. But that does not 
 explain how you come to be parting for good. 
 For I heard her ask you to kiss her for that 
 reason." 
 
 "Oh, you're a perfect fool sometimes, my dear 
 Juliana," the major said. "Of course we are on 
 the best terms in the world. And of course we 
 have to part for good. It explains itself. How 
 can I have an unexplained half-sister going 
 about with me when I am going to marry 
 Olympia? It's a ridiculous idea. Think of the 
 discredit it would cast on my family." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 25 
 
 Sir Arthur began suddenly to speak, and the 
 major heaved a sigh of relief. He would just as 
 soon — being Irish ! — lie as not. But Mrs. Howe 
 was a little w^earying. 
 
 "My young friend," the old man said, "I begin 
 to understand that you are not, as I at first con- 
 sidered you, a criminal. You stand up for your 
 humble relation in a way that is quite creditable 
 in this immoral and thoughtless age. But you 
 will oblige me by kindly explaining where you 
 have met me before, and who Toppy is — the 
 gentleman who used to have my likeness on 
 his desk." 
 
 Major Brent Foster heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 "I used to meet you at the admiral's balls at 
 Portsmouth," he said succinctly, "and Toppy 
 was the nickname of your son Arthur at Har- 
 row. He was my room-mate." 
 
 "And pray who am I, then?" Sir Arthur 
 asked. 
 
 "You !" the major said guilelessly. "You are 
 Rear-admiral Sir Arthur Bowles." The old 
 gentleman had such a martial air that the major 
 thought he was safe to put him in one or the 
 other of the services — more probably in the 
 navy, because of his beard. The old gentleman 
 raised both of his hands to heaven. 
 
 "I," he said, "I am Sir Arthur Johnson, the 
 
26 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 president of the First Church of Christ Quietist 
 in London." 
 
 "Well, it's a most extraordinary world I've 
 come back to," the major sighed. "Everybody 
 I have met since I left Somaliland, is a reformer 
 of something. There's Olympia. She's the hon- 
 orary secretary of the Massachusetts Reforma- 
 tory, and perpetual grand mistress of the Bos- 
 ton Society for the Abolition of Vice. There's 
 my aunt that I'm going to, dear old soul, who 
 knows about as much of evil as an egg knows 
 of aeroplanes, and she's the secretary of the 
 Society for the Suppression of Sin. Now what 
 are you reforming, Juliana?" 
 
 "I?" Mrs. Kerr Howe said. "I am the presi- 
 dent of the Society for Abolishing Conventional 
 Marriage." 
 
 "My God!" the major said, "I guess you're 
 cut out for the part. But I'm hanged if the 
 only person that I know that isn't the president 
 of something or other isn't my old humbug of 
 an uncle, and yet you'd say he was just cut out 
 for the part. Why even Flossie, little Flossie, 
 is something of the sort. She's the only woman 
 on the stage who looks anything than a stuffed 
 fiddle in tights — and she's going to be the first 
 manager of a show for the reform of the the-^ 
 
RING FOR NANCY 27 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe leaned forward from her 
 corner to say as clearly as possible: 
 
 ''It's your uncle who is the founder of the 
 National Society for Theater Reform. It's he 
 who is going to build the theater for Miss Dela- 
 mare." 
 
 The major sank down in his seat, all crumpled 
 together as if he had fallen from a great height. 
 
 *7ust heaven!" he said: "then my uncle and 
 aunt are the respectable couple that Flossie said 
 she was going to visit. Then she's travehng 
 down with us. She ought to have been in this 
 carriage." 
 
 "I wish she had been," Mrs. Kerr Howe said 
 sweetly. *T most particularly want to talk to 
 her." 
 
 "More than you want to talk to me?" the 
 major asked. 
 
 "Oh, of course, I shall have to have an ex- 
 planation with you before the day is out," Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe said grimly. "I certainly intend to 
 have one. But I want a regular — what you 
 might call — heart talk with Miss Delamare be- 
 fore she gets down to your uncle." 
 
 "About" — the major rather gasped — "about 
 things r' 
 
 "Of course, about things," Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 said; "about the most important things in the 
 
28 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 world. I want to point out to Miss Delamare 
 that you can't reform the theater without re- 
 forming the conventional idea about marriage. 
 I want a play I've written to be the very first 
 that she puts on at the Reformed Theater. This 
 is not self-seeking on my part — it's the most im- 
 portant thing in the world, the reform of con- 
 ventional marriage." 
 
 "Oh, I see," the major said amiably, "you 
 want to nobble her before she makes any busi- 
 ness arrangements with my uncle." He paused 
 and remained lost in thought. But Sir Arthur 
 Johnson was anxious to explain his position. 
 
 "I am anxious to explain my position," he 
 said, "so that there may not be any mistake 
 about it." 
 
 "I am sure it will be extremely interesting," 
 the major said politely. 
 
 "I am not in the habit," the president of the 
 Quietist Church continued, "of entering into 
 conversation with strangers in a railway car- 
 riage. I never lose my temper — that is the 
 great lesson that Quietism teaches us. No, I 
 never lose my temper. But when you stamped 
 very hard upon my toes, that, I must confess, 
 induced in me what we are accustomed to call 
 a marked quickening of ideas. That, you see, is 
 quite different from losing one's temper. From 
 
RING FOR NANCY 29 
 
 the fact that you have dragged me into this car- 
 riage, stamped upon my toes, mentioned that 
 you have changed a discreditable name and had, 
 what I took to be, an engagement in a place 
 frequented by grooms, horsey people and the 
 criminal classes generally — from all these facts 
 together I imagined that you yourself were 
 either a groom or a member of a horsey and 
 criminal class. I imagined that, knowing that I 
 was the head of an advanced and wealthy body, 
 you imagined that I carried about with me in 
 my hand-baggage, which you had observed to 
 be very heavy, the funds of the church of which 
 I am the head." 
 
 *'So that there we all, in a manner of speak- 
 ing, are," the major astonishingly remarked. 
 
 "I don't take you," Sir Arthur said frostily. 
 
 "Oh, that's a way I've got," the major said, 
 "from studying the works of Henry James. His 
 characters are perpetually remarking *so that 
 there, in a manner of speaking, we are.' And, 
 of course, as you can never make out where 
 they are, it's extraordinarily strengthening to 
 the brain to work it out. That's why I'm the 
 youngest major in the British army." 
 
 "I don't see what all that has to do with me," 
 Sir Arthur said frostily. "What I have to do is 
 to make my position quite plain to you. When 
 
30 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 I considered that you and your female com- 
 panion were dangerous criminals intent on steal- 
 ing from me the contents of my very heavy lug- 
 gage, I at once matured a plan. That is one of 
 the great benefits of Quietism that, instead of 
 letting your thoughts waste themselves on use- 
 less anger, they are quickened. I immediately 
 matured a plan. I said to myself, these are 
 dangerous robbers, intent on obtaining the con- 
 tents of my luggage. What I have to do is, be- 
 fore they come to any actual deed of violence, 
 to let them understand that the contents of my 
 bags consist of nothing but works of reference 
 — every kind of work of reference, but nothing 
 else." 
 
 "Now that's extraordinarily interesting," the 
 major said. "I suppose you toughen your brain 
 on works of reference, just as I do mine on the 
 works of the author to whom I can never be 
 sufficiently grateful. Now I wonder," he con- 
 tinued, "if your sort of literature has the same 
 effect on your mind as mine has on mine? I 
 mean that I can't possibly read any book in 
 which the characters aren't always saying *so 
 there, in a manner of speaking, we are.' It's 
 like a craze — a sort of infection. Nothing else 
 seems really to amuse me. And I dare say it's 
 the same with you. I mean, I suppose you 
 
RING FOR NANCY 31 
 
 can*t read anything that doesn't look like, *Den- 
 mark, pop. 8,000,742. King constitutional. Cap. 
 Cit. Copenhagen. . . .' That's the sort of 
 thing that you get in works of reference." 
 
 "I don't know about that," Sir Arthur said 
 haughtily; "but I certainly can not read the 
 cryptic, morbid and unpleasant stuff that in the 
 present day passes for literature." 
 
 ".Well, of course," the major said, "here, in a 
 manner of speaking — I mean, that accounts for 
 it all. It's been an extraordinary privilege and 
 pleasure, getting to know you. The moment I 
 saw you, I knew^ you to be some one command- 
 ing. There couldn't be the least mistake about 
 that. I thought you were Vice-admiral Sir 
 Arthur Bowles. . . ." 
 
 "You said Rear-admiral just now," Sir Ar- 
 thur said. 
 
 "Rear-admiral Sir Arthur Bowles," the major 
 continued, undisturbed, "because, of course, an 
 admiral in his own fleet is a sort of pope. And 
 the moment I saw your, if you will pardon my 
 saying so, noble head, I knew you were a sort 
 of pope. And you are. You are the head of a 
 church. I was perfectly right in wanting your 
 company. It will, in a manner of speaking, pur- 
 ify the whole day, and be a memory to retain 
 till the end of one's life." 
 
32 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Sir Arthur Johnson appeared visibly flattered. 
 He stroked his white beard, touched with his 
 gloved hands his blue-black mustache, and his 
 blue-black and formidable eyebrows assumed a 
 mollified turn. 
 
 "Then let that be the end of it," he said. "I 
 was about to address some further remarks to 
 you. But they would probably strike you un- 
 pleasantly. Of course I have not the least ob- 
 jection to being unpleasant if it would be for 
 your good, but at the end of this journey we 
 shall part, and you are probably hardened in 
 what I am bound to call your evil courses." 
 
 "Well, you speak straight, and no mistake," 
 the major said. 
 
 "I do," Sir Arthur answered, "and if you 
 would kindly remove yourself to the other end 
 of the carriage, opposite your companion, I may 
 be able to resume the studies that you have in- 
 terrupted." 
 
 The major humbly got up and humbly sat 
 down opposite Mrs. Kerr Howe. The train con- 
 tinued on its way; the old gentleman arose and, 
 a fierce and martial figure in his fur cloak, he 
 began to take a great quantity of red and blue 
 and green books out of a large leather kit-bag. 
 These he laid upon the seat in front of him, 
 where the major had vacated it. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 33 
 
 ^'Extraordinary sort of clay this," the major 
 remarked to Mrs. Kerr Howe. 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe said nothing, and for a mo- 
 ment there was a tranquillity that even Major 
 Brent Foster — though he loved a scrap — consid- 
 ered blessed. Mrs. Kerr Howe was looking out 
 of the window, and he considered her carefully. 
 If he was going to spend at his uncle's several 
 days, weeks, or months in the society of Mrs. 
 Howe, of Flossie Delamare and of his fiancee, 
 Miss Peabody, who was not in her first youth — 
 being six years older than the major — and in 
 consequence was not too certain of her charms, 
 w^ell, he would certainly need to know how the 
 land lay. 
 
 It was an extraordinary muddle. There was 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe; there could not be the least 
 doubt about her charms. Olympia certainly 
 would not doubt them — ^and the major sighed, 
 because, of course, from duty and inclination, he 
 had to consider Olympia first. 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe was little and dimpled to a 
 degree that the major hardly believed credible. 
 It struck him as a sort of false pretenses. She 
 ought to be fluffy-minded, clinging and affection- 
 ate; so at least he had imagined her to be in 
 the first days at Simla, where she had come in 
 the train — as a sort of guest — of the viceroy's 
 
34 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 wife. In those days he had been lonely, rottenly 
 poor, four years younger, and twenty-four years 
 gayer and more irresponsible that he was even 
 then. And Mrs. Kerr Howe had trotted about 
 with him, little and dimples and all. She had 
 even read her novels to him — sloppy novels that 
 she turned out at the rate of one a fortnight, 
 each one containing a lady like Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 — a sentimental lady who went extraordinarily 
 "wrong". At that date she had not been able 
 to find a publisher for any one of them, though 
 she had paid to publish two. 
 
 And little by little he had discovered, even at 
 Simla, that in that little dimpled body there 
 dwelt the spirit of a six-foot grenadier. She 
 knew what she wanted, and she was extraordi- 
 narily set on getting it. And one of the things 
 that she wanted, it had appeared, was Captain 
 Edward Brent. There was not a doubt about 
 that. 
 
 He really had not done much. He might 
 have taken her for a drive half a dozen times; 
 he had listened to four or five of her novels — it 
 was true that when she had come to the gurgly 
 love passages she had always gazed into his 
 eyes, but that was not his fault. He had taken 
 her to the Swanston pony races, and almost 
 beggared himself over it, since he hadn^t a pice 
 
RING FOR NANCY 35 
 
 but his captain's pay. He had certainly com- 
 miserated with her over the singularly brutal 
 letters that her husband had written her. Her 
 husband had been a disagreeable invalid, and 
 she had come to India strongly against his will 
 while he remained at home. He had sat with 
 her half a dozen times looking at the sunset 
 from Dawson's Tea Gardens through the deo- 
 dars — a remote spot that was pretty solitary, 
 because few of the Simla people knew of its ex- 
 istence. But up to the quite fatal day, he could 
 not recall a single thing that he had "done" — 
 not so much as squeezing her hand. And then, 
 suddenly — it had happened to be at that damned 
 Dawson's and a sunset under the deodars — she 
 had said: 
 
 "When we are married, we shall always live 
 in a sunset land." And immediately afterward 
 she had looked steadily at him and remarked, 
 "My husband can not live more than three 
 years." 
 
 He could not even accuse himself of having 
 been weak. He was Irish, and polite enough to 
 be perfectly frank. He had said that he simply 
 was not taking any, and that he wanted to 
 marry some one else; that he did not intend to' 
 marry any one unless he could mairy some one 
 else. 
 
36 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 And she had answered: "Oh, I know. A 
 girl called Mary Savylle. That was a silly boy 
 and girl affair! Why, you probably would not 
 recognize her if you saw her again." 
 
 He had sworn under his breath at that — ^be- 
 cause it just showed him that in the damned 
 gossiping nest that Simla was, there was not a 
 single blessed thing they did not find out 
 sooner or later — though possibly the only per- 
 son that would be found to tell it to a man's 
 face was a brazen woman like Mrs. Kerr Howe. 
 Simla itself was damned gossiping, but damned 
 discreet all the same. That was what made the 
 place so confoundedly snaky and dangerous. 
 Indeed, the very next thing that Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe had said on that occasion had been: 
 
 "You know, everybody will expect you to 
 marry me as soon as my husband dies. And 
 why shouldn't you? You can't go on starving 
 as a lower grade officer in India all your life." 
 
 He had been perfectly good-humored; he had 
 said simply that he did not deserve the honor. 
 But she had stuck to it; she was particularly 
 earnest on the point that he would never marry 
 Mary Savylle, whom he would not know if he 
 met her again. 
 
 It had given him what would have been the 
 lesson of his life if he had been able to learn any 
 
RING FOR NANCY 37 
 
 lessons. He had gone a thousand miles up 
 country, but Mrs. Kerr's letters pursued him: 
 sometimes they spoke about her blasted reputa- 
 tion; sometimes she spoke about her broken 
 heart; sometimes she wrote about the good time 
 she was having in Ceylon, in Rangoon, in Cali- 
 fornia, in the Sierra Nevadas. She took a year 
 to get home, and he supposed that she was try- 
 ing to make him jealous. Sometimes he an- 
 swered her; sometimes he did not. He had a 
 lonely life in a hill station; and sometimes he 
 wrote her chaffy pages for the sheer want of 
 something to do, or the sheer want of keeping 
 in contact with some one who was not buried a 
 thousand miles deep. 
 
 Then, next season, he had come across Flossie 
 Delamare, who had been, as he had said, a half- 
 starved sort of little rat at the time — she had 
 been playing French maids in a rotten company 
 that was going round the eastern world, in 
 places like Hongkong and Tokyo — in a rotten 
 company in which every one had seemed to be a 
 hundred and two except Flossie. He had found 
 Flossie receiving attentions from a doubtful sort 
 of Parsee, and he had just sailed in to yank her 
 out of it, as he said. He was not any great 
 shakes in Simla; people could get on without 
 him all right, and he was a detrimental even for 
 
38 iRING FOR NANCY 
 
 garrison hacks. But just about then he had a 
 letter from Mrs. Kerr Howe to say, "Your old 
 flame is marrying a fat old man — the Earl of 
 Cumberland," so he just sailed in to give Flossie 
 Delamare — who had been a shop-girl from Ox- 
 ford Street — as decent a sort of time as he 
 could. 
 
 Nevertheless, he had told her carefully at 
 the start that there was not to be the least 
 idea of his marrying her; but he used to take 
 her to Dawson's to tea, and when he felt sick 
 about Mary Savylle he used to kiss her. And 
 he took her to Swanston pony races and made 
 bets for her that turned out remarkably well, so 
 that she had a good time all the way. And he 
 used to help her rehearsing her little parts, and 
 that was about all there was to it. Then one 
 day in the theater he had seen a fat old man 
 with a fattish, darkish, pleasant-looking woman 
 by his side. He learned from an attache — quite 
 by the grace of God — that it was the Earl of 
 Cumberland with his new wife, who had been 
 the Dowager Lady Mary Savylle — his own 
 Mary's aunt! So that Mrs. Kerr Howe had 
 been lying or very clumsily mistaken. 
 
 And next day he had packed Flossie back to 
 London with every penny he could scrape up and 
 borrow and a letter to a fat, kind, real actress 
 
RING FOR NANCY 39 
 
 that he had known before his father broke. She 
 had written to him once or twice to say that she 
 had got "goodish shops/' and then he had gone 
 to Somaliland to watch over a well that depos- 
 ited alkali at the bottom of the corrugated iron 
 cisterns at the rate of three inches a day. But 
 the well had been all-important for the safety 
 of the Empire in that part of the world, and his 
 readiness in watching over it had caused him to 
 be favorably regarded by his immediate superi- 
 ors; and in the meantime he had read the ex- 
 traordinary novels that had, he considered, 
 toughened his brain fiber. But the alkali and 
 the well and the shadelessness and the reading 
 had played the devil with his eyesight, so that 
 when he had passed his really brilliant examina- 
 tion and was really the youngest major in the 
 British army, the army doctors just said that 
 he would not be fit for active service any more. 
 That had been a confoundedly hard knock. 
 He had come home from the physical examina- 
 tion blundering into the calm of the common 
 room of his Bloomsbury boarding-house, and 
 had just tumbled into an armchair in a sort of 
 fit or faint or something. He considered that it 
 was up to him to go on a spree, paint the 
 town red — there was nothing else left. After all 
 those years and years there was nothing else 
 
40 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 left. He could not now go to Mary Savylle — 
 even if she still existed as Mary Savylle, which 
 he did not know — and ofifer the hand and heart 
 of a damaged major with crocky eyes and the 
 end of the world before him. 
 
 But in that common room of the Bloomsbury 
 boarding-house, when he had come in and col- 
 lapsed, Miss Olympia Peabody had been sitting. 
 She had got up and approached him with the 
 words: "My! Whatever is the matter?" 
 
 And the major, as soon as he could speak, 
 had looked up at her with the words : "I'm 
 just drunk. Couldn't toe a line. Couldn't say 
 the words *Sixty-six identifications.' Couldn't 
 pass any police tests. Suspected of seeing 
 double. See two of you. Wish there were 
 four." 
 
 Olympia had started back from him, and then 
 she said: "But you did say the words sixty- 
 six, and so on." 
 
 He had replied with a sort of hysterical 
 laugh: "That was because I wasn't trying. I 
 couldn't do it if I tried!" 
 
 And then he just told her all about it. It was 
 the first time in his life that he had not kept up 
 a mystification when he had once begun it. 
 And that first time did for him — it engaged him 
 to Olympia Peabody. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 41 
 
 And that, he could not help seeing, had been 
 entirely his own fault. Because he really had 
 flirted with poor Olympia quite outrageously. 
 It had begun by his simply wishing to give her 
 a good time, just as he had tried to do for 
 Flossie. She had seemed to him a lonely, poor- 
 ish, lost sort of soul in a Bloomsbury boarding- 
 house. He, on the other hand, had appeared to 
 her to be a brilliant lost sheep on the road to 
 perdition. Even on that day she had not been 
 able not to believe that he was drunk. He cer- 
 tainly announced that he was going to paint the 
 town red, so she had insisted on accompanying 
 him to the Empire Theater of Varieties to see 
 that he did not throw four commissionaires 
 down the stairs. He was rather astonished to 
 find that they w^ent there together in an im- 
 mense motor-car, that apparently belonged to 
 Miss Peabody herself. 
 
 But it was he who took her to the Tower, be- 
 cause the Tower seemed to be the proper place 
 for an American maiden lady. She, on the other 
 hand, suggested that they should explore White- 
 chapel, and later the opium dens of the docks. 
 He also accompanied her to Wormwood Scrubbs 
 and Borstal Prisons, to which apparently the 
 American embassy had obtained admission. He 
 made a last attempt to keep her to orthodox 
 
42 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 tourist lines, such as were fitted for maiden 
 ladies from Boston, by taking her to Hampton 
 Court, where he informed her that Lely's Duch- 
 ess of Portsmouth reminded him of herself. But, 
 except for that remark that had a great deal of 
 success, the day was such a failure that he gave 
 up the tourist ghost. He could not escape from 
 the conviction that Miss Peabody was enor- 
 mously earnest. 
 
 She was, he discovered, simply here in order 
 that she might study social problems, and more 
 especially that of vice. He discovered also that 
 she was enormously wealthy, that she was the 
 founder of the B.S.S.V., and that if she was in 
 a Bloomsbury boarding-house, it was simply in 
 order to study the serious problems of British 
 vice at close quarters. 
 
 Then he gave her a letter of introduction to 
 his aunt, Mrs. Arthur Foster, his mother^s sis- 
 ter, whom he had not seen for ten years because 
 his uncle, Arthur Foster, Esquire, a Common 
 Councilman of the City of London, had abused 
 his dead father. The major was, however, really 
 fond of his aunt and was glad of an oppor- 
 tunity to come into contact with her again. It 
 would not have entered his head if, in the long 
 unoccupied hours that he had to get through, he 
 had not read listlessly in a newspaper the item 
 
RING FOR NANCY 43 
 
 that Mrs. Arthur Foster of The Pines, Hornsey, 
 the president of the N.S.R.S. (The National So- 
 ciety for the Reform of Sin), was giving an 
 afternoon to the members of the N.L.S.R.T. 
 (The North London Society for the Reform of 
 the Theater). He could not imagine his pleas- 
 ant, soft old aunt as being connected with either 
 sin or theaters; but he had been ten years out 
 of England, and he recognized that both sin 
 and theaters might have changed. 
 
 So he sent Miss Peabody up to his aunt, and 
 the result was that both ladies had been hanging 
 round his neck ever since. Then he had learned 
 from his aunt that poor Olympia certainly ex- 
 pected him to marry her, because she had saved 
 him from hell, and he had said she was like the 
 Duchess of Portsmouth. The idea had seemed 
 to him to be ridiculous until he had read in the 
 paper that the heiress and successor to Lord 
 Savylle, of Higham, was Mary Savylle — that 
 very Mary Savylle of whom Mrs. Howe had 
 said that he probably would not recognize her 
 if he saw her again. It had appeared from the 
 newspaper report of the decease of the late peer 
 that three of her cousins having died in the ten 
 years, the title, as well as the estate, going in 
 tail female, had fallen to her. 
 
 That really knocked the bottom out of him 
 
44 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 and he had, as he considered, just let himself go 
 to what was practically the devil. He had con- 
 sented to change his name to Brent Foster on 
 the definite condition that he became his uncle's 
 heir, married Miss Peabody, who enjoyed an 
 income of ninety thousand dollars (eighteen 
 thousand pounds) a year, and settled down as 
 a country gentleman. But he did not care 
 to consider these details of his fall. He was 
 out of conceit with himself and life, and he 
 was going down to remake the acquaintance 
 of Arthur Foster, Esquire, Common Councilman 
 of the City of London, at the country house that 
 he had hired. His aunt had never let him come 
 up to The Pines, Hornsey, because she had the 
 idea that her nephew had led a worldly and glit- 
 tering life. She thought it would be less of a 
 shock to him to meet his uncle in one of the 
 really stately homes of England. It was called 
 The Manor, Basildon, in Hampshire, and Olym- 
 pia, who had been down with Mrs. Foster to 
 inspect it, reported that it was chock-full of old 
 armor, old contraptions, and secret rooms and 
 Vandyke paintings. But Major Edward Brent 
 Foster did not care a damn. 
 
 He sat opposite Mrs. Kerr Howe and just 
 wondered gloomily what was going to happen. 
 There he was going down to a house with that 
 
RING FOR NANCY 45 
 
 woman and Flossie. And poor dear Olympia 
 was as jealous as they make them, and heaven 
 knew what racket there would not be. He al- 
 most wished that he had not dragged the old 
 gentleman into the carriage. Then he would 
 have been able to have it out with Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe, and to get to know just what she did 
 intend to do about it. The old gentleman was 
 deep in one of seven books, and he was just 
 going to risk things and ask her, when she 
 looked round from the window, and with every 
 sign of exasperation, asked — her foot tapping 
 ominously on the floor of the carriage: 
 
 "How in the world could you be such an idiot 
 as not to let Miss Delamare get into this car- 
 riage?'* 
 
 The major started back and said: "Well, I 
 thought she'd be in the way — considering how 
 things are between us, I thought she would be 
 in the way." 
 
 "How things are between us?" she asked 
 carelessly. "How are they, I should like to 
 know?" 
 
 "Well, I certainly thought," the major said, 
 "that you intended to marry me whether I 
 wanted it or no." 
 
 "That's all very well," she said, "that cock 
 isn't going to fight. You aren't going to get out 
 
46 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 of it in that way. I want to talk to Miss Dela- 
 mare before she can get to your uncle's. I can 
 settle you afterward." 
 
 "Oh, no, you don't," the major said with 
 some heat. "I'm not going to have poor Olym- 
 pia upset. When we meet at my uncle's, we 
 meet as strangers." 
 
 "Oh, no, we don't," she mocked him. "As if 
 I care whether poor Olympia is upset!" 
 
 "Well, she isn't going to be," the major said 
 with his most businesslike air. 
 
 "Well, we can't meet as strangers," she still 
 mocked him. "Your aunt thinks I am your 
 oldest ' friend. That's why she has asked me 
 down to meet you." 
 
 The major exclaimed: "My aunt! . . ." 
 with an accent of horror. 
 
 "Yes, Teddy," Mrs. Howe continued, "your 
 dear good aunt. She wants everybody to be 
 nice and homelike for you. Everybody and 
 everything! That is why she has taken Basildon 
 Manor. She took no end of trouble to get it 
 to welcome you in." 
 
 The major said blankly: "Basildon Manor? 
 I don't understand . . ." 
 
 "Well, it's not my business to give you under- 
 standing," the lady said. "There it is. Your 
 aunt wanted you to be nice and comfy and in 
 
RING FOR NANCY 47 
 
 the society that you are accustomed to. So 
 she asked me because I told her that I was 
 your oldest friend. And she's told me that 
 she asked Miss Delamare because Miss Dela- 
 mare said she was your oldest friend, too." 
 
 The major said Hmply: "But what an ex- 
 traordinary idea!" 
 
 "It's a surprise party," Mrs. Kerr Howe said. 
 
 "It certainly is," the major said. 
 
 "And what I want to know is," the lady con- 
 tinued, "how you could be such an utter oaf 
 as to head Miss Delamare off from me. She. 
 is going to sign her contract with your uncle 
 for the New Theater the moment she gets 
 down. And it's the most important thing in 
 the world for me to get her to promise to put 
 on my play before she signs. Your uncle is 
 opposed to my ideas, and he won't let her do 
 it afterward. . . . The whole of my future — 
 the whole of our future may depend on it. I 
 suppose you don't want to be a beggar, and I 
 lose my husband's fortune on remarrying." 
 
 "Oh, I shan't be a beggar," the major said; 
 "Olympia's got eighteen thousand a year." 
 
 "Oh, you're not going to marry Olympia," 
 the lady said; "that's a silly affair. She's not 
 in the least suited to you. . . ." 
 
 The major was just saying: "Look here. 
 
48 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Juliana, this thing has got to be settled here 
 and now/' when a roar that positively re- 
 minded him of his first tiger came from the 
 other end of the carriage. Sir Arthur Johnson 
 had sprung to his feet and had flung a blue 
 volume on to the floor. The major saw vaguely 
 that it was the Navy List. 
 
 *'The only thing that I can think is that youVe 
 drunk, sir. Outrageously drunk!" Sir Arthur 
 shouted. His whole face was purple and his 
 whitish blue beard was quivering. He began 
 furiously throwing books into his open kit-bag 
 and missing the opening each time. He gave 
 an idea of violent and stormy motion, for as 
 each book fell on the floor he threw it at the 
 kit-bag again, and the breath came from his 
 nostrils like a tempest. 
 
 The major said: "Well, I'll admit we were 
 talking of rather intimate matters. Perhaps 
 we ought not to have been. But, you see, I'm 
 engaged to this very charming lady. It's a 
 painful circumstance, and there's ever so much 
 to talk about." 
 
 The old gentleman became dangerously calm 
 and his eyes glittered. 
 
 "Do you mean to say, sir," he said, "that you 
 accuse me of listening to your filthy and degen- 
 erate conversation?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 49 
 
 "Well, I don't know what else it could have 
 been," the major said, and he bent humbly to 
 pick up the blue book. But the old man 
 stamped his foot hard upon it and stood like 
 an old sea-lion at bay. 
 
 "No, you don't, sir," he hissed. "You shall 
 not destroy the evidence of your guilt. That, 
 sir, is a Navy List. 
 
 The major brought out: "A Na . . ." And 
 then he said, "Oh!" 
 
 »"Yes, sir, *oh !' " the old man said violently. 
 "A Navy List. In that book there is no such 
 name as that of Sir Arthur Bowles, Rear- 
 admiral." 
 
 "Well, of course, he has been dead two 
 
 .. years," the major said mildly. 
 
 P "That book, sir," the old gentleman said 
 
 coldly, "is three years old. Your friend would 
 
 have been in it if he only died two years ago!" 
 
 "Well, but he was in the United States 
 
 navy!" the major said. "He was a baronet in 
 
 his own right, and he deserted to the United 
 
 States in 1863. He wanted to see service against 
 
 the South. There wasn't anything discreditable 
 
 in his desertion." 
 
 "Sir, I have written a history of the war in 
 the United States. I am intimately acquainted 
 with all the circumstances. There was no 
 
50 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 English baronet of the name of Bowles m the 
 Federal naval service." 
 
 "Well, of course, he changed his name, too," 
 the major said, "like me. He did not naturally 
 want it known. Now, would he?" 
 
 "This is a pack of lies," Sir Arthur said. I 
 
 "Why, so it is," the major said brightly. "But 
 even you will admit that there is such a thing 
 as tact." 
 
 "No, there is no such thing," the president of | 
 the Quietist Church exclaimed. "There is the 
 truth. And there are lies. You had better tell j 
 the truth or I shall take the proper steps." I 
 
 "Well, I've done my best to shield all par- | 
 ties," the major sighed resignedly. "I was only 
 doing my best for poor Olympia. Because I 
 don't want her to think I am not a reformed 
 character. I really am." 
 
 The old gentleman continued standing at one 
 end of the carriage. 
 
 "Come, sir. The truth!" he exclaimed, and 
 his eyes wandered up to the alarm signal. 
 
 "Well, then, this is the exact truth," the 
 major said. "I am engaged to Miss Peabody, 
 of Boston, Massachusetts." 
 
 "A minute ago you said you were engaged ., 
 to this lady," Sir Arthur convicted him trium- | 
 phantly. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 51 
 
 "Why, so I did," the major said pleasantly. 
 "But then I was lying. Now I am telling the 
 truth." 
 
 The old gentleman turned upon Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe. "This appears to be a sordid story, mad- 
 am," he said. "But if the matter should come 
 to a breach of promise trial I am at your dis- 
 posal as a witness that this person said that 
 he was engaged to you." 
 
 The major said: "That's very amiable of 
 you. But you admitted yourself that every- 
 thing I was saying then was a pack of lies. 
 Those were your exact words. You can't have 
 it both ways." 
 
 And Mrs. Kerr Howe exclaimed: "I beg 
 you not to associate me with anything so vul- 
 gar as a breach of promise case. I have other 
 ways of enforcing my rights. I am not the 
 president of the Society for the Reform of 
 Conventional Marriage for nothing. Let me 
 introduce myself. I am Mrs. Kerr Howe, the 
 famous authoress." 
 |t The old gentleman shivered and exclaimed: 
 
 "Infamous!" 
 
 The real truth is," the major continued, "that 
 I am engaged to Olympia I did not wish to 
 travel down alone in a carriage with a much too 
 attractive lady. So I used what was a little sub- 
 
52 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 terfuge, I admit, to provide myself with a chap- 
 eron. So that's the real truth, and I hope you 
 will admit that it was harmless enough." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," Sir Arthur 
 said. 
 
 "I'm not accustomed to being called a liar," 
 the major said angrily. "Damn it, I won't stand 
 that." 
 
 Sir Arthur stretched out his hand to the alarm 
 signal and continued, holding the knob in his 
 hand : 
 
 "Don't you try to threaten me, sir. I recog- 
 nized you from the first for the coward and 
 hired bully that you are. I dare say that my life 
 is in danger, but I am not to be intimidated. I 
 shall say my say come what will. No one ever 
 said that I was wanting in courage. Let me 
 tell you that I recognized your type from the 
 first." 
 
 He paused and pointed an accusing finger at 
 the major. 
 
 "You, sir," he hissed, "are a military charac- 
 ter. You, madam, are an immoral authoress 
 pandering to the cryptic and morbid tastes of 
 the day. I quite understand that you have 
 joined causes in this monstrous outrage on my- 
 self." He breathed deeply and continued: 
 "You entice me into this carriage. I am will- 
 
RING FOR NANCY - 53 
 
 ing to give you the excuse that you are both 
 drunk. I am willing even to admit that you 
 do not mean to rob me or even to assault me. 
 You may want no more than to gloat in some 
 low pot-house with your boon companions over 
 the low trick that you have played on me. I 
 can quite see that your infamous causes of 
 prize-fighter and panderer to the filthy tastes 
 of the day would not be advanced by the re- 
 port that you had assaulted an old man — a 
 
 feeble nonagenarian like myself " 
 
 "You're quite sure that you are talking about 
 us?" the major asked. "It's certainly more 
 confusing than reading Henry James. It really 
 
 » 
 
 The old gentleman really screamed: 
 "Stop, sir!" he shouted. "If you think that 
 it is humorous to force upon my attention the 
 name of another of your filthy young writers 
 
 "Young!" the major exclaimed in a puzzled 
 manner. "I thought he was quite old. A clas- 
 sic!" 
 
 "Sacred shade of Byron!" Sir Arthur ex- 
 claimed. "And you, too, sacred name oi Walter 
 Scott, that I knew in my childhood! Where 
 are Thackeray and Tennyson, and my good old 
 friend Lewis Morris! That I should have lived 
 
54 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 ninety years in the land to hear these lewd 
 striplings applauded as classics !" 
 
 "But you can't call that writer a stripling," 
 the major said. *'You could run him three 
 times round a mile course yourself, I would not 
 mind betting." 
 
 "I do call that writer a stripling!" the old 
 man said fiercely. "1 do. A purveyor of cryp- 
 tic and morbid vileness!" 
 
 "Now, come," the major said, "I don't be- 
 lieve you have read a word that was written 
 since Macaulay died." 
 
 "I haven't, sir," Sir Arthur exclaimed fierce- 
 ly. "Not a word. All my efforts since then 
 have been confined to damming up the foul 
 tricklings of that morbid stream. And let me 
 tell you, sir, prize-fighter that you are, I should 
 never have lived to this splendid and green old 
 age if I had so befouled my mind." 
 
 "I don't see why you call me a prize-fighter," 
 the major said. "Of course it makes things 
 much more amusing. But it's odd!" 
 
 "Of course you are a prize-fighter!" Sir 
 Arthur exclaimed. "What else should you be? 
 Is It not inevitable and demonstrable! You 
 are a military person and you outrage me and 
 you talk of meretricious and obscene tales by 
 young writers and you join in your insult to 
 
RING FOR NANCY 55 
 
 me with the most meretricious female writer 
 that I have ever heard of — so, of course, I join 
 you with prize-fighters. I do not mean that 
 you have muscle and nerve to stand up against 
 a trained man with your fists. Your unclean 
 living has probably deprived you of those at- 
 tributes of a man — physical courage and nerves. 
 But you are one of those persons who organize 
 the disgusting exhibitions in which the degen- 
 erate descendants of the most infamous type of 
 gladiators . . ." 
 
 "I! Organize a prize-fight!" the major ex^ 
 claimed. "My God!" 
 
 "That is what you do!" Sir Arthur said. 
 
 And suddenly Mrs. Kerr Howe cried out: 
 
 "The rude old man thinks that you are one 
 of the promoters of the Military Boxing Dis- 
 plays that a lot of silly parsons got stopped!" 
 
 "I certainly," Sir Arthur said, "used all my 
 influence as head of the Quietist Church to get 
 those infamous displays suppressed — that and 
 my efforts to drive foul literature off the book- 
 stalls. . . ." 
 
 "Oh, of course," Mrs. Kerr Howe said. "You 
 are one of the old Pharisees in fig-leaves who 
 tried to get up the boycott of my books. I 
 thought I knew your name!" 
 
 "Knew my name!" Sir Arthur suddenly 
 
56 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 foamed. "This to me — the author of Economic 
 Ethics and the Modern State! To me, whom the 
 most eminent statesmen of the nineteenth cen- 
 tury were proud to be privileged to consult. 
 To me!" He choked and once more began to 
 cram his books into his kit-bag. And then he 
 suddenly threw the bag out of the window and 
 pulled the alarm cord. "To me !" he said. 
 "Just Gods! that my only title to fame in this 
 degenerate day should be that I stopped a 
 prize-fight and attempted to cleanse the world 
 of filthy books." 
 
 His fury was so terrific that both the major 
 and Mrs. Kerr Howe cowered in their corners 
 while he stamped up and down from end to 
 end of the carriage. The train slowed, jolted, 
 ground along the rails and then came to a stop 
 just at a little roadside station. Sir Arthur 
 sprang out, and stamping on the platform, be- 
 gan to shout for the guard. The guard came 
 running up. 
 
 "I shall see if the laws of my country will 
 not protect me from such Yahoos," Sir Arthur 
 hissed back at the carriage. Then he called 
 out: "Guard, arrest these people for drunk- 
 enness, the use of obscene language and as- 
 sault." 
 
 The guard said: "There, there. Sir Arthur, 
 
RING FOR NANCY 57 
 
 you know perfectly well I haven't got the 
 power to arrest anybody. You've got to issue 
 a summons, as you usually do." 
 
 "Find me an empty first-class carriage," Sir 
 Arthur exclaimed majestically, and he began 
 to stalk off up the platform. 
 
 The major came to the door of the carriage. 
 
 "You'd better," he said to the guard, "smell 
 my breath and hear if I can say 'sixty-six inci- 
 dentals.' " 
 
 The guard said: "Oh, that's all right, sir. 
 Very fiery old gentleman. Sir Arthur. This is 
 the third time he stopped the six forty-eight 
 this year." And he shut the door and went 
 up the platform after Sir Arthur. 
 
 The engine-driver having stopped the train 
 at a station instead of in the open country, 
 none of the passengers had paid any particular 
 attention to the stoppage, except Miss Flossie 
 Delamare, who came to her window, and lean- 
 ing out, kissed her hand to the major. He 
 drew his own head in precipitately. For, just 
 as before he had been anxious to be protected 
 from a scene with Mrs. Kerr Howe, now, upon 
 reconsideration, he was anxious for an expla- 
 nation with her. He wanted to get perfectly 
 settled what she was going to be up to before 
 he got down to his uncle's. 
 
58 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 He pulled up the window and was about to 
 sit down opposite Mrs. Kerr Howe. 
 
 ^'This appears to me," Mrs. Kerr Howe said, 
 ''to be an excellent opportunity for me to have 
 some conversation with Miss Delamare about 
 my play," and she rose to her feet. 
 
 "Oh, come," the major said, ''that can wait. 
 We've got to settle about our relationships." 
 
 "They're settled already," that lady said. 
 "But of course we must have a talk about them 
 before the day is done," and vigorously she 
 pushed past him toward the door. He caught 
 hold of her wrist. 
 
 "Look here, Juliana," he said, "I can't go 
 having tete-a-tetes with you in my uncle's 
 house." 
 
 "It would upset Olympia.^" she asked amia- 
 bly. 
 
 "It would upset the whole blooming lot," the 
 major said. "My uncle, my aunt, Olympia, me 
 — everybody." 
 
 She slipped her hand neatly out of his fin- 
 gers. "Oh, would it?" she said. "Well, I'm 
 afraid they are going to be upset," and she was 
 gone out of the carriage. 
 
 She got hold of a sleepy porter who had 
 been awakened from a nap by the unaccus- 
 tomed stopping of the mail, and in a minute 
 
RING FOR NANCY 59 
 
 she had got her dressing-bag and her jewel- 
 case out of the major's carriage and into Miss 
 Delamare's. From the door the major could 
 perceive Sir Arthur foaming down the platform 
 like a great white wave. And the major had 
 to do a lot of rapid reflection. In the first 
 place, he knew perfectly well that it would not 
 be the least use getting in with Flossie and 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe. Mrs. Kerr Howe would be 
 talking about her play the whole way down, 
 and that would bore him to extinction. On 
 the other hand, if he didn't get into the same 
 carriage to check them they would almost cer- 
 tainly compare notes as to his past career, and 
 he didn't know that he wanted that. He had, 
 of course, to think of poor Olympiads feelings 
 as much as possible, and he was convinced that 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe would do all that she possibly 
 could to give poor Olympia a lively time. His 
 uncertainty, however, was cut short by the 
 guard, who came running up to beg him to 
 get into the other carriage with his other lady 
 friends, so as to leave Sir Arthur an empty 
 first. And the major, with a good-tempered 
 "Oh, well," got himself out of his own carriage 
 and into the next. He was just saying cheer- 
 fully to Flossie Delamare, *'You wicked, aban- 
 doned little wretch," when Sir Arthur, his eyes 
 
60 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 blazing, his beard working convulsively, thrust 
 his head in at the window and shouted: 
 
 *'.You wicked abandoned wretch. Don't 
 think to escape me in this way. You hired 
 bully, you atrocious drunken sot with your 
 abandoned female companions, the moment I 
 get to my destination I shall issue a summons 
 against you for drunkenness, assault and the 
 use of obscene language." His head disap- | 
 peared like that of a Jack-in-the-box, leaving 
 the guard visible behind him. 
 
 "Do you suppose he'll take out a summons 
 against me?" the major asked. 
 
 "He'll certainly issue it himself," the guard 
 said. "He's one of these liberal J.P.'s — pre- 
 cious fond of issuing summonses." The guard 
 disappeared. 
 
 "Drunkenness! Assault! The use of obscene 
 language!" Miss Flossie Delamare laughed. 
 "That'll make a pretty lively time for poor 
 Olympia when the summons comes on." 
 
 The major said, "Oh, rot!" and then he hur- 
 riedly began to talk to her in the hope of 
 heading off Mrs. Kerr Howe. 
 
 "You wicked, abandoned little wretch," he 
 said, "what do you mean by not telling me you 
 were going down to my aunt's? What do you 
 mean by telling my aunt that you were one of 
 my best friends?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 61 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," Miss Delamare said, "if 
 it comes to good wishes, I am sure I'm the best 
 friend youVe got in the world. And as for 
 taking you in . . . why, you're such a precious 
 hand at mystification yourself that it's a fine 
 old temptation to score off you sometimes." 
 
 "But hang it all," the major said, "you did 
 it so confoundedly well. When you talked 
 about parting forever there were tears in your 
 eyes." 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," Miss Delamare said with 
 a little hurt air, "you seem to forget sometimes 
 that I a7n an actress." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe suddenly cut in with what 
 appeared to be a victorious snicker: 
 
 "Your half-brother," she said, "has been tell- 
 ing me the most romantic story about your re- 
 lationships." 
 
 Miss Delamare exclaimed, "My half-brother!" 
 and then she looked at the major and got from 
 his face one of her brilliant inspirations. 
 
 "Oh, Teddy you mean!" she said. "I 
 thought you meant that old gentleman who 
 might have been an uncle to me. Well, I hope 
 Teddy hasn't been saying things against me 
 behind my back." 
 
 And the major sank down into his corner 
 with a sigh of deep relief. He couldn't now 
 have any doubt that Flossie Delamare wouldn't 
 
 h 
 
62 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 give Mrs. Kerr Howe any kind of a handle 
 against him, and he just said: 
 
 "The times weVe seen!" 
 
 "Yes, the times we've seen, Teddy!'* Miss 
 Delamare said with a little regretful sigh, and 
 then, immediately afterward, Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 was all over her like a wave with her projects 
 for the New Theater. The major never got 
 another word in. Mrs. Kerr Howe explained 
 the plot of her play. She dilated on the high- 
 mindedness of all the characters except the 
 villain. She explained how the play would 
 help on the reform of conventional marriage. 
 The major never got a word in, and at last he 
 took from the pocket of his rain-proof coat a 
 volume called The Sacred Fount, and began to 
 puzzle over its contents. The Westinghouse 
 brake, which had been strained by the sudden 
 stopping of the train, burst about a quarter 
 of an hour later, and by the time the train had 
 slowed down a little, one of the carriages about 
 three ahead of them took it into its head to run 
 off the line. It was nothing like a serious ac- 
 cident, but it jolted them a good deal. But 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe talked on steadily about her 
 play, and although it was a quarter to eleven 
 before they reached Basildon Manor she was 
 still talking about it. 
 
Ill 
 
 lyrRS. ARTHUR FOSTER— Major Brent 
 ITA Foster's annt — was anxiously seeing to 
 the warmth of his bedroom in Basildon Manor 
 at about half past ten that night. It is true 
 that it was early June, but she was con- 
 vinced that, after many years in one tropic and 
 another, he would find it cool enough. A fire 
 burned in the grate; there was a hot bottle in 
 the immense and shadowy four-post bed. And! 
 all the room wavered between shadowiness and 
 warmth. The fireplace was as large as a Lon- 
 don pantry; the dogs on the hearth w^ere as large 
 as the London umbrella stand; the burning logs 
 were as big as Mrs. Foster's husband's portman- 
 teau; the velvet curtained bed was as big as she 
 imagined desert islands to be, and the immense 
 picture of Ancestors that faced the foot of the 
 bed was at least as large as the immense fold- 
 ing-doors between the front and rear dining- 
 rooms of The Pines, Hornsey. 
 
 And Mrs. Arthur Foster was a little afraid 
 of this picture — "the panel," her ladyship's own 
 maid called it. It represented three fierce men 
 
 63 
 
64 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 in broad-brimmed and plumed hats; three ladies 
 in velvet, pearls, low necks and fringes; one lit- 
 tle boy v^ith long curls and a slouch hat; three 
 little girls in low necks, one of them held a par- 
 rot, another a monkey, and the third attended 
 on by a greyhound. A baby, also in a low- 
 necked dress, sprawled on the ground in the at- 
 tempt to reach a parti-colored ball. All these 
 people were represented as standing in the open 
 air, in a group like a wall, as people stand now- 
 adays to be photographed, and with the excep- 
 tion of the baby, gazed fiercely, mildly, or with 
 unseeing glances at Mrs. Arthur Foster. 
 
 Having done all she could for the major*s 
 room, she had to pause and look round, and 
 those eyes irresistibly drew her glance. She 
 really shivered, and then she said to her lady- 
 ship's own maid: 
 
 "Dear me, Miss Nancy Jenkins, my dear, 
 wouldn't you say they were asking me how I 
 dared to be in their room?" 
 
 "No, I shouldn't ma'am," her ladyship's 
 own maid replied; "you're nothing to the peo- 
 ple they did see in their own rooms when they 
 were alive." 
 
 "No, poor dears, I dare say not," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter said. "And I dare say they'd know how re- 
 spectful and how like an intruder I feel." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 65 
 
 "Now you needn't, ma'am," Miss Nancy Jen- 
 kins said kindly. "I'm sure the last thing her 
 ladyship would want you to feel is anything 
 but entirely at home. Her ladyship begged 
 me to make you and Major Brent feel absolute- 
 ly and entirely as if the place belonged to you. 
 Her ladyship begged me particularly to ask 
 you to remember, if there isn't any other way 
 of making you see it, that if it wasn't for you 
 taking the place in the summer she could not 
 afford to live in it for the spring and autumn. 
 She would have to sell it and all the dear old 
 things." 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked timidly at her ladyship's 
 own maid. 
 
 "Dear me, Miss Nancy Jenkins," she said, 
 "did her ladyship really ask you to say that?" 
 
 "It's what her ladyship particularly wishes 
 you to understand," the maid answered. "Par- 
 ticularly. More than anything else. She loves 
 the old things, and she wants them to make 
 people happy." 
 
 "I feel afraid of them really," Mrs. Foster 
 said. "I would not like people to know it. But 
 they're all so old and so stern and so precious 
 that sometimes I'm afraid to turn round for 
 fear of breaking them. And sometimes — ohl I 
 really wish I was back in my own drawing- 
 
66 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 room at Hornsey, where there's nothing really 
 valuable except the Berlin wool-work screen 
 that was worked by the Princess Alice's own 
 hands for the Great Exhibition of '52," She 
 stopped and looked almost lovingly at her 
 ladyship's own maid. 
 
 Miss Jenkins smoothed her black alpaca 
 apron. 
 
 "I'm afraid," she said, "that it's her lady- 
 ship's leaving me that has given you that sort 
 of idea," she said. "But, indeed, madam, that 
 was not meant as a ... as a precaution against 
 yourself. The best of people have now and 
 then a servant that's a breaker, and her lady- 
 ship values every stick of her house as if it 
 were one of her little fingers." She stopped, 
 and then added: "But rather than take away 
 from your satisfaction, rather than you should 
 feel that you are being watched upon, I'm 
 perfectly certain that her ladyship would pre- 
 fer me to go to-night." 
 
 "Oh, but my dear, my dear Miss Nancy Jen- 
 kins," Mrs. Foster exclaimed on a note of al- 
 most painful anxiety, and then she stopped dis- 
 tractedly. "You're perfectly certain/^ she asked, 
 "that those cigars are the sort of cigars the 
 major will like?" 
 
 "Well, you never can be quite certain what a 
 
RING FOR NANCY 67 
 
 gentleman will like, ma'am," Miss Jenkins an- 
 swered; "but you can be perfectly certain that 
 they're not the kind of cigars that you need 
 be ashamed of, and that's the important point. 
 They're the sort that her ladyship always has 
 in the house for her gentlemen friends. And 
 they're the sort that Captain Brent used always 
 to smoke at Holbury before he went away. Of 
 course, there's no saying that his tastes may 
 have changed." 
 
 *'Then there you are. Miss Nancy," Mrs. 
 Foster said triumphantly. "How could I get 
 on in this great ugly old house if I hadn't you 
 to back me up? What do I know about gen- 
 tlemen's tastes? Of course there's Mr. Foster 
 < — he's a true gentleman; but of course he's not 
 a real gentleman. I mean not a manly gentle- 
 man like the major." 
 
 "Well, of course, you couldn't have every one 
 in the world like the major," Miss Jenkins said, 
 "or there wouldn't be room to hold us." 
 
 Mrs. Foster's eyes wandered to the panel. 
 
 "Now, who did you say all those angry-look- 
 ing people were?" she asked. "You've told 
 me once, but I've forgotten. And it would be 
 too silly not to be able to tell the major any- 
 thing about anything." Miss Jenkins pointed 
 to the tallest of the three men in slouch hats. 
 
68 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "That was the fourth earl," she said succinct- 
 ly. "Fell at Naseby four years after the pic- 
 ture was painted. The two elder sons, Lord 
 Edward, afterward fifth earl, and Lord Charles 
 fell at the battle of the Boyne. The baby on 
 the -ground. Lord James, afterward sixth earl, 
 was attaindered after the battle in which he 
 took part. The baby's son. Lord William, was 
 restored to the Barony of Higham, but not the 
 earldom, upon his reconciliation with Queen 
 Anne. He was known as 'Wild Higham,' be- 
 cause there was nothing that he would stick 
 at. His portrait is in the long dining-room: 
 said to bear a strong resemblance to her lady- 
 ship." 
 
 "That's what I can't bear," Mrs. Foster said 
 with deep feeling. "W^herever I go all over 
 the house they're all, all of them, always look- 
 ing at me, and they're all alike. And the wife 
 of the eldest son always has that same pearl 
 necklace on, and they all, you feel, all of them, 
 stick at nothing." 
 
 "That's so, ma'am," Miss Nancy Jenkins 
 said. "There's not one of them that ever 
 would. Never stick at anything once it came 
 into their heads — the Wild Highams wouldn't." 
 
 "Now, I don't know how I feel about ^that, 
 Miss Nancy," Mrs. Foster said. "Everything's 
 
RING FOR NANCY 69 
 
 always so difficult to get at. In the first place, 
 on principle, I oughtn't to approve of people 
 who don't care what they do. But then I can't 
 help saying that there was my brother-in-law, 
 Admiral Brent, the major's father — he stuck at 
 nothing, as you put it, and I always used to 
 think he was the finest man I ever met, though 
 of course I shouldn't like Mr. Foster to hear 
 me talking like that. Not that he's jealous, 
 but he strongly disapproved of everything the 
 admiral did. But he was a fine man, though 
 what with not paying attention to Mr. Foster's 
 advice about his speculations, and what with 
 high living and throwing his money out of the 
 window, and charities he couldn't afford and 
 all the rest of it — he took a race horse full gal- 
 lop down some cliffs in India, where they say 
 only ponies went, for a bet. And he won the 
 bet. 
 
 "But he died three weeks after my poor 
 sister — Edward's mother — and he didn't leave 
 behind him any money, but eleven hundred 
 and sixty-two pounds' worth of debt which I 
 paid out of my own jointure, for the sake of 
 the name. Though that made Mr. Foster furi- 
 ously angry, for he said, what was the name 
 of a dissolute scoundrel to him. And poor dear 
 Edward — the major — paid the money back out 
 
70 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 of his salary — I mean his pay, because, of 
 course, you ought not to talk of what an offi- 
 cer gets as a salary. But he did his best, poor 
 dear, having put aside fifty pounds a year, 
 which was paid me regularly by the paymaster 
 of the war office when he was only a captain, 
 and then advancing it to seventy-five pounds 
 a year when he was on active service, when, 
 of course, they get more, as you doubtless 
 know. So that at the present moment he only 
 owes me four hundred thirty-three pounds, thir- 
 teen shillings, fourpence, with interest. And 
 that was what all the trouble was about," Mrs. 
 Foster ended suddenly. 
 
 "I don't see about what, ma'am," Miss Nancy 
 Jenkins said, "or what the trouble was." 
 
 "The trouble was," Mrs. Foster said, "that 
 he blacked his uncle's eye. Because, of course, 
 Mr. Foster, who's the kindest and best gentle- 
 man in the world, but a little wanting in tact 
 where his brother-in-law the admiral was con- 
 cerned — Mr. Foster was much more outrageous 
 when Captain Edward started to pay the money 
 back than he was with me for having paid it 
 out — he said that I wasn't to take money from 
 the pauper son of a bankrupt swindler. But I 
 said, no, let the boy do his duty to his father's 
 memory! It was right and proper, and it 
 
RING FOR NANCY 71 
 
 showed a good spirit. Not, of course, that I 
 was going to take the money, for God knows 
 there isn't a thing I wouldn't give the boy, 
 even down to the gold and the false teeth out 
 of my head, though, of course, that's not a 
 thing I ought to say, but it's perfectly true. 
 And then, there came that awful trouble, and I 
 never saw my Edward again for ten years." 
 Mrs. Foster broke off and remarked innocently, 
 *'Why, you're crying, Miss Nancy!" 
 
 "You're crying yourself, ma'am," Miss Nancy 
 said sharply. 
 
 "And well I may be," Mrs. Foster said, "con- 
 sidering the difference there is in the poor boy." 
 
 "Oh, don't say that, ma'am," Miss Jenkins 
 said. 
 
 "But it's true," Mrs. Foster maintained. 
 "There was a time when you could say he 
 didn't care what he did, like those people 
 there," and she pointed to the panel. "Now, 
 you can say he doesn't care what he does — 
 just because he doesn't care what becomes of 
 him. There's no spirit left in him." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" with 
 so much real concern that Mrs. Foster was 
 heartened to continue talking about her nephew; 
 for, as a rule, she was too much afraid of bor- 
 ing Miss Jenkins to talk for long about any one 
 
72 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 subject. And as, indeed, she was afraid of bor- 
 ing everybody, her conversation was usually 
 extremely disjointed. 
 
 Mrs. Foster was the daughter of a Ports- 
 mouth ship-chandler in very good circum- 
 stances, and it was characteristic of Edward 
 Brent's father — the gentleman who stuck at 
 nothing — that he should just have sailed in and 
 married her sister, who was a handsome flash- 
 ing woman. He was at the time a penniless 
 Irish naval lieutenant. It was not until many 
 years later that Mrs. Foster married Mr. Ar- 
 thur Foster, at that time a .West End baker 
 with five flourishing businesses. It was char- 
 acteristic of Mr. Arthur Foster that he should 
 have inquired carefully how much money the 
 ship-chandler's daughter had to her account be- 
 fore he proposed to her. And with her money, 
 he had been able to turn his business into a 
 limited company, which had twenty-three 
 branches in London and over a hundred in 
 various cities of the United Kingdom and the 
 colonies. So that, until lately, Mr. Arthur Fos- 
 ter had been able to boast himself the largest 
 wholesale baker in the world. Latterly, how- 
 ever, he had come to talk less of being a baker 
 and more of the fact that he was a Common 
 Councilman of the City of London. He even 
 
RING FOR NANCY 73 
 
 had a hope of an aldermanship — nay, in his 
 dreams he even passed the Chair. 
 
 The lieutenant — later the admiral — quarreled 
 most ferociously with his wife whenever he was 
 at home. There never, Mr. Foster was accus- 
 tomed to say, were such scenes. Nevertheless, 
 to the long unmarried sister, Captain Brent had 
 always been held up as the very model of 
 manly virtues — as long as he was at sea. His 
 rapid promotion, his quite splendid service in 
 Western Chinese waters, and the extraordinary 
 facility in slinging out oaths, caused him to be, 
 for the unmarried sister, a sort of splendid ter- 
 ror. And this made her husband — the respect- 
 able and wealthy Baptist — detest the admiral 
 even more than he would otherwise have done. 
 
 Thus, when the admiral died in debt and 
 Mrs. Foster had paid it off, and Captain Ed- 
 ward announced his intention of paying his aunt 
 back, Mr. Arthur Foster really had called the 
 captain "the pauper son of a bankrupt swindler" 
 to the captain's face. Mr. Arthur Foster had 
 particular reason to be cock-a-hoop that day, 
 for he had just made arrangements for the 
 opening of the last fifty of his bakers' shops — 
 in Australasia. He had never been bigger than 
 his boots before, for he had always been a 
 rather timid person. And he certainly never 
 
74 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 was again, for when the captain knocked him 
 down he got such a shock, that, for the rest 
 of his life, he was humble even to the pay-check 
 girls in the glass cases in his shops. He was 
 simply afraid of getting a harsh word addressed 
 to him by anybody. 
 
 But Captain Brent had simply disappeared. 
 He had gone right straight out to India, and 
 they had never heard another word from him. 
 Not a single word! His father, the admiral, 
 had really spoiled him in no ordinary manner 
 — had never grudged him a penny, and had 
 never suggested that he was not to live up to 
 ten thousand a year for the rest of his life. 
 And since Captain Brent had been gay, reck- 
 less and always in a good humor, he had lived 
 like a fighting-cock in the best of society. 
 
 It was characteristic of him, however, that 
 he had not made a good match, but had fallen 
 head over heels in love at last with a Miss 
 Mary Savylle, whom he met during a three 
 weeks' stay at the Duke of Cumberland's at 
 Thorbury. Miss Savylle had been a daredevil 
 young lady, without a penny to her name, 
 though her granduncle. Lord Savylle of Hig- 
 ham, allowed her four hundred pounds a year, 
 and she spent her life traveling with a maid 
 from country-house to country-house. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 75 
 
 Miss Savylle had appealed to him, because 
 she was simply the only girl he had ever 
 met who didn't care what she did. She 
 didn't care a rap. She contradicted the 
 Bishop of Liverpool at table when he said 
 that her bulldog had not got a soul, and she 
 put on the old duke's favorite old boots over 
 her slippers when she wanted to run over the 
 wet lawn one early morning, because she had 
 thrown her hair-brush out of the window at a 
 terrier that was chasing a cat. The duke had 
 his favorite boots for fourteen years — Welling- 
 tons they were^r^nd he put them on every 
 hunting morning. So that the valet turned 
 green when Miss Savylle rushed from her bed- 
 room in her wrapper and slippers, and tearing 
 the boots from his hands, pulled them suddenly 
 on and streamed out of the front door. The 
 terrier was still worrying the cat, and Miss 
 Savylle got slightly scratched and badly bitten 
 in separating them. There was even blood 
 upon the sacrosanct boots. . But the duke 
 hardly even grumbled, which was a thing un- 
 heard of in Thorbury. 
 
 That afternoon the captain declared his love 
 to Miss Savylle, and that night he had had a 
 telegram to say that his mother was dead. 
 Three weeks later his father had died of having 
 
ye RING FOR NANCY 
 
 nobody to quarrel with. Captain Edward had 
 found himself worse than penniless, and they 
 had just had to part. For Lord Savylle of 
 Higham threatened to cut off his great-niece's 
 allowance of four hundred a year if she thought 
 of marrying a man who hadn't at least that 
 much above his captain's pay. Captain Edward 
 had indeed gone up to The Pines, Hornsey, 
 definitely intending to ask his aunt to settle 
 four hundred pounds a year on Mary Savylle. 
 His aunt had neither chick nor child; she had 
 always told him to regard himself as her heir, 
 and he would not have had any compunction 
 in asking her. Unfortunately, his aunt had 
 been out, and he had come upon his uncle in 
 a cock-a-hoop mood, and angry because Mrs. 
 Foster had paid the father's debts. Thus, the 
 frightful row had arisen; the captain had felt 
 forced to pay his aunt back; the Common 
 Councilman had a very black eye, which kept 
 him away from business for the best part of a 
 fortnight, and Captain Edward found himself, 
 not four hundred pounds a year richer, but fifty 
 pounds a year poorer. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Jenkins," Mrs. Foster said, "he 
 went away without a word from me, and al- 
 though I made Mr. Foster write letter after let- 
 ter of apology — which does not say that Mr. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 77 
 
 Foster had much spirit, though it shows he 
 had a kind heart and a conscience — Captain 
 Edward always sent the letters back unopened. 
 And I've heard that he has had a very bad 
 time, working terribly hard. And now he's 
 come back, and his eyes have failed, and he 
 can't go on active service any more. And he 
 had to change his name — which was a good 
 honorable name, and it seems a shame. But I 
 was quite firm about it, for I said — though Mr. 
 Foster wasn't himself so set upon it — but I 
 said, 'justice is justice,' and if the boy is to 
 inherit his uncle's money, it is only just that 
 he should spend it in the name of the man 
 that made it, and he's going to marry a ter- 
 rible woman." 
 
 Miss Jenkins asked: *'Don't you like Miss 
 Peabody, ma'am?" 
 
 "No, I don't," Mrs. Foster exclaimed, with 
 a sudden vehemence. "I don't believe I ever 
 disliked anybody else in my life except a man 
 cook we once had." 
 
 **I don't believe you ever did dislike anybody, 
 ma'am," Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 "But I disHke Miss Peabody," Mrs. Foster 
 said. "Before she got the major she was quite 
 different, you would have said that butter 
 wouldn't melt in her mouth. And I did my 
 
78 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 very best to bring the match off, because I 
 thought she would save the major from the 
 road to ruin. But now she's got him she's per- 
 fectly different. Why, she might be that odious 
 man cook, with her impertinence and her offish 
 ways. I know I'm a stupid woman, but it's 
 no one's business to tell me so all day long. 
 And the eyes she makes at Mr. Foster, and the 
 compliments he pays her on her ability. And 
 to tell the truth, she's a great deal more fitted 
 for Mr. Foster than the major — they're more 
 of an age, anyhow. I tell you what it is. Miss 
 Nancy" — and Mrs. Foster's eyes became almost 
 shining with rage — "I'd give almost any woman 
 four hundred a year — I'd give it to Miss Dela- 
 mare or Mrs. Kerr Howe, or I'd give it to you 
 for the matter of that — if you would get the 
 major away from that woman. You couldn't 
 do it, of course, because the major is so set on 
 his duty. And he considers it is his duty to 
 marry that odious old maid. Why, her teeth 
 aren't even her own. But you couldn't get him 
 away." 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Miss Jenkins, 
 and she smoothed down her apron. "But upon 
 my word, ma'am, it's rather a wicked sug- 
 gestion." 
 
 "I don't see it's a wicked suggestion," Mrs. 
 
I 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 79 
 
 Foster said. "I've got to think of my poor 
 nephew's happiness. Now, Miss Delamare is a 
 dear Httle thing, and I've often felt I should 
 like to adopt her as a daughter. And Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe isn't so nice, but she'd make the major 
 an intellectual companion. And as for you. 
 Miss Nancy, I like you the best of them all, for, 
 though I've only known you for the three days 
 we've been down here getting ready, I feel 
 that you are quite one of the family — though 
 of course your family is not so good as his. 
 But his father married below him, marrying 
 my sister; and though they did quarrel like cat 
 and dog, it was one of the happiest marriages 
 I have ever known, and they died within three 
 weeks of each other." 
 
 Miss Jenkins pushed her hands into the pock- 
 ets of her alpaca apron. 
 
 "You can't be quite in earnest, ma'am." 
 Mrs. Foster answered quaintly: "I don't 
 know that I should be so in earnest if it was 
 possible to happen, but as it is, I'm in deadly 
 earnest. I'd rather see the major married to 
 you than to that odious woman, with her odious 
 lap-dog. Even the lap-dog himself hates her. 
 But you couldn't get him away from her. No- 
 body could. He's a gentleman, and he's passed 
 his word to marry the lady." 
 
80 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "But don't you think," Miss Jenkins said, 
 "that the lady might be got to throw the gentle- 
 man over?'* 
 
 "Never!" Mrs. Foster exclaimed, "never, 
 while there is a sun in the sky, or a railway 
 from Hornsey to the city, which is almost the 
 same thing." 
 
 And then she added with singular vivacity: 
 "Do you say that's wicked. Miss Nancy? Well, 
 then it's just got to be wicked. I've never done 
 anything wicked in my life, and I'd often 
 wanted to know what it would feel like. And if 
 I'm doing something wicked now, it feels very 
 good — that's what it feels. And I don't won- 
 der at people going on being wicked." 
 
 They heard at that time distinctly a voice 
 say, "Hallo, aunt!" from the stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Foster exclaimed, "That's the major!" 
 and positively she turned pale. She ran out in 
 the passage, and coming back with the major 
 following her, she burst out: "I do hope you 
 find everything you want, Edward. Miss Jen- 
 kins, here ..." 
 
 But Miss Jenkins was not in the room, al- 
 though, as far as Mrs. Foster could remember, 
 she had not passed them on the staircase. 
 
 The major, who, being an Irishman, knew 
 exactly how to please all women, took a long 
 look round the bedroom. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 81 
 
 "Well, it's a jolly old room," he said, "and 
 large enough for the officers of a whole regi- 
 ment to sleep in. And that's what I like." 
 And he added cheerfully, "Are there any ghosts 
 about?" 
 ■ Mrs. Foster said: "You know your uncle 
 and I don't hold with ghosts. It's not a mod- 
 ern belief at all." 
 
 "Well, well!" the major said cheerfully. "I 
 guess you can't hold with them when they come 
 whether you ask them or not." 
 
 Mrs. Foster's old butler was bringing in the 
 major's things one by one. Mrs. Foster shiv- 
 ered a httle. 
 
 "Oh, dear Brent!" she said — "I'm going to 
 call you Brent, instead of Edward, so as to 
 keep you in remembrance of the name you 
 changed. But, oh, my dear Brent, don't talk 
 to me about ghosts and things. It makes me 
 nervous in this queer old house. Your uncle 
 doesn't hold with ghosts, but I know he's ner- 
 vous, walking about the dark corridor. It's 
 only Olympia who keeps us all in our places." 
 
 The major said: "Oh, poor Olympia! How's 
 her dog?" 
 
 Mrs. Foster stiffened in the very slightest. "I 
 am bound to say," she exclaimed, "that her dog 
 is a very troublesome little animal. It snaps at 
 everybody in the house, even your uncle." 
 
S2 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "And the funny thing is/* the major said, 
 "that the little beast has taken such a fancy to 
 me. Of course, I bought it for her, but that 
 isn't a reason why it should love me, and not 
 her. When I saw it in the shop in Seven Dials, 
 it seemed to me exactly the sort of animal to 
 be the proper protector for a maiden lady — I 
 mean, of course, before I had any idea of mar- 
 rying Olympia." 
 
 "So you gave it to her," the aunt asked, "be- 
 fore you were engaged?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," the major said innocently. "That 
 was what gave her the idea, when she saw that 
 the little beast was always running after me. 
 She said that she knew I couldn't be wholly 
 bad." He seemed to be on the point of sigh- 
 ing, and then he said briskly: 
 
 "Anyhow, it*s a jolly old place, and you're a 
 jolly old woman, and we're going to have a 
 jolly old time, and if some jolly old ghosts turn 
 up, that will make it all the jollier." 
 
 Mrs. Foster said: "I don't know about that, 
 my dear; there are said to be ghosts to this 
 family. But their records are most disreputable 
 — women as well as men " 
 
 The major let out lightly: "Oh, well, they 
 won't disturb me." 
 
 But Mrs. Foster exclaimed: "My dear, I 
 
RING FOR NANCY 83 
 
 don't like to hear you talk like that. Disre- 
 putableness is always a painful thing to hear 
 of, even though it may have taken place hun- 
 dreds of years ago." 
 
 The major exclaimed: "Yes, I alv^ays used 
 to wonder that they let us read the Book of 
 Kings at school. But, anyhow, if there aren't 
 any ghosts, I hope youVe got some sliding 
 doors and secret panels on top." 
 
 "I don't know," Mrs. Foster said, and she 
 gazed rather apprehensively at the fierce man 
 on the large panel. "I shouldn't wonder if 
 there were dozens. From the way Miss Jen- 
 kins vanished just now, it wouldn't in the least 
 surprise me if there were a secret door into 
 this very room." She looked again at the pic- 
 ture. "But some of the doings of those gen- 
 tries," she said, "were such that no modern 
 person would care to contemplate." 
 
 "I don't know about that," the major said; 
 and then he asked: "Who have you got stop- 
 ping here, old woman? I know there's Olym- 
 pia; and Flossie Delamare and Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe came down with me in the train. But 
 who are the rest of your rum old menagerie?" 
 
 "I'd have had Lady Savylle," Mrs. Foster 
 said, "but she's not coming down for a fort- 
 night or so. And then she's going to the 
 
84 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Dower House. She wouldn't stop with us, 
 though we told her that it was her own house 
 if we did pay her rent for it." 
 
 The major exclaimed: "Lady Savylle? Lady 
 Savylle, of Higham? This is her house? My 
 God, why didn't I remember?" 
 
 "Of course you know," Mrs. Foster said, 
 with a little note of triumph in her voice, "Hig- 
 ham itself passed to the Duke of Rothbury in 
 1842. Lady Savylle has only inherited this 
 house and about two thousand acres." 
 
 Mrs. Foster was a little triumphant because 
 she had remembered at least this detail. 
 
 The old butler had opened up the major's 
 portmanteau and unpacked most of the articles 
 from his kit-bag, and just at that moment he 
 noiselessly withdrew. 
 
 "My dear," Mrs. Foster said, "I think it's 
 about time that we had a little explanation." 
 
 "I think it's just about it, old woman," the 
 major said. 
 
 "Of course, I'm only a stupid old person," 
 Mrs. Foster began. 
 
 "Of course, of course," the major said affec- 
 tionately. 
 
 "I never took any prizes at school," she con- 
 tinued, "and I don't suppose I ever shall now. 
 But when you went away like that, and dis- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 85 
 
 appeared, your uncle said that you had prob- 
 ably gone to lead the idle and dissolute life of 
 an army officer." 
 
 ''Well, so I had, so I had," the major said 
 amiably. "Three shillings a day, and be your 
 own dustman." 
 
 "But I knew better," his aunt continued, 
 "and when you didn't answer our letters I just 
 asked and asked. I don't mean to say that I 
 put detectives on you, my dear, but I just 
 asked and asked everywhere. Whenever I 
 heard of people coming home from India, I 
 either got introduced to them somehow or I 
 just simply invited them to dinner, without 
 knowing them, which was easy, as your uncle 
 was a Common Councilman. I asked and 
 asked. If there wasn't any other way of doing 
 it, I just told them that I was anxious for news 
 about you, and nobody was rude to me, even 
 though I didn't know them. W^hy, I even went 
 to the old Duke of Cumberland and asked him 
 what there was between you and that Mary 
 Savylle, who's now the Lady Savylle, of Hig- 
 ham." 
 
 "There were six thousand miles between us," 
 the major said grimly. 
 
 "And I got to know ten or a dozen officers, 
 and one of them was an old Colonel Sax of your 
 
86 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 regiment, and they all said you were working 
 very hard. And Colonel Sax said you weren't 
 a very brilliant officer, but a regular good 
 plodder." 
 
 *'Well, that was kind of Colonel Sax," the 
 major said. 
 
 "And then," Mrs. Foster continued, "I came 
 upon Miss Flossie Delamare, and afterward 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe, and then I knew that the sort 
 of women you picked up were quite the nicest 
 sort of women." 
 
 "The devil you did!" the major exclaimed. 
 
 "And I knew, or I supposed you were just 
 working up to get Lady Savylle, and I hoped 
 and prayed you would. That I did, when I 
 heard how good you'd been to Miss Delamare 
 and paid her passage back. And I'm sure you 
 had to go to those dreadful Indian money- 
 lenders to do it, and you had to suffer for it 
 afterward. And then you went to Somaliland 
 and I lost track of you, until I saw in the mili- 
 tary information in The Times, that you were 
 ordered home. And then I saw in the 'Army 
 and Navy Gazette about your brilliant examina- 
 tion, and that same day you sent Olympia to 
 me and she told me that you were going blind. 
 And then I knew that you would never have 
 your Mary Savylle, after all the way you'd 
 
RING FOR NANCY 87 
 
 worked and suffered in that sun and that hor- 
 rible dusty place, and then . . ." The major 
 sank down in a long deep armchair before the 
 fire. 
 
 "Olympia was exaggerating," he said. "I 
 wasn't going blind. I was only pipped for 
 active service. And I wasn't engaged to Olym- 
 pia. I never even thought of it." 
 
 "She said," Mrs. Foster said vindictively, 
 "that it was practically certain to come, and 
 she showed me that horrid little dog that you 
 had given her, and, oh, my boy, my boy, I knew 
 you'd given up." 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't say that about a man," the 
 major said, "who was just going to get en- 
 gaged to a charming lady. That's the begin- 
 ning of life, that isn't chucking up the sponge." 
 
 "But she isn't your sort, she isn't your kind; 
 she isn't meant to make you happy," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter almost wailed. "And, oh, I was desperately 
 unhappy, and I took a stern determination. 
 Yes, I did, a determination. I just set my 
 teeth and I said: *My boy shall have a good 
 time now, if he never did in his life.' And I 
 said I'd get the best house I knew in England 
 for him to spend his last days of freedom in. 
 And I ordered in the best wines and the best 
 cigars, at twelve guineas a hundred — though it 
 
SS RING FOR NANCY 
 
 was Miss Jenkins who chose them, and she 
 said they were the kind you used to smoke at 
 Thorbury." 
 
 "But, I say, old woman," the major said, 
 "who is Miss Jenkins? And why did you 
 choose this house of all the houses in the 
 world?" 
 
 A look of real triumph charmed in Mrs. Fos- 
 ter's eyes. 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed. "I said to myself, 'If 
 Edward is going to live in prison for the rest 
 of his life, I'm going to let him see his old 
 friends for the last time.' And so I asked Miss 
 Delamare and Mrs. Kerr Howe because they 
 seemed so fond of you, and I was perfectly de- 
 termined that I would get Lady Savylle, too. 
 And I thought of that plan of getting her 
 ladyship to let me this house, because I 
 thought it was sure to be full of portraits of 
 her, and remembrances of her. And I was de- 
 termined to ask her ladyship to be good 
 enough to come and stop with us while we 
 were here, because you would be the son of 
 the house." 
 
 "I say, old woman," the major said, "that 
 was an awfully rum thing to do." 
 
 "Well, I did it," Mrs. Foster said. "I wrote 
 to her ladyship in exactly those words. I've 
 
 1 
 
RING FOR NANCY 89 
 
 never seen her herself, but she answered kindly 
 that she couldn't come and stop with us . . ." 
 
 The major said: "Ah!'' 
 
 "But that she would leave her own maid to 
 help settle us in, and that she would be coming 
 to stop at the Dower House just at the end of 
 the garden next week." Mrs. Foster paused to 
 take breath. 
 
 "So there you are," she said; "you will have 
 your old friends and your old wine and your 
 old cigars, and there are six of the best horses 
 that could be got from Whiteleys'. And I 
 forced your uncle to agree to it all, for, I said, 
 if he didn't, I would take my money out of the 
 business. For my father saw to it that all my 
 money was settled on me, under trustees, with 
 the permission to your uncle to use it as capi- 
 tal, and I said I would take all my money out 
 and come and live down here with you. For he 
 and I have lived together twenty-five years, 
 and I don't see why we shouldn't separate now. 
 I don't, for Fve had a great deal to put up 
 with, though I shouldn't like anybody else to 
 hear it. . . . And then your uncle said quite 
 mildly that he didn't see anything against the 
 scheme, and that he'd long thought of making 
 you his heir, because we were childless, and he 
 knew Fd like to adopt you. But that was only 
 
m RING FOR NANCY 
 
 what he said. It was really Olympla's doing. 
 She can twist him round her little finger. They 
 sit and hold confabulations together by the 
 hour, leaving me quite out in the cold. And it 
 was she who got your uncle to make you his 
 heir." 
 
 "Well, you can hardly blame her for that, 
 old woman," the major said mildly. 
 
 "She didn't do it for you," Mrs. Foster ex- 
 claimed, "she did it to get the money for her- 
 self. But I said that if you were going to have 
 all that money, you must change your name to 
 Foster, for it only seemed just." 
 
 There was quite a long pause, and then the 
 major said: 
 
 "Well, old woman, you don't often break out, 
 but when you do ruzzle round, you certainly do. \ 
 It's an extraordinary rum collection you've got j 
 together." 
 
 "Oh, Teddy, dear," Mrs. Foster exclaimed on 
 a note of anguish, "I do hope there's nothing 
 wrong. I do hope there's nothing you don't 
 like." 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing wrong," the major said. 
 "It's only just queer." He got up from his 
 chair and put both his hands heavily and affec- 
 tionately on his aunt's shoulders. "You know, 
 old woman, you do get the most extraordinary 
 
fc 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 91 
 
 ideas into that head of yours. It's all most in- 
 genious jumble. But if you'd got a large barrel 
 of gunpowder and knocked its head off and put 
 half a dozen barrels all round it, and then 
 stuck a lighted candle in the naked powder — 
 well, you couldn't have more ingeniously in- 
 cited a little plot for a jolly big explosion. Ex- 
 cept, of course, that I am a reformed char- 
 acter." 
 
 *'Oh, Teddy," Mrs. Foster said plaintively, 
 "I do hope you don't mean to set the house on 
 fire by smoking in your bedroom and I do hope 
 much more that you aren't going to be a re- 
 formed character until you marry Olympia. 
 Your uncle has forced me to be the president 
 of a society for the suppression of sin, but I do 
 hope and pray that you enjoy yourself here 
 after all the trouble I've taken to make things 
 nice for you." 
 
 "Oh, it's all right, old woman," the major 
 said. "I'm going to have the time of my life; 
 but I guess one can enjoy one's self without 
 sinning." 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked very dubious. 
 
 "I don't know about that," she said, and the 
 major shook her with his laughter because he 
 still had his hands on her shoulders. 
 
 You do have the rummiest old, funniest old 
 
92 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 ideas Tve ever heard of," he said. "And youVe 
 the most courageous old plotter I ever met. 
 ,You don't fear and you do what you want, and 
 you don't care about the consequences!" 
 
 **I don't know that I do — much," Mrs. Foster 
 said. "I'm beginning to think that I don't." 
 
 The major said: "Oh, come, old woman!" 
 
 "I don't, and I don't, and I don't," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter exclaimed. "I'm going to do what I think 
 is right and proper, and — and hang the conse- 
 quences. That's what you'd say, isn't it?" 
 
 The major recoiled a full step from his rela- 
 tive and stood transfixed, holding out his arms 
 before him. 
 
 "In spite of your uncle and in spite of your 
 Olympia, who is a Wesleyan Episcopal," Mrs. 
 Foster said slowly, with an air of fiendish deter- 
 mination, "while we are in this house we — are 
 — all going to church on Sundays." 
 
 The major exclaimed: "By gum!" 
 
 "We shall go there," Mrs. Foster said, "out 
 of deference to Lady Savylle and to set the 
 tenants a good example." 
 
 "But if you're . . ." the major said slowly, 
 "if you're what you are in fact, surely it isn't a 
 good example to go to church." 
 
 "I don't care," Mrs. Foster said. "It's a 
 sign to them that you are master of this house. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 93 
 
 You would not like the other thing; it is not 
 what youVe been used to. Besides, it would be 
 against true hospitality to use Lady Savylle's 
 house in order to spread a form of belief that 
 her ladyship would not approve of." 
 
 **0h, I don't believe Mary would care a 
 button." 
 
 "Well, that's enough about that," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter said. And then to change the subject she 
 asked, after a long pause: 
 
 "My dear, did you know Lady Savylle very 
 well?" 
 
 "Well . . ." the major said. "Oh, yes, very 
 well." And his manner seemed to shut in as if 
 he had snapped his lips together. 
 
 "But tell me just one thing," Mrs. Foster 
 pleaded. "You were engaged to her. . . ." 
 
 "Yes, for three days," the major said in a 
 short tone. "I'd only known her a fortnight. 
 There, there, that's enough." 
 
 "If you'd only told me ! If you'd only told 
 me!" Mrs. Foster almost wailed. "If you'd 
 only told your uncle ! He would have made it 
 all right. He would have seen that you were 
 in earnest . . ." 
 
 "Oh, chuck it, old woman!" the major said. 
 "I tell you, I won't talk about it. It would 
 have been a pretty way to show that I was in 
 
94 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 earnest, just to marry a girl who might be 
 coming into a title. If that's earnestness, damn 
 it, I say." 
 
 "But it might have meant a seat for the 
 County," Mrs. Foster pleaded. "That was how 
 your uncle looked at it, after the duke had 
 very kindly told me he thought you were en- 
 gaged to the young lady, . but he couldn't be 
 sure." 
 
 The major said: "There, there, that will do." 
 
 "You know how strong a Nonconformist 
 Unionist your uncle is," Mrs. Foster said. "He 
 would have made any sacrifices for the party 
 or to get you into it." 
 
 "Oh, I know what my uncle is," the major 
 said; "the blessed Unionist party is a thing no 
 decent man would stand for, because of people 
 like him and his sacrifices. You're a good sort, 
 but he's a confounded prig, and a tuft-hunter — 
 and unsuccessful at that. He never gets a 
 chance to bow down to his boots to an honor- 
 able's third son, except at some charity func- 
 tion. He wanted me to marry money or a title 
 to show I was an orderly member of society. 
 I wouldn't do it then. I'm doing it now, be- 
 cause my spirit is broken; I'm used up. Done. 
 I go out. I'm marrying Olympia for her 
 money — that's the dirty truth, and I'm not 
 
RING FOR NANCY 95 
 
 proud of it. You know he would throw me 
 over to-morrow if she threw me over. So, I 
 shall behave so that she will not throw me 
 over — and, of course, I'll do my best to give her 
 a good time. That's my duty, and I'll do it." 
 
 In moments of agitation the major spoke like 
 one of his sergeants. He finished with, "There, 
 there, there!" And then he began again agi- 
 tatedly: "I tell you, I'm tired! Used up! I 
 must have comfort, quiet! I can't stodge away 
 any more. God knows I've done enough to 
 get it — and it hasn't all been any good. Worse 
 than useless! Worse! If I hadn't sweated so 
 hard, I should be in a better position! I'd have 
 had better eyes — that would mean more money ! 
 That's what it comes to! I slogged like that 
 for Mary — upon my word, just for Mary! 
 We could have got along on a major's pay, out 
 there. Just got along! And then the blasted 
 girl goes and gets rotten titles and moldy 
 houses to her back on the day the bottom drops 
 out of me. The very black, beastly, blighted 
 day . . ." 
 
 In her turn Mrs. Foster said: "There, there, 
 there !" 
 
 "That very same hateful day," he raved on. 
 And then he fixed his aunt with a glaring gaze. 
 
 "Look here," he said, "don't think that I'm 
 
96 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 not young enough to enjoy a good time — and 
 to deserve it. God knows I can laugh like an- 
 other, and lark above most. Young! I'm the 
 youngest major in the British army, for the 
 rotten twopence halfpenny that it's worth! 
 And consider the time that IVe had. The long 
 evenings with nothing to do; and the beastly 
 dust going pink in the sunsets, and the nigger 
 johnnies sitting eating dough under the wilted 
 palm-trees — and everything stinking of paraffin, 
 and some sort of beastly animal yap, yap, yap- 
 ping away from the filthy, blistering, low hills! 
 Why, I've got the feel of it in my bones, and 
 not all the iced wine of Champagne, and not 
 all the kisses that were ever kissed by a hun- 
 dred women, could wash it out again. Wine! 
 Kisses! I've drunk lukewarm pale ale, and I 
 could have screamed, mad ghut, and run amuck 
 in the native quarters. . . ." He stopped and 
 looked at his aunt. "There, there, old woman," 
 he said, "that's how it feels. But don't you 
 worry. I'll be shocking Olympia, so that it 
 tickles her and makes her good all over to- 
 morrow! What you feel in your bones, don't 
 show in your face." 
 
 His aunt reflected a moment. 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's what Olympia likes!" she 
 said. "That's the fascination. You can shock 
 
RING FOR NANCY 97 
 
 her, and she thinks that you are bold and dash- 
 ing and dangerous — and that she's got you, 
 and can trust you." 
 
 "Well, she has," the major said. "And, 
 please God, she can." 
 
 Again Mrs. Foster remained reflective for a 
 long minute. And then she asked slowly: 
 
 "Then, it is true that a man can remain faith- 
 ful to a woman for a long time — for ten years 
 
 "Eight years, nine months, and a week," the 
 major said. "And only saw her once for four- 
 teen days. Yes, it's true enough. But what's 
 there wonderful in that?" 
 
 "It's what every woman really wants to 
 know," Mrs. Foster said, "and she hasn't ever 
 really any chance of knowing." 
 
 "Oh, well," the major said rather tiredly, "it's 
 so. It's certainly so, but looking at the matter 
 from the inside, as I've got to do, I can't see 
 that it's anything particularly wonderful or 
 romantic, or even particularly meritorious. It's 
 something just funny, rather than anything 
 else." 
 
 "I can't see how it's funny," Mrs. Foster said; 
 "you might say that it was sad, or sorrowful, 
 or something." 
 
 "Then that would just make it grotesque," 
 
98 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 the major said. "And I dare say it is grotesque 
 — a mixture of the sorrowful and the funny. 
 See here, I don't mean to say that I spent my 
 whole time sighing about Mary Savylle, or 
 that I hung for hours over her photograph. I 
 didn't! I haven't got a photograph; I lost it be- 
 fore I got as far as Aden, and I cut a photo- 
 graph of somebody like her out of an illustrated 
 paper, and it used to stand on my writing-table 
 in quarters, until I got sick of it and chucked 
 it into the Ganges. No, I didn't sigh; perhaps 
 I didn't sigh once in ten years. I'm not the 
 sighing sort, anyhow. But it was like ... it 
 was like. . . ." The major paused and cast about 
 in his mind for an illustration. "It was like 
 being always slightly thirsty, or having a very 
 slight touch of indigestion all the time." 
 
 "Oh, my dear," Mrs. Foster expostulated. 
 
 "Well, that is what it really was mostly 
 like," the major said, "but I'll withdraw it if it 
 shocks you. It was something that spoilt 
 everything; that took the edge off everything. 
 I don't mean to say that I never looked at an- 
 other woman. There wasn't even anything in 
 honor to bind me not to. No engagement. It 
 was just broken off. She never even wrote to 
 me, because her confounded old great-uncle 
 said that if she did he would cut off her allow- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 99 
 
 ance, which was all she had to live on, and of 
 course, she wasn't the sort to do it in secret. 
 I shouldn't have wanted it. She'd just gone 
 right out of my existence. I never heard from 
 her, I never heard of her. Just gone ! Dropped 
 down an infernal deep well. 
 
 "And that's what I mean by saying that it 
 took the edge off things. Of course, you un- 
 derstand that the only thing that is really in- 
 teresting to a young man is young women. 
 That is a heart talk, so you needn't be shocked. 
 And there wasn't any woman that came along 
 that interested me in the least. Not one that 
 made by pulse beat in the least quicker. Of 
 course I talked to 'em; and of course I larked 
 with them. I'm not Irish, I suppose, for noth- 
 ing. But that was just it — they didn't interest 
 me. I had to cover up yawns sometimes, in 
 the midst of the larkiest of larks. That sort 
 of thing." 
 
 "That's what I call love," Mrs. Foster said. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," the major answered; 
 "of course, if you're satisfied, you're satisfied. 
 But I don't want to pose as a sentimental char- 
 acter. If any other woman had come along 
 that did interest me " 
 
 "But no one could have," Mrs. Foster said. 
 "There wouldn't be one in the world." 
 
100 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Oh, that's probably sentimental gap," the 
 major retorted; "you are a silly old, senti- 
 mental old woman. It's absurd that in the 
 millions and millions there are, there shouldn't 
 have been one that couldn't make me forget a 
 tomboy that I had only seen for three weeks 
 in my whole life, and been engaged to for three 
 days. Supposing that it was the look in the eye 
 that did it, and the high instep, and the swing- 
 ing walk of the creature that she was — do you 
 mean to tell me — supposing that that was what 
 I was looking for — that I shouldn't have found 
 the same look and the same voice, and the same 
 way the black hair of her curled, in a thousand 
 others? The doctrine of chances forbids it. 
 If there's a chance of a million to one against 
 it, aren't there about five hundred million 
 women in the world?" 
 
 "Then you never looked for one," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter said. 
 
 "Oh, you rotten, sentimental old ass," the 
 major addressed his aunt. "I dare say you've 
 got at the truth of it. I never did look for 
 one. But don't you go running away with the 
 idea that that was love. It wasn't. It was a 
 sort of selfishness. It was like this. I felt' 
 that my job in life was to make myself the sort 
 of career that would lit me to pick up with 
 
RING FOR NANCY 101 
 
 Mary again. Don't you understand? I plod- 
 ded and stodged for just that, and nothing else. 
 That was why when on the same day the bot- 
 tom fell out of me, and Mary jumped up in 
 the social scale as if she'd been a balloon that 
 you'd let go the ropes of, I just proposed right 
 away to Olympia. It wasn't love; it wasn't 
 morals or faith; it was just want of interest 
 and selfishness." 
 
 "Now, you can say what you like, my dear 
 Edward," Mrs. Foster said, "Fm not a very 
 clever woman, but I can tell a great A from a 
 bull's foot. But that's the sort of love that 
 any sensible woman would want to get hold of. 
 It isn't your ramping, tearing, raging, obstrep- 
 erous sort of young man that any woman in 
 her senses would want, as they say in the poem 
 that I never can remember the words of, but 
 it's something about the burden of my song, 
 though what that means I haven't the least 
 idea of. But you'll want to be getting to bed, 
 and not stopping talking to an old woman like 
 me, who goes on and on talking about one and 
 the same thing. But there's one thing I would 
 like to tell you, because it was my very own 
 idea. There'll be lots of people that you know 
 coming down in a day or two — all the people 
 that I told you I'd picked up because they 
 
I 
 
 102 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 knew you, and your uncle's cook is famous 
 throughout the city. But what I want to tell 
 you is, sometimes, as I dare say you've heard, 
 rather unpleasant things happen in these large 
 country houses." 
 
 "Oh, I've heard it all right," the major said. 
 "Well," Mrs. Foster exclaimed triumphantly, 
 "with the help of Miss Jenkins, who knows the 
 house from roof to cellar, I've arranged that 
 all the men — the gentlemen — sleep in one wing 
 of the house, and all the ladies in the other." 
 
 Again the major ejaculated: "My God!" 
 
 "Of course it's a little confusing — the house 
 is," his aunt continued. "At any rate, there 
 are the dining-room and the breakfast-room, 
 and a whole lot of halls and oflfices in between 
 the two wings. That is to say, they are not 
 rightly two wings. If I understand the ar- 
 rangement, they are really back to back. But 
 at any rate the sexes are separated. Don't - 
 you think it's splendid?" i 
 
 "Oh, splendid! splendid!" the major said; 
 "and you are the most dangerous old inflam- 
 matory I've ever come across." 
 
 His aunt smiled rather complacently. 
 
 "My dear," she said, "when a woman comes 
 to my age there's a certain change comes over | 
 her. God knows I've been a good wife to your 
 
RING FOR NANCY 103 
 
 uncle. But when a man's sixty he looks forward 
 to retiring — so does a woman, and I'm over 
 sixty. I've looked after your uncle's house; 
 I've lived up to the standard of your uncle's 
 requirements, whether in morals or what they 
 call customs — or is it conventions? And pre- 
 cious foolish many of his morals and customs — 
 or if it's conventions, then conventions — have 
 seemed to me, often and often. But now the 
 time has come when I mean to do what pleases 
 me, and what seems right to me. I don't mean 
 to say that I should have done it if you hadn't 
 introduced that Olympia into this house — but 
 if your uncle can be influenced by one woman, 
 he's got to do what another wants — and that 
 one's me — or else he's got to do without her." 
 
 The major said: *'0h, dear, I do hope 
 Olympia hasn't . . ." 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean anything of that sort," 
 Mrs. Foster answered. "Your uncle always 
 must have some one to philander with in his 
 silly complimenting manner, which reminds 
 me of an old sheep trying to make love to a 
 chicken. A.nd when it was a matter of Flossie 
 Delamare, I didn't mind. For she's a dear, 
 good, bright little thing, and deserves all she 
 gets, and it's a great comfort to me to know 
 her, for she does bring a little brightness into 
 
104 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 my life. And I don't mind if your uncle builds 
 her a dozen theaters as long as he can afford 
 it. And I wish it was her you were marrying, 
 for I've often thought of adopting her. 
 
 "And I don't really object to Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe, though she has rather pushed her way 
 into the house, and some of her opinions are 
 . . . well, I haven't got any words for them. 
 Still, I don't object to her, because she does 
 pay me the attention of reading her books to 
 me, and very pretty, if not quite proper, some 
 of them are. But, when it comes to Olympia 
 — why, she treats me all the time as if she 
 were a shop-walker trying to tell me that I 
 don't know tulle from nun's veiling — which is 
 the most insulting thing that can happen to 
 one. But there, there, you've had enough of 
 me. Good night." 
 
 "I say, wait a minute," the major said. 
 "Where does that beastly dog of poor 
 Olympia's sleep?" 
 
 Mrs. Foster answered: "On the door-mat 
 outside her door. She says that she can not 
 sleep if the dog isn't somewhere near, and at 
 the same time, it's unhealthy to have an ani- 
 mal sleeping in your bedroom." 
 
 "Oh, I know, I know," the major groaned. 
 "It was like that at Gordon Square. And in 
 
RING FOR NANCY 105 
 
 the middle of the night the horrid little animal 
 will come whining and scratching at my door, 
 and then poor dear Olympia will discover that 
 her dog isn't outside her door. And she'll come 
 to find the dog, and I shall have to get up 
 and invent loving speeches through the door 
 at four in the morning." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think that either the dog or 
 Olympia could find their way through all these 
 dark, old, winding corridors, that I'm almost 
 afraid to go along myself," Mrs. Foster said, 
 and she shivered a little. 
 
 "That only shows," the major answered, 
 "that you don't know either of them. They'll 
 come all right, for all you've separated the 
 sexes so neatly." 
 
 Mrs. Foster caught at that moment the eye of 
 the fierce dark man in the panel, and she dis- 
 appeared quickly into the terrors of the corri- 
 dors, calling over her shoulder: 
 
 "Well, you've had enough of me/* 
 
IV 
 
 ^TpHE major shut his door, and then remained, 
 -*■ pottering round his room, making mut- 
 tering exclamations at what he saw — the fire- 
 dogs, the great fireplace, the immense bed, the 
 walls hung with dark tapestry. Then he came 
 back to the fireplace, and standing before it he 
 quoted aloud: 
 
 "So that there, in a manner of speaking, we 
 all are." 
 
 He sauntered over to the large mahogany- 
 washing-stand, and exclaimed over that: 
 
 "Hullo, no hot water! Poor aunt always did 
 have the worst servants in Christendom." Then 
 he pulled a long strip of embroidery that hung 
 at the side of the fire and sat down to await 
 the servant. He did not even take off his coat, 
 for he supposed the servant would be a woman, 
 and he disliked any woman to see him in his 
 shirt. It seemed to be disrespectful to them. 
 He sat in his armchair with his back to the 
 panel, just thinking and thinking. And sud- 
 denly he said: 
 
 "Well, there aren't going to be any more 
 106 
 
RING FOR NANCY 107 
 
 cakes and ale — that's flat." He heard a slight 
 knock from somewhere and sat still looking at 
 the door. And then quite distinctly, but very 
 softly, he heard from behind his back some- 
 thing that sounded like his name: "Teddy 
 Brent." He really jumped quite out of his 
 chair, and seeing just behind his chair the figure 
 of a maid in cap and apron, he exclaimed almost 
 violently : 
 
 "Hullo, who the devil are you? What do 
 you mean by springing up like that?'* 
 
 "I came in through the little door behind 
 the hangings," the servant said. "That is the 
 door her ladyship likes us to use, because her 
 ladyship dislikes seeing us about the corri- 
 dors, sir." 
 
 She spoke very stiffly and correctly, with her 
 eyes on the floor, and she added: "What did 
 you please to want, sir?" 
 
 "Oh, hang it all," the major said, "you don't 
 come into a man's room and startle him out of 
 his seven senses by calling him Teddy Brent, 
 and then ask him what he pleases to want." 
 
 "I'm very sorry, sir," the maid said. "It 
 slipped out, sir, along of my being her lady- 
 ship's own maid and having served her so long, 
 sir." She spoke very low, distinctly and very 
 levelly, like the most perfect of servants, and 
 
108 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 the major exclaimed — for he felt confused and 
 stupid: 
 
 "Not so many sirs. I know I am your social 
 superior without being reminded of it every 
 three words." 
 
 The maid suddenly laughed, and then she 
 said quickly: 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, it slipped out, sir. 
 It's because I'm so glad for her ladyship, sir, 
 that you've come back, sir. It's made me a 
 little hysterical. I can't help it, sir, remem- 
 bering so well the old days at Holbury, sir, 
 nine years ago and more. What did you please 
 to want, sir?" 
 
 The major stood looking at her with a puz- 
 zled expression. His slight doze in the arm- 
 chair had muddled him. Suddenly he moved up 
 close to her and said: 
 
 "What I want, desperately, is to kiss you, 
 and that's the truth." 
 
 She moved precisely two steps back. 
 
 "That couldn't have been what you wanted 
 when you rang, sir." 
 
 The major sank down once again into his 
 chair. 
 
 "It's extraordinary," he said, "but she couldn't 
 have had the cheek to try It on. No one 
 could." And then he added regretfully: "Oh, 
 
RING FOR NANCY 109 
 
 well, I am a reformed character, when it's all 
 said and done." 
 
 Her ladyship's own maid interjected: "Yes, 
 sir," interrogatively. 
 
 And the major said irritably: "Oh, drop 
 those sirs. They get on my nerves. It's 
 enough to make one believe you're not a ser- 
 vant at all. I never knew one to use so many." 
 
 "Well, you're the odd gentleman," Miss Jen- 
 kins said calmly. "If you would please to tell 
 me what you want. . . . I'm sure her lady- 
 ship would give me a character as long as her 
 life, pretty nearly, sir." 
 
 "I don't believe you're a day older than Lady 
 Savylle," the major said. "You can't have 
 been her nurse, so don't try to make me believe 
 it. .What's your name?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins, who had been standing with 
 her hands at her sides, clasped them behind 
 her. 
 
 "I was born on the same day as her lady- 
 ship," she said, "and I'm sure I've tried to be 
 a faithful servant to her all my life. My name 
 is Nancy Jenkins, called after the Lady Nancy 
 Savylle that was her ladyship's grandmother." 
 
 The major remained glaring moodily in front 
 of him. 
 
 "Oh, I see, I see," he said at last; "a sort of 
 
110 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 foster-sister — that's what they call it, isn't it?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins, with her eyes upon the ground, 
 said: "As you're pleased to say so." 
 
 The major immediately became filled with 
 compunction. "Oh, I really beg your pardon," 
 he said, "I'm afraid I've been too inquisitive. 
 A foster-sister, of course !" 
 
 Miss Jenkins said calmly: 
 
 "Oh, there's no occasion at all, sir. It isn't 
 a painful question at all as far as I know." 
 
 "Then that's all right, that's all right," 
 Major Foster said cheerfully. "I think I under- 
 stand." He recovered, indeed, all his usual 
 calmness of demeanor. He remained, however, 
 silent for a moment, and Miss Jenkins re- 
 marked : 
 
 "Her ladyship has left me in the house here 
 to see that the tenants don't break the heir- 
 looms." 
 
 The major said: 
 
 "Yes, yes, very proper, very proper, I'm sure. 
 So you were at Holbury. And you recognize 
 me! I never noticed you." 
 
 "One doesn't notice one's social inferiors very 
 much, sir," Miss Jenkins said, "but I should 
 have recognized you, sir, anywhere. That's 
 what startled me a little when I came into the 
 room." 
 
"What I want, desperately, is to kiss you" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 111 
 
 The major said: ''Yes, yes; and what about 
 her ladyship? Has she changed much?" 
 
 "You would better know than I, sir," Miss 
 Jenkins said. "I'm too much with her to be 
 able to notice changes, but I shouldn't say her 
 ladyship has changed much." 
 
 The major said: 
 
 "Well, when you see her, tell her that I 
 haven't changed at all. Only tell her that I 
 had the rottenest time any chap ever had, and 
 tell her that I'm having a rotten time now, and 
 that I don't expect to get any better." 
 
 He was looking full at the girl's face. Her 
 lips were very red, and he was almost certain 
 that they never moved; nevertheless, he was 
 almost certain that she said, "Poor fellow!'* 
 And he exclaimed sharply: "What's that?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: "I didn't say anything, 
 sir." 
 
 And he added: "I thought you said, 'poor 
 fellow.' " 
 
 Miss Jenkins said : "I shouldn't be so familiar, 
 sir. From being so much with her ladyship 
 I'm perhaps more familiar than I should be, but 
 I shouldn't be so familiar as that, sir." 
 
 "Oh," the major said, "I am a poor fellow, 
 so I shouldn't mind it much. A reformed char- 
 acter, that's what I am." 
 
112 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Oh, I hope not," Miss Jenkins said. "It 
 would disappoint her ladyship. And you did 
 try to kiss me." 
 
 "Oh, what's that?" the major said despond- 
 ently. "It's almost a duty to kiss a servant. 
 It's not like trying to kiss your equal, but it's 
 not likely to be found out. Don't you see, the 
 whole thing about being a reformed character 
 consists in doing things that aren't likely to be 
 found out." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: 
 
 "Oh, I didn't know, sir. At any rate, no 
 gentleman has tried to kiss me as a matter of 
 duty. Not since Holbury, sir." 
 
 "Do you and her ladyship live in an asylum 
 for the blind?" he asked; and she answered: 
 
 "Thank you, sir, no, sir, I live here with her 
 ladyship. We don't see many gentlemen at 
 all, sir." 
 
 "Oh, I say," Major Foster exclaimed with 
 real concern, "I hope Mary isn't a reformed 
 character. I hope she's had a good time. It 
 would be too rotten if we both of us muffed 
 our lives." 
 
 "Oh, she lives as she pleases," Miss Jenkins 
 said, "but it doesn't include men who want to 
 kiss me." 
 
 The major looked at her seriously. "I don't 
 
RING FOR NANCY 113 
 
 like to hear that," he said. ''She ought to 
 marry." 
 
 "Ah, well, she's like me," Miss Jenkins com- 
 mented. "She doesn't take stock in men." 
 
 The major stood up in front of the fire. 
 **Ah, well," he said, with a slight sigh, "that's 
 the different way it takes. She hasn't run 
 after men — for my sake; and I've run after 
 women — for her sake — if you understand me." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I think I understand," Miss Jen- 
 kins said. "You meant to get her out of your 
 head." 
 
 Major Foster said quickly: "Oh, it wasn't 
 only that. It was hardly that at all. I wanted 
 to get myself out of her head. I thought if I 
 came a holy mucker she would come to hear of 
 it, and that would sicken her of me and so she'd 
 forget." He was not looking at her at that 
 moment, and yet he was perfectly certain that 
 she said, "Poor fellow," when he accused her 
 of it. 
 
 "Why, so I did, sir," she said. "Don't you 
 see that if you'd come a hundred and fifty 
 muckers her ladyship would have understood 
 it was her fault, and only cared for you all the 
 more. Besides, you didn't come any mucker." 
 
 "Oh, that's only what they call the grace of 
 God," the major said. 
 
114 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Miss Jenkins looked at the floor. "If you'd 
 kindly tell me what you pleased to want." 
 
 The major said explosively: 
 
 "Oh, shut up ! I won't tell you what I want. 
 I want to kiss you, I want to hear about Mary, 
 I want . . ." 
 
 "But you're a reformed character, sir," Miss 
 Jenkins reminded him. "You're engaged to 
 Miss Peabody." 
 
 "Oh, poor Olympia!" the major said. "Look 
 here, does Mary talk about me much?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins said briefly: "Her ladyship 
 never mentioned your name." 
 
 "Then how do you know " the major was 
 
 beginning. | 
 
 "Oh, I know, if it isn't presumptuous of me 
 to say so, when her ladyship is thinking of 
 you." 
 
 "Look here," the major said suddenly, "I 
 suppose I'm an awful nuisance to you. But if 
 you could find any use for a fiver . . ." 
 
 Miss Jenkins put her hands behind her back. 
 She smiled suddenly with a sort of gay malice. 
 
 "Her ladyship doesn't allow me to take tips. 
 But if you give me that half threepenny bit, 
 sir . . ." 
 
 The major said "What?" in a really appalled 
 voice. "Give you? . . . What's that?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 115 
 
 Miss Jenkins looked him hardly in the eyes. 
 **If you'll give it to me you may kiss me," she 
 said. 
 
 "I am damned if I will," he said. "I don't 
 know how you come to know about that. I 
 suppose Lady Savylle told you. But I'm par- 
 ticularly damned if I do anything of the sort." 
 
 **I don't believe you've got it," Miss Jenkins 
 said. "I believe you've given it to Miss Pea- 
 body or Miss Delamare or Mrs. Kerr Howe." 
 
 The major fumbled irritably inside his collar. 
 
 "You're a sort of impertinent blackmailer," 
 he said. "But I suppose if you don't see it 
 you'll tell her ladyship that I've given it away." 
 
 "I should certainly be inclined to do so, sir," 
 Miss Jenkins said calmly. With a sawing 
 sound a little gold chain came up above the 
 major's collar, and upon the chain, a very small 
 gold locket into which there fitted visibly a 
 threepenny bit. "There!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Miss Jenkins leaned forward to look at it. 
 "You may kiss me now, if you like," she really 
 murmured. 
 
 But the major exclaimed: "No, certainly not, 
 certainly not." 
 
 "Well, you may kiss me and think it's her," 
 Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 "That would be nonsense," the major an- 
 
116 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 swered. "I don't think I like you at all. I 
 think you've a bad character, even for a serv- 
 ant." 
 
 "Then I'd better go," Miss Jenkins said. 
 "Good night, sir," and she was turning; back 
 toward the little door. 
 
 "But," the major exclaimed, "here, hang it 
 all, wait a minute, I want you to talk about 
 her ladyship." I 
 
 "There is nothing more to tell," Miss Jenkins 
 said. "Besides, it isn't right. You're engaged 
 to Miss Peabody." 
 
 "You've only just remembered that" the 
 major exclaimed. I 
 
 "I wish I hadn't got it to forget," Miss Jen- 
 kins retorted. "But it's too late. I must go." 
 
 "Oh, look here," the major said, "stop and 
 talk. I feel lonely. I'm not a bit sleepy. I am 
 afraid of the ghosts." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: "Oh, get along, sir." 
 
 "Now don't talk like a servant," the major 
 said. "You've been talking like a lady. You 
 know all about this old place?" | 
 
 Miss Jenkins answered: "I know just about 
 as much as Lady Savylle does. Of course, 
 she's only owned it about six months. But 
 she's just soaked herself in it until you might 
 say it was part of herself." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 117 
 
 ^"Well, then, look here," the major asked, 
 iren't there ghosts here? And secret doors? 
 nd sHding panels?" 
 "There's the little door I came in by," Miss 
 } Jenkins said. "That used to be a secret door 
 i for priests to escape by, but it leads to the 
 I servants' quarters; and then there's the panel 
 between this room and the next. That's quite 
 secret. You see, if anybody wanted to escape 
 and the pursuers were in this wing, he would 
 just slip through the panel and shut it again, 
 and out of another secret door that's in Miss 
 Delamare's room, and they'd have to run the 
 whole length of a house before they could 
 catch him. It's one of the most ingenious and 
 complete systems of secret paneling that there 
 is in the kingdom, and her ladyship has had it 
 completely repaired so that it runs on castors." 
 The major said: "A panel. In this room? 
 Where is it?" 
 
 "Well, of course, it's the picture, sir," Miss 
 Jenkins said. "It stands to reason that a bed- 
 room is an out-of-the-way place to put a picture 
 by Van der Burg in. Especially when it is a 
 very valuable picture of the second earl and 
 his family — unless there's special reason for its 
 being there." 
 
 "Oh, it's that?" the major asked. 
 
118 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Miss Jenkins walked deliberately up to the 
 picture, and scrutinizing the large carved frame, 
 she put her finger on the corner of a wooden 
 leaf. 
 
 "If you press this place, just beside the elec- 
 tric light switch," she said, "the panel will slide 
 back into the wall and let you right into the 
 next room." 
 
 "That would be rather a lark," the major 
 said. "Where did you say it exactly was?" i 
 
 Miss Jenkins had turned back into the room 
 and was going toward the little door. She 
 looked back over her shoulder and said: 
 
 "It would let you into Miss Flossie Dela- 
 mare's room, sir." 
 
 The major sank back into his armchair 
 again. 
 
 "Oh, heavens!" he exclaimed; "then don't 
 show me. Don't tell me. I don't want to know 
 anything about knobs and things. Go away. 
 Go away quickly. It's most improper your 
 being here, and I wouldn't mind betting half a 
 crown that Olympia will be here in a minute or 
 two." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you've thought of that at 
 last, sir," Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 "I don't mind saying," the major confessed, 
 "that Miss Olympia is particularly jealous of 
 
RING FOR NANCY 119 
 
 attractive servants. We're only going to have 
 men when v^e are married." 
 
 Miss Jenkins disappeared under the dark 
 hangings, and again the major was perfectly 
 certain that she said: 
 
 "Oh, poor fellow!" 
 
/^NCE again the major was left to potter 
 ^^ about his room and to think. And once 
 more he exclaimed to himself that there, in 
 a manner of speaking, they all were, only, 
 that the deuce of the matter was that he 
 couldn't in the least tell in any manner of speak- 
 ing where in the world it was that they could 
 be said to be, and he certainly hadn't got any 
 hot water, and he knew that he would go with- 
 out it, for he was pretty certain that that young 
 lady wouldn't answer his bell again. 
 
 He was, therefore, just beginning to take off 
 his coat when, with a little click, the electric 
 lights went out, and he grumbled vigorously 
 that it was only in a house tenanted by his 
 aunt that you could be certain of having no 
 water, and equally certain of having no light. 
 
 The fire had rather died down, so that it was 
 pretty darkish as he strolled across the room 
 in a brown study and stretched his hand 
 toward the switch. He couldn't for the life of 
 him make up his mind whether Miss Jenkins 
 was the second woman in the four hundred 
 
 120 
 
RING FOR NANCY 121 
 
 million, or whether she wasn't as he put it, 
 something altogether too preposterously impos- 
 sible — that she could possibly be. It had af- 
 fected him like something impossible, really as 
 if he had seen a ghost. 
 
 He was looking at Miss Flossie Delamare. 
 There wasn't the least doubt that he was look- 
 ing at Flossie. She was in a peignoir that was 
 a foam of pink. She was standing with her 
 back to a dressing-table that was covered with 
 shining things. She was just saying good night 
 to somebody who had just gone out of the 
 room, and she looked exactly like a rather small 
 Olivia out of the Vicar of Wakefield. The walls 
 were all covered with a pink-flowered chintz, 
 the hangings of the four-post bed were all of 
 pink-flowered chintz, and so were the curtains 
 and the valances over the long windows. It 
 was an extraordinary effect, as if it had been 
 sunlight; it was as if he had stepped right 
 straight out of the gloom of the seventeenth 
 century bang into the eighteenth. The panel 
 had just gone; noiselessly upon its castors it 
 had disappeared, and Major Edward Brent Fos- 
 ter found himself explaining to himself that 
 now he could understand why Mary Savylle 
 treasured her house enough to leave her own 
 maid behind her when it contained such perfect 
 
 I 
 
122 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 treasures of old rooms, for over the high white 
 mantelpiece there was an undoubted Gainsbor- 
 ough — a gentleman in a bright red coat point- 
 ing his finger to distant cannon fire. 
 
 But he hadn't the least hesitation about ad- 
 vancing into the room and exclaiming: 
 
 "Here, I say, for goodness' sake, Flossie, lend 
 me one of your candles and let me find that 
 blessed knob again.'' 
 
 Miss Delamare's eyes became rather wide, 
 and she exclaimed: 
 
 "Teddy Brent, by all that's wonderful!" 
 
 "Oh !" the major exclaimed. "Why don't you 
 say, 'Teddy Brent, by all that's damnable?' 
 You've got to remember that my respectable 
 name is Foster now, and that I am a reformed 
 character." 
 
 "Well, I didn't ask you to come into my bed- 
 room, Teddy," Miss Delamare said, with a 
 slightly injured air. "I don't object to your 
 being here. But I didn't ask' you. Your aunt's 
 just gone, I've been sitting talking to her, or 
 goodness knows what dreadful things you 
 mightn't have seen." 
 
 "Well, lend me a candle," the major said. 
 
 "But what's it all about?" Miss Delamare 
 asked. "You don't surely come into a lady's 
 room at a quarter past twelve and ask her for 
 a candle?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 123 
 
 "I do," the major exclaimed. "Don't you 
 understand there's a sliding panel between these 
 rooms? And I touched the knob by accident, 
 and I can't get it shut." And the major dis- 
 appeared once more and began to fumble with 
 the frame of the picture. 
 
 Miss Delamare came delicately across the 
 room bearing one of her candles, and looked in 
 upon the major. 
 
 She said maliciously: "I say, Teddy, aren't 
 you going to admire my new dressing-gown? 
 Aren't you going to kiss me, or anything? 
 Don't you remember Simla and the pucka 
 drives?" 
 
 The major recoiled from the frame, and his 
 shadow w^ent dancing all over the walls and the 
 ceiling of his room. "Don't you come into this 
 room!" he said. "Don't you dare to!" 
 
 "Teddy'' Miss Delamare said, "what's the 
 matter with you?" 
 
 The matter with me," the major said grimly, 
 is that I'm engaged to marry Miss Olympia Pea- 
 |ody." 
 
 'Oh, Teddy," she said woefully, "I knew 
 
 m were going to marry some one pretty awful 
 
 -but that old mummy! Oh, Teddy, that's 
 flaying it too low down." 
 
 The major said: "Well, I'm not proud of it. 
 But I've got to get this panel shut." 
 
124 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 ".Well, it doesn't look as if you could, Teddy," 
 Miss Delamare said amiably. "You'd better 
 let me come in and try. Men aren't a bit of 
 good at that sort of thing." And she came into 
 his room and set the candle down on his dress- 
 ing-table. 
 
 The major moved away from the frame as if 
 he were afraid of her. 
 
 "I don't believe you can do anything," he 
 said gloomily. "And what will poor Olympia 
 say if she hears it's found open in the morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Oh, I guess she'll have some pretty sweet 
 things to say," Miss Delamare said, with her 
 back to him and slightly abstractedly, because 
 she was feeling along the heavily carved frame 
 for the knob. The frame was perhaps a foot 
 and a half broad, of carved wood representing 
 an inextricable tangle of bunches of grapes, 
 roses and thistles. 
 
 "The servant said," the major continued, 
 "that it was just beside the Hght switch." 
 
 The picture was there in its place. Noise- 
 lessly, and as if in a procession they had been 
 drawn along on a car, the three fierce men, the 
 three bare-shouldered, mild, blond women and 
 the children, occupied their places and looked | 
 dim in the light of Miss Delamare's candle. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 125 
 
 "Well, it isn't," Miss Delamare said; "it's a 
 full foot above the switch." 
 { The major, who had sprung back at the 
 ] ghostly arrival of the panel, now sprang for- 
 ward. 
 
 "Hang on to it!" he exclaimed. "For good- 
 ness' sake hang on to it, or we shall be caught 
 like rats in a trap. That thing is the very- 
 devil!" 
 
 "All right, I'm hanging on," Miss Delamare 
 said, appearing as if she were nailed to the wall 
 by one white raised hand. "But it really isn't 
 necessary. It's this knobby thistle thing that 
 does the trick." 
 
 "Then for goodness' sake," the major re- 
 peated, "do the trick and get back to your room 
 and shut it after you, and let's have a night's 
 rest." 
 
 "All right, Teddy," Miss Delamare repeated 
 in her turn; "but you might give me a minute 
 or two, I do think." 
 
 "Not a minute, not a second," the major 
 answered hotly. "It's too dangerous. .We can 
 talk to-morrow." 
 
 "No, we can't, Teddy," she answered. "Your 
 Olympia — you should just have seen her face 
 when your aunt introduced me to her as your 
 very oldest, dearest, darlingest friend — your 
 
126 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Olympia will jolly well see to that. No more 
 talks for us." 
 
 "But it would give my aunt her death if you 
 were found here," the major pleaded. 
 
 "I don't believe it would," she said. "Your 
 aunt's too sensible for that. But I'll go, if it's 
 for her sake. I'm hanged if I would if you'd 
 mentioned the other woman again!" She 
 moved her wrist on the frame. 
 
 "By Jove, Teddy," she said, "I'm wiggling 
 the button thing up and down for all I am 
 worth, and the old panel thing doesn't move a 
 step." 
 
 The major stepped agitatedly toward her, 
 and she continued: "It isn't a thing you press; 
 you click it up and down like a switch. Here, 
 you have a try." 
 
 With a face full of a sort oi awe the major 
 began clicking the thistle-like knob, interjecting 
 from time to time: "Oh, hell!" And with the 
 awe intensified he looked around upon Miss 
 Delamare. 
 
 "It — won't — move," he exclaimed slowly. 
 
 Miss Delamare seated herself comfortably in 
 his armchair and kicked off her shoes. She 
 extended her stockings to the fire. 
 
 "Oh, go on wiggling, I can wait," she said. 
 
 The major set his face to the wall, first on 
 
RING FOR NANCY 127 
 
 one side of the knob and then on the other. 
 He pulled out his penknife and tried to remove 
 what he thought might be some dirt from the 
 workings of the thistle shank. 
 
 "I believe the clockwork's run down," Miss 
 Delamare said. "It must work by a spring, or 
 it couldn't be so quiet. Don't you be too vio- 
 lent or you'll break the whole blessed thing, 
 and then we shall be in the cart." 
 
 The major tried pressing and tried pulling. 
 He drew out his handkerchief and wiped his 
 forehead, and then he ran his nails along the 
 edge of the picture itself. 
 
 "You can kiss me if you like, Teddy," Miss 
 Delamare's voice came to him mockingly. 
 "Then it would be quite like old times." 
 
 The major repeated: "Oh, hell!" 
 
 "No, I didn't say anything so nasty," Miss 
 Delamare continued to mock him. "I said you 
 could kiss me. Don't you remember Simla?" 
 
 The major was fumbling in his kit-bag for 
 a little oil-can he always carried with him. 
 
 "No, I don't," he said. "I don't want to. 
 I'm not going to." He paused to recover his 
 breath. "Look here. There's no cause to open 
 that panel again. You just get out of my room 
 by the usual way." And at a very slight shake 
 of Miss Delamare's head he went on: "I'll give 
 
128 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 you a pearl necklace if you'll go quietly — one I 
 bought for poor Olympia.'* 
 
 Again Miss Delamare shook her head. 
 
 "I'd like to do that Yankee in the eye," she 
 ejaculated. "But if you think, Major Edward 
 Brent Foster, late of His Majesty's One Hun- 
 dred and Twenty-sixth Regiment, that I'm go- 
 ing to walk all along these old corridors in the 
 dark and black beetles . . ." 
 
 "Oh, rot!" the major said. "You used to 
 walk all over Simla in the dark." 
 
 "But not black beetles, Teddy," Miss Dela- 
 mare exclaimed. 
 
 "Up the Bazaar and along the Chota Hazri 
 Drive and King William Street — everywhere." 
 
 "You're remembering Simla now, Teddy," 
 Miss Delamare said softly. 
 
 "I don't want to, but IVe got to," the major 
 conceded, "for the sake of argument. . . ." 
 
 And then Miss Delamare said softly and as- 
 tonishingly: ''Poor fellow!" 
 
 The major really jumped. 
 "Don't say that!" he ejaculated. "That's what 
 Mary's housemaid said!" 
 
 "Well, you are a poor, poor fellow," Miss 
 Delamare corroborated. "Did ums want its 
 old friend out of its little bedroom?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," the major said frankly. "Look 
 
RING FOR NANCY 129 
 
 here, Flossie, do the decent thing and quit. I 
 don't beHeve I'm very well. I've had a sort of 
 message from — from Mary Savylle. You heard 
 me speak of her in Simla.'' 
 
 "Oh, / don't remember Simla!" Miss Dela- 
 mare said, with a toss of her head. "And so 
 this Alary Savylle?" 
 
 "I don't know," the major said. "She hasn't 
 married. . . . But just trot away, there's a good 
 chap. I'll kiss you and give you the pearl neck- 
 lace, too." 
 
 Miss Delamare jumped out of her chair and 
 faced him in her stockinged feet. 
 
 "Who wants your old kisses and who wants 
 your pearl necklaces?" she exclaimed. "Keep 
 them for Olympia Peabody, and joy go with 
 them." 
 
 She moved toward the door and then turned 
 to say: 
 
 "I was never the one to come between a man 
 and his fair and blushing bride. I don't want 
 to spoil sport. I wish you all the joy you can 
 get. ALL!" She paused, and then she added: 
 "But you may kiss me if you want to, Teddy." 
 
 The major looked at her and then at the fire. 
 
 "I don't really think I want to, Flossie," he 
 said slowly. "I don't — I don't believe I can 
 be very well." 
 
 i 
 
130 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Oh, well, Teddy," she said, with a remon- 
 strating voice, *'don't talk to me as if you were 
 seasick and I were a pork-chop. Just say 
 you've seen the girl you really like again. 
 Don't put it as if I didn't look good to kiss. 
 That would damage my professional chances. 
 The other's only a matter of my heart." 
 
 "Oh, lord, no," the major said. "You're a 
 sweet good brick — a lump of nougat — and the 
 prettiest girl — the prettiest girl — only — I just 
 want to get a chance to think . . ." 
 
 Miss Delamare said "Poor fellow!" again, 
 and the major said: 
 
 "Don't say that, I don't like it," again in a 
 really appealing voice; and he added: "Go 
 away as quietly as you can." 
 
 "All right, Teddy," she answered. "I'm in 
 my stockinged feet and I shan't ring a fire-bell. 
 I don't in the least know whether I can find 
 my way, but I guess I'll get in somewhere all 
 right." 
 
 For the third time the major fell into his 
 armchair, but this time he exclaimed: | 
 
 "No, I can't see — even though Flossie doesn't ^' 
 add anything to the problem at all — I can't see 
 in any imaginable manner of speaking where 
 we all . . ." 
 
VI 
 
 'T^HERE came a knock upon his door — 
 -■- quite a loud knock — and he started for- 
 ward in his low chair and sat listening, with 
 his right hand almost on the floor. 
 
 "That'll be Olympia! If she's seen Flossie 
 going . . ." The knocking was repeated more 
 determinedly, and he called, "Come in," because 
 he imagined that Olympia would not really care 
 to come into his room. Mrs. Kerr Howe came 
 in. 
 
 She was in a purple Japanese kimono with a 
 swallow worked in gold thread over each breast, 
 and a great roll and bow at the back, her maid 
 having learned how to put kimonos on in Tokyo. 
 She tripped in — and her smallness gave a cer- 
 tain Japanese air of littleness, resignation and 
 obedience — and remarked: 
 
 "I said we must have an explanation before 
 to-morrow morning. I've come for it." And 
 she sat herself down on the edge of the arm- 
 chair facing the major's and looked at him. 
 The contrast between her appearance and her 
 mental attitude always surprised the major so 
 
 131 
 
132 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 1 
 
 much — he was always expecting some sort of 
 soft fluffiness to come out somewhere — that he 
 simply gave up the situation. He let drop any 
 attempt to understand and to control it with 
 the words: 
 
 "I'm simply too flabbergasted to be able to 
 try to explain anything. I couldn't explain the 
 theory of lateral strains in bridges. And there 
 seem to be ten or a dozen women determined 
 to go after me here. I never knew such a 
 place. It's like being mad." And suddenly he 
 really felt a sort of glad madness — he couldn't 
 imagine that he was not at least going to get 
 some fun out of it. 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe said: "Well, I'm glad you 
 feel some remorse." 
 
 "Oh, it's not exactly remorse," he answered 
 almost gaily. "It's like having indigestion very 
 badly. So that you can't eat with ten dishes 
 that you'd hke to eat very much just under 
 your poor nose." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe said contemptuously: "I 
 suppose you think that I am one of the ten 
 or a dozen. It's like you to regard yourself 
 as the Grand Turk!" 
 
 "It's like you, Juliana," the major said, "to 
 say polygamous things of that sort. I wish I 
 just felt like that." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 133 
 
 "No doubt you do," Mrs. Kerr Howe said 
 with an even deeper note of determination. 
 ''But I'm going to have my explanation. There 
 was not time in the train because I wanted to get 
 my play settled about. And from what I've 
 seen of Miss Peabody — ^your aunt introduced 
 me to her as your oldest, best and most affec- 
 tionate friend, so she's prepared for what's 
 coming — from what Fve seen of the lady I 
 don't imagine she will leave us much time to- 
 gether to-morrow. So it has got to be now." 
 
 *'But, my dear Juliana," the major said, 
 ''I'm a reformed character!" 
 
 *T don't in the least understand you," Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe said; "I haven't asked you to do 
 anything but your simple duty." 
 
 "It's really all I can do to understand my- 
 self," the major laughed. "I can only tell you 
 that I vowed to reform the moment I crossed 
 my aunt's threshold. I'm bound to say that, 
 from what I can make of it, she does not seem 
 anxious that I should. But still, that's my job 
 — a difficult one, but I'm doing my best." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe pointed to Miss Delamare's 
 slippers that were on the fender. 
 
 "You've been having some one to help you," 
 she said amiably. But the major had noticed 
 her eye on them by the speech before the last. 
 
134 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Oh, those?" he said; "that's a little present 
 I brought for poor Olympia. She's so liable to 
 cold that I was airing them a little. But I do 
 wish you'd go." 
 
 And then Mrs. Kerr Howe remarked: "Poor 
 fellow!" 
 
 The major started energetically forward in 
 his chair. 
 
 "Look here," he shouted, "don't you say 
 that. I can stand anything but that. There's 
 nothing the matter with me. I don't want pity." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe was looking down upon the 
 fender with what she meant to be an expression 
 of meditative cruelty. "Do you always give 
 people second-hand hearts — and presents?" she 
 asked. "These slippers have been worn, I see." 
 
 "Why, of course, Juliana," the major an- 
 swered with an engaging air of candor, "I 
 always have presents worn when I bring them 
 from abroad. It saves the customs duty." 
 
 "I see," she said slowly, as if she were work-^ 
 ing out a riddle; "you get Flossie Delamare to 
 wear them before you present them to your 
 fiancee. That's what's called standing in an- 
 other woman's shoes, isn't it? And to save you 
 the trouble of lying any more — I hid in a door- 
 way as she left this room; I had enough de- 
 cency not to want to be seen. She did not 
 seem to mind." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 135 
 
 "Mind?" the major asked. "Why should 
 she mind? She's got a good conscience and 
 a heart of gold." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that I haven't?" Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe asked. 
 
 "I don t see how you can have," the major 
 said, still with his candid air — "coming to a 
 man's rooms like this, and trying to steal him 
 from his fiancee." And then — for as a rule his 
 trouble was that he forgot his past inventions 
 — he had a brilliant stroke of memory, and he 
 added: "You know, my dear Juliana, you are 
 astonishingly off the track here. It won't wash. 
 It really won't wash. When I said in the train 
 that little Flossie was a sort of half-sister of 
 mine, you thought I was lying. But I wasn't. 
 I wasn't, really. It was only what's called in- 
 telligent anticipation. You see, my aunt was 
 in this room a short time ago, saying that she 
 meant to adopt Flossie, because she is a dear 
 Httle thing. And then she went and talked to 
 Flossie, and so, of course, Flossie was naturally 
 excited about it, and wanted to talk to me. 
 And if you don't believe that, you'd better go 
 and ask my aunt if it isn't true. That's what 
 you ought to have understood when I said a 
 sort of half-sister. It is only the president of 
 a society like yours that could put an evil con- 
 struction on the words." 
 
136 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Oh, I have no doubt," Mrs. Kerr Howe said 
 calmly, "you can get your aunt into a tale with 
 you. You're capable of anything in the per- 
 suasion line. And I have no doubt Miss Dela- 
 mare can look after herself." 
 
 "But what about your reputation?" the major 
 asked — "what about your reputation if you 
 should be discovered here?" 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe laughed sharply. 
 
 "Oh, I knew you'd take that line," she said; 
 "but look here, my friend, we live in the twen- 
 tieth century, not the eighteenth, and a woman 
 can perfectly be alone with a man without 
 losing her reputation." 
 
 "Oh, you can tell that to my aunt," the 
 major said. 
 
 "So I have," Mrs. Kerr Howe asserted, "and 
 she entirely agrees with me that censoriousness 
 is the worst of the vices." 
 
 "Oh, well," the major said, "you just tell her 
 to-morrow morning that you came to my room 
 at a quarter past twelve at night, and you'll see 
 the fur fly. You aren't going to be her adopted 
 daughter." 
 
 "Oh, you aren't going to get out of it in 
 that way," Mrs. Kerr Howe said calmly. "I've 
 come here as one man might to another to ask 
 you what you mean to do." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 13Z 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what I jolly well mean to 
 do,'* he answered. "I'm engaged to Miss Olym- 
 pia Peabody, of Boston, Massachusetts, and I 
 mean to be as faithful to her as I can. I used 
 to think that it would be as easy as eating eggs, 
 to be a reformed character under the virtuous 
 roof of my aunt and uncle. But it's more like 
 the temptation of Saint Anthony. I couldn't 
 have imagined that British middle-class fami- 
 lies could be this sort of thing. They evidently 
 are, but I never knew anything like it." 
 
 It was at that point that Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 said softly, with a glance on the ground: 
 
 "Aren't you going to kiss me, Teddy?" 
 
 And the major remarked, with the air of one 
 bathed in monotony: "No, I'm shot if I am!" 
 
 "Don't you," Mrs. Kerr Howe said, "don't 
 you remember Simla?" 
 
 "Oh, you are too late at the fair," the major 
 said. "I don't remember Simla. I don't in the 
 least want to remember Simla. The last time 
 I was there was just after some Abor gentle- 
 man had shot a rotten little stone-headed arrow 
 into my thigh, and the silly little stone head 
 came off, and the bone sawyers had no end of 
 a job in getting bits of it out for months after 
 I got back to the residency. No, I don't in 
 the least want to remember Simla." 
 
138 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "I ought to have been there to nurse you," 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe said. 
 
 "You ought to have been nursing your huj 
 band," the major said grimly. "I had an R. C* 
 Sister." 
 
 And again Mrs. Kerr Howe dropped her 
 voice : 
 
 "Don't you want to marry me, Teddy?" 
 
 "Well," the major said levelly, "speaking as 
 man to man, I don't. I want to marry Olym- 
 pia. That is to say, I don't want to, I've got 
 to. I'm bound in honor, and that's an end 
 of it." 
 
 "But at Simla you said . . ." Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe was beginning. But the major inter- 
 rupted her in a businesslike voice: 
 
 "I never said a single word about marrying 
 you at Simla. I remember every blessed word 
 I did say. How could I have talked about mar- 
 rying you? You had a husband, and you 
 weren't a bit more in earnest than I was. You 
 were just flirting with a subaltern to pass the 
 time, and to get conversation to put in your 
 books. Why, you were ten years older than I 
 was then. Of course, you're younger now. 
 But there is some one else on the scene. I am 
 very sorry — you're too late. You said I was 
 to talk to you as a man. So there, you've got 
 it. I don't want . . ." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 139 
 
 But he was interrupted in his turn by Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe, who exclaimed: 
 
 "Why! where did that horrible little dcg 
 come from?" 
 
 And, indeed, a very small Pekinese spaniel, 
 ike a piece of glossy brown hearth-rug, was sit- 
 ing beside the major's chair, and gazing up with 
 adoration at one of his hands that hung over 
 le side. The major sprang up sharply, just in 
 ime to see the little animal, that knew his 
 labits very well, crawl under the very low bed. 
 He sprang after it, but it had already disap- 
 peared, and he was quite unable to move the 
 bed which, with its great carved pillars and 
 heavy walnut canopy, weighed nearly half a 
 ton. 
 
 "Great heavens !" the major exclaimed, "we're 
 lost. I'm lost — you're lost. I knew it would 
 come. Why in the world did you leave the 
 door open? If I could have caught the little 
 beast, I might have chucked him outside, and 
 thrown boots and things at him till he went 
 back to his mistress. As it is, there's no hope." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe drew herself up with an 
 expression approaching as near as possible to 
 one of severe virtue. 
 
 "Do you suppose," she said, "that I was 
 going to be alone with a man at night with a 
 door shut?'* 
 
140 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Well, it's usual to shut the door on these 
 occasions," the major said. 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe remarked: "I don't know 
 what sort of women you can be used to." 
 
 But the remark failed considerably of its ef- 
 fect, because the major was upon his stomach 
 trying to get under the bed, which was much 
 too low for him. He leaned upon one elbow 
 and glared fiercely at Mrs. Kerr Howe. Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe laughed. 
 
 "I don't see what it matters," she said. But 
 the major waved at her the arm that he was 
 not leaning on, and said violently: 
 
 "What it matters is that I shall lose Olympia. 
 She'll be here in a minute, I'll bet my head she 
 will. There's a sort of psychic afifinity between 
 her and that Httle beast under the bed. She 
 says she wakes up in the night and feels cold 
 if it isn't lying on her door-mat. I tell you, I 
 shall lose Olympia." 
 
 "Well, I don't care," Mrs. Kerr Howe said. 
 
 "And if you're found here," the major con- 
 tinued, "they'll say you're compromised, and I 
 shall have to marry you." 
 
 "Well, I don't care," Mrs. Kerr Howe re- 
 peated. 
 
 "But I tell you this too, Juliana," the major 
 said seriously, "if you're compromised, my uncle 
 
[RING FOR NANCY 141 
 
 certainly won't let Flossie Delamare produce 
 your old play. That's what it will come to." 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe suddenly started to her feet. 
 
 "Not produce my play!" she exclaimed. 
 "But that's infamous!" 
 
 "That's what will happen," the major re- 
 peated. "You ought to have thought of that 
 before you came. My uncle is absolutely de- 
 voted to Olympia." 
 
 "I've never heard of such a thing," Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe said. "I'm going at once." 
 
 "That's your beastly artistic pride," the major 
 commented; "you'd rather have a play pro- 
 duced than even a husband like me. But you're 
 not going down that staircase when there's a 
 twenty-to-one chance that Olympia is coming 
 up it. Listen! Listen!" He held up one finger. 
 
 There couldn't be any doubt that some one 
 was coming up the stairs, which were of un- 
 carpeted and polished black oak. "Not an- 
 other word," the major whispered. "I'll do my 
 best;" and lying upon his stomach the major 
 began to emit, in a series of melancholy yelps, 
 the name "George"; for in a moment of jocular 
 humor the major had christened his present to 
 Miss Peabody "George Washington." And at 
 the necessary point he called out sharply: 
 "Who's there?" 
 
142 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 An American voice with a highly cultured 
 English accent answered: "It is I, Olympia." 
 
 "Oh, well," the major said, "the father of his 
 country is under my bed, and Tm doing my best 
 to get under my bed, so there, in a manner of 
 speaking, we all are." 
 
 He was aware that Mrs. Kerr Howe, behind 
 the great bed curtains, was pressing as close to 
 the wall as she reasonably could. 
 
 "I woke up," Miss Peabody's voice said. 
 "I was awakened by feeling in my bones that 
 George was not in his basket on the mat out- 
 side my door. I was convinced that he would 
 be here. May I come in?" 
 
 The major was getting up on to his knees. 
 "That you certainly may not!" 
 
 "But why not?" the voice came from the 
 door. "I can see through the crack that you 
 are fully dressed. I'm coming in." 
 
 The major stormed as fast as he could 
 toward the door, but Miss Peabody was al- 
 ready in front of the fireplace. 
 
 "What a fine room you've got," she said; 
 "it's so ancestral, so distinguished. Don't you 
 think we could induce Lady Savylle to sell it to 
 us for our home?" 
 
 The major said — and he really was furiously 
 angry: 
 
RING FOR NANCY 143 
 
 "Now this really won't do. You must get 
 out of my room at once. It's unheard of at 
 this time of night. You've never done anything 
 like this before." And he headed her off from 
 going to observe the panel. The room was 
 very dark, since the only light it contained was 
 that of the candle that Miss Delamare had left. 
 
 Olympia said: "It's ridiculous of you, Ted- 
 dy! It's not as if I was some flighty young 
 girl or one of your dissolute companions, that 
 I hope you've given up for good. I suppose 
 I can be trusted." 
 
 "No, you can't," the major said. "No one 
 can be trusted at this time of night, and in this 
 latitude." 
 
 "You don't seem at all glad to see me," Miss 
 Peabody said. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" 
 
 The major said: "Oh, damn!" And then he 
 added: "Look here, Olympia, I'll kiss you with 
 pleasure once you're outside my room. You 
 don't understand. You can't possibly under- 
 stand. This isn't Boston. I can't have things 
 said against my wife. Any one may be coming 
 in." 
 
 "You don't seem quite master of yourself 
 to-night," Olympia said. "I hope you haven't 
 been taking that nasty champagne again. Who 
 would be likely to come in at this hour?" 
 
144 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Anybody might," the major answered. "It's 
 the custom of the comitry. Besides, it's the 
 principle of the thing that I object to. It isn't 
 right. It isn't proper." 
 
 And suddenly his face really paled beneath 
 its tan, and his attitude of appalled listening 
 was so intense that even Miss Olympia was 
 silent. From far away he had heard a voice 
 wailing: 
 
 "Teddy! I say, Teddy! I can't find my 
 room." It was only the trained voice of an 
 actress that could have carried so far, and have 
 made the words so distinct. 
 
 "What's that?" Olympia exclaimed. 
 
 *T don't know," the major said desperately. 
 "It's an echo! It's a ghost. You never know 
 what goes on in these old houses." 
 
 And first he thought of pushing Miss Pea- 
 body out of the room and then he thought of 
 running to the door to keep the other woman 
 out; but if he did that, he was perfectly certain 
 that Olympia would go to examine the panel, 
 and see Mrs. Kerr Howe, who was hiding be- 
 hind the curtain. If it had only been the purple 
 kimono she would have been invisible in the 
 shadows, but the golden embroidered swallows 
 upon the lady's breast he had observed already 
 to gleam like brass plates. And then Miss 
 
RING FOR NANCY 
 
 145 
 
 Delamare, who had evidently been coming very 
 fast, ran into the room and exclaimed breath- 
 lessly: 
 
 *'I say, Teddy, I can't find my room. I've 
 been walking for miles and I can't find it. I 
 shall have to stop here all . . ." 
 
 And she stopped suddenly with the exclama- 
 tion: "Oh, I didn't know you'd got company; 
 I'm sure I beg your pardon." 
 
VII 
 
 T?OR a moment the major was certain that 
 •*• an icy chill passed between the two ladies. 
 He could feel it in his bones. And then he 
 remarked seriously to Olympia: 
 
 "Now you have gone and ruined my repu- 
 tation !" 
 
 Miss Peabody had become the fiery red of 
 pure rage. She remarked simply: 
 
 "Nonsense! You're a man!" 
 
 "But haven't you," the major said, "haven't 
 you rubbed it into me enough that a man has 
 to be just as careful about these things as a 
 woman? Aren't you always saying that a man 
 ought to be as spotless as a nun? Isn't that 
 why you're president of the Boston Society for 
 Reforming Young Men? And now, Olympia, 
 you have ruined my reputation forever." 
 
 But Miss Peabody, who was growing redder 
 and redder, positively hissed between her teeth: 
 "This appears to me to be nonsense!" And 
 she snapped at Miss Delamare the words: 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 Miss Delamare answered in a quite deter- 
 146 
 
RING FOR NANCY 147 
 
 mined tone: ''Well, for the matter of that, 
 what are yoii doing here?" 
 
 There seemed to the major nothing to remain 
 but to treat the whole thing in a spirit of sheer 
 farce. As far as he could see, his hands were 
 perfectly clean, but he simply wouldn't face the 
 least chance of proving it — and for the matter 
 of that, all these women's reputations would be 
 damaged, and there would be a regular beastly 
 scandal, if he didn't do his level best to carry 
 the whole thing off with a hand light enough 
 for the whipping of silHbubs. And he just 
 said: 
 
 ''In the name of heaven, what are we all 
 doing here?" 
 
 And Olympia, dropping for a moment the 
 cold purity of her training, remarked harshly: 
 "Now that's enough of this. I want an ex- 
 planation." 
 
 "That's just," the major said, "that's just 
 exactly what Mrs. Kerr Howe wanted. I'm no 
 good at explanations. You'd better ask Flos- 
 sie." 
 
 Miss Peabody remarked, as was to be ex- 
 pected of her: "Flossie, indeed!" And then 
 she fixed Miss Delamare with a baleful glare. 
 "Well, I'm waiting." 
 
 "So am I," Miss Delamare said. "And if 
 
148 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 you want to know what I'm waiting for, it's 
 this: I've been brought down to this place in 
 the interests of the pure drama. It doesn't 
 seem to me that I ought to be exposed to the 
 chances of finding unmarried American ladies 
 in gentlemen's bedrooms." 
 
 "Edward!" Miss Peabody exclaimed tragic- 
 ally, "are you going to see me exposed to these 
 insults?" 
 
 "But, my poor dear Olympia," the major 
 said, "she is only expressing what I told you I 
 felt myself. Oh, hang it all, I can't explain. 
 Then the only thing left seems to be for Juliana 
 to do it." And he called out: "Hi! Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe, come out from behind that curtain." 
 
 For it had suddenly occurred to him that 
 there were ten chances to one that the lady 
 would be discovered, and there was nothing 
 in the world to prevent her being used, even 
 at that late date, as chaperon. She must, by 
 all reasonable chances, be under his thumb. 
 And when Mrs. Kerr Howe, with a face pale 
 with rage, came around the foot of the bed, 
 he said to Miss Delamare, whom he could 
 trust to leg him up: 
 
 "Oh, I say, put a screen in front of the fire- 
 place. There will be another woman coming 
 down the chimney, and it might not look de- 
 corous." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 149 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe exclaimed sharply: 
 
 "Major Foster, I insist upon an explanation 
 of this insult," almost at the same moment as 
 Miss Peabody asked: 
 
 "Who is this person?" 
 
 The major said, with all the air of a calm 
 introducer: 
 
 "Let me introduce Mrs. Kerr Howe to you. 
 yirs. Kerr Howe, the authoress of the future 
 pure drama — I brought her down by the last 
 train with me." 
 
 "So it appears," Miss Peabody exclaimed; 
 and then she added: "I know all about Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe." 
 
 And at almost the same moment Miss Dela- 
 mare said in a quite audible voice: "Good old 
 Teddy!" 
 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe and Olympia were maintain- 
 ing an ominous silence. And then the major 
 got his idea. He had been thinking of once 
 more claiming Flossie as his half-sister, because 
 his aunt might be trusted to leg him out. Just 
 then what he thought was inspiration came to 
 him, and he exclaimed: 
 
 "That's right — that's how I like to see you — - 
 nice and friendly. We shall all be kissing and 
 making friends in a minute or two." 
 
 "That we certainly shan't," Miss Peabody 
 said. 
 
 h 
 
150 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 He took no notice of her, but drew his breath 
 for a long speech. "Oh, yes, we shall," he be- 
 gan, "as soon as I've given my explanation. 
 I've got it! It's as clear as mud. See here, 
 Juliana — ^you came down with me in the last 
 train, didn't you? And you, Flossie, you were 
 dying to tell me all about your new theater. 
 And so you, Juliana, very kindly offered to 
 chaperon Flossie, and to help explain about 
 the new pure theater. So there we were, all 
 three comfortably sitting over the fire, when 
 Flossie remembered that she'd forgotten to 
 bring the plans of the new theater, so, of course, 
 Flossie went to get the plans, so Juliana was 
 left alone with me. I don't see anything wrong 
 about that. Olympia, do you?" 
 
 "But why," Miss Peabody asked suspiciously, 
 "did Miss Delamare leave her shoes?" 
 
 It was then that the major made what was 
 very nearly a fatal mistake. For, as it oc- 
 curred to him afterward, nothing would have 
 been easier than to say that Flossie just didn't 
 want to make a noise; instead of which he said: 
 "Oh, the shoes! Well, you see, they were a 
 little present I was going to bring you from 
 Paris. And Flossie was wearing them so as 
 to air them, and to prevent my having to pay 
 customs duty. So, of course, when Flossie went 
 
RING FOR NANCY 151 
 
 away she left the shoes on my grate. Because, 
 you know, theyVe really your shoes. She 
 couldn't take them. And really, it's you who 
 ought to explain how your shoes come to be 
 found by my grate." 
 
 Olympia again became very red. 
 
 "I don't understand what all this rigmarole 
 is about," she said. 
 
 *'Oh, go away and think it over," the major 
 exclaimed quite cheerfully. "It explains every- 
 thing." 
 
 "But it doesn't," Olympia exclaimed. "If 
 the shoes are already in this country, why 
 should you have to pay customs duty on them?" 
 
 "Oh," the major answered, "I was going to 
 give them to you in Paris : it would have been 
 French customs duty." 
 
 "But I'm not going to Paris," Miss Peabody 
 said. 
 
 "Well, you see," the major answered, "I'm a 
 man who likes to be prepared for everything. 
 I thought that one day you might be going to 
 Paris, and so it would be nice to have them 
 already to give you. You ought to regard it as 
 a touching attention on my part, instead of 
 kicking up such a terrible row. And all about 
 a pair of shoes. Oh, Olympia, I'm ashamed of 
 you!" 
 
152 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Miss Peabody exclaimed ominously: "Major 
 Brent Foster . . ." 
 
 And the major, though he didn't at the mo- 
 ment know why, felt a sudden gush of joy; 
 nevertheless he said: "Major Brent Foster! 
 Why don't you call me Edward — or even 
 Teddy?" 
 
 "Because," Olympia exclaimed, "I believe 
 that all is over between us." 
 
 Miss Delamare exclaimed just under her 
 breath: "Poor fellow!" 
 
 For a moment the major felt a strong in- 
 clination to leave it at that. And he would 
 have left it if there hadn't come into his rather 
 chivalrous soul the disagreeable idea of all these 
 women's reputations. There would be Miss Pea- 
 body going envenomedly about the world mis- 
 calling, in a quite skilful manner, not only Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe, but Flossie, who certainly hadn't 
 deserved it. And there would certainly be Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe going about casting doubts on the 
 virtue of poor Olympia, who equally didn't de- 
 serve it. So he exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, do let us have a little common sense! 
 Haven't I explained everything?" 
 
 "No, you explained nothing at all," Miss 
 Peabody said. "In the first place, Miss Dela- 
 mare was just as much astonished as I was to 
 see Mrs. Kerr Howe here at all." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 153 
 
 "Of course, she would be," the major said. 
 *'She had been gone from the room a long time. 
 She naturally expected to find that Juliana 
 would be gone when she came back. It 
 wouldn't have been proper for Juliana to be 
 here alone without Flossie on hand to chaperon 
 her." 
 
 "But why," Olympia asked, "did Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe hide behind the bed curtain if she hadn't 
 a guilty conscience?" 
 
 "Why, that," the major said, "that's because 
 she has such a kind heart. Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 has the kindest heart of any woman that I 
 know. She hid behind the curtain in order to 
 spare your blushes, Olympia. She thought you 
 would have been embarrassed if you knew you 
 were discovered coming to my room like this. 
 Because, of course, it makes it so much worse 
 your being engaged to me. So she hid behind 
 the curtain so that you shouldn't know she 
 knew. That explains that." 
 
 He didn't in the least know how it happened, 
 but suddenly he was aware of the voice of her 
 ladyship's own maid, and that the white cap 
 and strings and the white apron of Miss Jenkins 
 were in the room. She was standing at the 
 foot of the bed with her hands clasped before 
 her, and her' mysterious confidentially confident 
 air of the really good servant who, being above 
 
154 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 all the vicissitudes and tragedies of this earth, 
 can put everything right by a suggestion or tv^o. 
 And she was remarking in the most perfectly 
 level tones: 
 
 "Wouldn't it be much better, sir, just to tell 
 the truth? I'm sure there's nothing in the least 
 wrong about the truth, sir." 
 
 The major suddenly fell down again into his 
 armchair. 
 
 "My God, Flossie!" he exclaimed; "you can 
 take the screen away from the front of the fire 
 again. She's come by the secret door instead 
 of the chimney!" 
 
 The high voice of Miss Peabody sounded in 
 the room. 
 
 "Perhaps you will kindly explain your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 Miss Jenkins stood with her hands still down 
 as if she were smoothing out her apron. 
 
 "Well, miss," she said, "I am in charge of 
 this house in the interests of her ladyship, 
 Mary, Countess Savylle." 
 
 "But that doesn't explain why you're here," 
 Miss Peabody repeated. 
 
 "Well, miss, you see, miss," Miss Jenkins 
 continued calmly, "I heard a great noise of 
 quarreling, if you'll excuse me, miss, and so I 
 came to see if you mightn't be breaking the 
 furniture over one another, if you'll excuse my 
 
RING FOR NANCY 155 
 
 being so free, miss, since it's my duty to look 
 after the furniture. There are some very valu- 
 able things here in this room. Now this panel, 
 for instance, I'm sure her ladyship would he 
 heart-broken if anything happened to this panel. 
 For the painting, it's by Van Dyke, and if one 
 of you was to throw the other against it, it 
 might be very bad for its works. It works like 
 this, miss, don't you see, miss.'^" And Miss 
 Jenkins moved calmly toward the frame of the 
 panel. The knob moved so easily that she ap- 
 peared, in the gloom, merely to wave her hand 
 and the panel no more to exist. Instead there 
 was the brilliant light of Miss Delamare's room 
 shining in upon them all. 
 
 The major exclaimed: "Well, now, that ex- 
 plains everything/' 
 
 But Miss Peabody merely answered: 
 
 *T am not a bit satisfied and nothing is ex- 
 plained." 
 
 "But don't you see," the major asked, "that's 
 Flossie's room — that's how she came to be 
 here." 
 
 Miss Peabody said icily: "I quite under- 
 stand that. Major Foster. It only makes it all 
 the worse.'* 
 
 Once more Miss Jenkins interposed: "If I 
 might make so bold, miss, as to ask you to 
 listen to me, miss." 
 
156 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "That you certainly may not," Miss Peabody 
 said. "Fm not used to being talked to by 
 servants." 
 
 "Of course, that's your American way, miss," 
 Miss Jenkins said, with a calmness of extreme 
 insolence, "you are so democratic. But this is 
 England, miss, and you see Fm a sort of foster- 
 sister to the countess. And she treating me 
 just as if I were her equal, it makes me a little 
 free in my speech with such old friends of the 
 countess as Major Foster is. So I hope you'll 
 pardon me, miss, if I ask you to think the best 
 you can of Major Foster, for I'll give you my 
 word of honor, if you'll take a servant's word, 
 being so American-like, and remembering that 
 you're in England, that the major is perfectly 
 innocent, thought apt to be a little frivolous in 
 such things as explanations, miss." 
 
 There seemed to have arisen between these 
 two women, from the very sight of each other, 
 one of those bitter hatreds of which only women 
 are capable. And it was with a rudeness really 
 extraordinary that Miss Peabody answered: 
 
 "No, I'll certainly not take your word. No 
 servant ever spoke the truth." 
 
 "That's because you're used to American 
 servants, miss, if I may make so bold," Miss 
 Jenkins answered. "We only export inferior 
 
RING FOR NANCY 157 
 
 ones to the United States. Her ladyship and 
 such-like keep the best at home." 
 
 "It's no good talking." Miss Peabody at- 
 temped to close the discussion. "I'm not the 
 one to act precipitately. But I shall certainly 
 act." 
 
 "That was what I wanted to suggest, your 
 Ladyship — I beg pardon — miss," Miss Jenkins 
 said; "but being so much with her ladyship it 
 seems to come natural-like. What I wanted to 
 suggest was that you shouldn't come to any 
 determination for a day or two, and then you 
 can keep an eye upon the major and these 
 ladies, and see how they behave." 
 
 At this point Miss Delamare exclaimed again : 
 "Poor old Teddy!" 
 
 "That's precisely what I intend to do," Miss 
 Peabody said. "But don't you imagine that it 
 is at your suggestion. I shall keep an eye on 
 these people. And if I observe anything in the 
 least suspicious, I shall break off my engage- 
 ment with Major Foster at once " 
 
 "What!" the major exclaimed. "Isn't it 
 broken off already?" 
 
 "I shall break off my engagement at once," 
 Miss Peabody continued, "and then I shall go 
 to Mr. Foster and tell him why; and that will 
 be an end of your theater. Miss Delamare, and 
 
158 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 your play, Mrs. Kerr Howe, and Major Foster 
 will be cut out of his uncle's will." 
 
 "And very proper too, miss," Miss Jenkins 
 said. 
 
 "I didn't ask you to make a remark," Miss 
 Peabody exclaimed; and then she said clearly 
 and distinctly: "Edward, you may kiss me — to 
 show these ladies " 
 
 The major started violently. "Oh!" he said, 
 and he pointed to the door behind Miss Pea- 
 body's back. "Oh! the dog! George Washing- 
 ton's just run out of the door." 
 
 Miss Peabody wavered for a moment, and 
 then she turned toward the door. She dis- 
 appeared, and they could hear her calling in 
 the corridor: "Georgie! Georgie!" 
 
 The major pulled out his handkerchief and 
 wiped his forehead. 
 
 "Thank heaven, that taught me that lie," 
 he said. 
 
 ''Didn't the dog go out of the door?" Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe asked. 
 
 "Not a bit," the major answered cheerfully. 
 "The little beast is under my bed. But if that 
 lie hadn't come into my head I should have had 
 to kiss Olympia — and think how painful that 
 would have been for all of you!" 
 
 At that point Miss Jenkins remarked in Her 
 cool and businesslike tones: 
 
RING FOR NANCY 159 
 
 "I think, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 and Miss Delamare, you had better just go 
 through that panel into Miss Delamare's room, 
 and then I'll close it. If the dog is still here, 
 it's likely Miss Olympia will be coming back, 
 and you'd better not be seen here again." 
 
 '*0h, yes," the major exclaimed energetically. 
 "Good gracious! Go! Go!" And he positively 
 pushed them through the opening. Miss Dela- 
 mare smiled at him maliciously over her shoul- 
 der. 
 
 "Aren't you going to kiss us good night, 
 Teddy?" she asked. 
 
 But Miss Jenkins fatefully extended her hand 
 to the frame and the portraits of her lady- 
 ship's ancestors marched right across Miss 
 Delamare's face. 
 
VIII 
 
 QHE stood looking at him, vaguely lighted 
 ^ from beside the panel, and for the last time, 
 he sank down into his chair. 
 
 *'My girl,'' he said, "you've saved my bacon." 
 
 She answered, with her calm and superior 
 intonation: "I would not be so certain of that, 
 sir." 
 
 "Oh, 111 be as careful as the grave," he said 
 confidently. "A night like this would have been 
 enough to make Solomon himself a reformed 
 character." 
 
 In some way he read on her expressionless 
 face an expression of dubiety. 
 
 "I don't know, sir," she said. "Of course, 
 you may have done the right thing, treating 
 the whole thing as a farce. I recognized what 
 you were doing, sir, but a time seemed to come 
 when it appeared better to tell the truth. That 
 was why I came in. I hope you will excuse 
 it, sir." 
 
 He gave her a keen glance. 
 
 "Fow were listening all the time," he said. 
 
 "I certainly was, sir," she answered coolly. 
 160 
 
RING FOR NANCY 161 
 
 "It seemed to be my duty, sir. I'm not in 
 the least ashamed, sir." 
 
 The major said: "It's the sort of thing that 
 most servants would be ashamed of being 
 caught at." 
 
 "But you see, sir," she answered, " I wasn't 
 caught. I just stepped in when it appeared to 
 be useful. I knew something of the sort would 
 happen. Something of the sort always does 
 happen. And I wanted to be able to report to 
 her ladyship . . ." 
 
 The major ejaculated: "By God! you're go- 
 ing to report the whole thing to Mary Savylle?" 
 
 "Every word, sir," Miss Jenkins answered 
 calmly. "That is my duty." 
 
 Again the major said: "Great heavens!" 
 
 "I don't see," Miss Jenkins said argumenta- 
 tively, and with her eyes on the ground, "if you 
 come to think of it, that you have done any- 
 thing that would displease her ladyship. 
 You've tried to be faithful to Miss Olympia as 
 was your duty, though a difficult one. And 
 you've said nothing about her ladyship that 
 would not have made her a pleased and proud 
 woman if she heard it. And you behaved very 
 — very straightforwardly with the other ladies." 
 Miss Jenkins' voice became rather low, and as 
 if she were whispering reflectively, she said: 
 
162 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "No, I can not see that anything will displease 
 her ladyship.'* 
 
 The major brightened suddenly. "Why, I 
 believe you're right," he said. "I have been 
 behaving rather creditably. Who would have 
 thought that?" He remained thinking, and she 
 remained looking down at him. And suddenly 
 he began to feel emotions, quivers and thrills 
 of emotions. He leaned forward in his chair 
 and said: "I say, what's your name?" 
 
 She answered dutifully: "Yes, sir?" 
 
 And he exclaimed: "Won't you let me kiss 
 you?" 
 
 It appeared to him at the moment the most 
 desirable, the most important thing in the 
 world. She did not appear to be a servant; 
 she did not appear even to be a woman — but 
 she seemed to be a warmth, a force, a light, a 
 magnet that was drawing him toward her. 
 And it was like being awakened very early and 
 roughly when with a dry voice she said: 
 
 "Certainly not, sir." 
 
 He said dully: "No, I suppose not. But it's 
 as true as death that I'm desperately in love 
 with you." 
 
 "I dare say, sir," she answered in a matter-of- 
 fact tone. "But there's Miss Olympia." 
 
 He passed his hand down his forehead. He 
 was vastly disturbed. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 163 
 
 ''Of course, there^s poor Olympia," he said. 
 
 "You wouldn't throw Miss Olympia over?" 
 ]\Iiss Jenkins asked. "Not even for her lady- 
 ship?" 
 
 "No," he answered. "No, I certainly couldn't. 
 When, just now, she talked as if she were going 
 to have done with me — why, my heart jumped 
 in my side . . ." 
 
 "So that if Miss Peabody could be got to 
 throw you . . ." 
 
 The major, who had been inspecting his 
 boots, looked up at her. 
 
 "Now," he said, "we can't decently talk that 
 over. It isn't proper. I don't want to seem to 
 reprove you, but the lady is my affianced wife, 
 and she has done nothing at all to deserve being 
 talked over." 
 
 "Not even just now?" the girl asked, with a 
 touch of hardness. "When she was so out- 
 rageously rude . . ." 
 
 The major shook his head. 
 
 "No," he answered decisively. "It was per- 
 fectly natural. It was perfectly legitimate. 
 Circumstances looked very suspicious; there's 
 no denying it. She could not be asked to be- 
 have as if she were at a tea-party. She's a good 
 lady; she has been as kind to me as she knows 
 how. I can't have her talked over if you at- 
 tracted me a million times as much." 
 
164 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "I'm talking for her ladyship," the girl said. 
 "I'm pleading for her ladyship, if you like. 
 I'm not ashamed. You had a moral duty to her, 
 ladyship. When you went away you nevert 
 swore to be faithful to her. But wasn't it im- 
 plied? Wasn't it implied enough to keep her' 
 faithful to you for years and years? Wasn't 
 it? Wasn't it?" 
 
 The major hung his head down. j 
 
 "That sort of thing is rather all nonsense," he I 
 said. "It isn't three hundred years ago." 
 
 "Oh, yes, it is," she answered; "in that it's 
 three hundred years. Nothing has changed' 
 since Jacob served for Rachel. You gave hen: 
 ladyship certain rights. You gave her the; 
 right to expect that you would ask her again. 
 You never did. Then what's to prevent her; 
 ladyship saying things against Miss Peabody?: 
 What's to prevent it? There are things to say 
 against her. She's taken away another wom-i 
 an's man." 
 
 "She didn't know it," the major said list-i 
 lessly. 
 
 "Didn't know it!" the girl said with a fierce 
 contempt. "Of course, she knows it. Of 
 course, she knows that she is a criminal." 
 
 "Now drop that," the major said harshly. 
 
 "A criminal," the girl continued. "Isn't it 
 
RING FOR NANCY 165 
 
 criminal for a woman of her type to take a man 
 of yours? Doesn't she know that if she were 
 worthy of the name of a woman she ought to 
 put you back again? In her heart she knows 
 it. In her heart she felt bad. "When she was 
 talking to me or to little Miss Delamare she 
 was odious and rude and hateful. Why? Be- 
 cause she felt wicked, evil, criminal. . . . She 
 saw you standing beside me or her — and she 
 knew that it was one Hke us that ought to be 
 your proper mate . . ." 
 
 "Now drop that," the major exclaimed harsh- 
 ly. "Do you understand? That is not talk for 
 the servants' hall. IVe got to behave honor- 
 ably." 
 
 "What do you know of the servants' hall?" 
 she said bitterly. "What do you know of 
 honor, for the matter of that?" 
 
 "I've got my rules," the major said. "Now 
 you go!" 
 
 "Rules!" she repeated harshly. "Yes, rules 
 that will let a woman sicken and pine and long 
 and linger as — as her ladyship has done. And 
 wake up in the night, and in the morning there 
 would be her pillow wet for the servants to find 
 and know the shameful truth that she was cry- 
 ing for a man that cared more for his rules than 
 all her tears! That's the thing that shames a 
 
166 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 woman! And you never came, and you never 
 w^rote, and you never thought . . ." 
 
 "Damnation!" the major really screamed. 
 "Was it me that should go running to a woman 
 I couldn't support? Was it me that should go 
 running to a woman with castles and jewels 
 and titles to her name?" 
 
 "Yes, damn your Irish honor!" she cried out; 
 "and damn your black, novel-reading, Papist 
 pride! It was your duty to come crawling to 
 the woman you adored; it was your duty to 
 give her the pride and joy of tending you, and 
 you, you give it to another woman! You give 
 it to the wicked stranger and she gets all the 
 pride and joy of tending you who have tried 
 like a hero, and ruined your poor eyes like a 
 scholar and ruined your life and the life of the 
 woman you adored, God help you both, like the 
 black evil fool that you are." 
 
 The major looked at her, leaning forward in 
 wide-eyed astonishment. 
 
 "Now by the seven wonders of the world. 
 . . ." he shouted at last. And then he fell back 
 against the cushions of his chair and began to 
 laugh feebly like a child. "And isn't this the 
 grand comedy!" he said while his sides still 
 shook. "Here's you and here's me, and the two 
 of us working ourselves into epileptical pas- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 167 
 
 sions, when in the hearts of us we're both of us 
 agreeing the one with the other, and for all I 
 know admiring the other more than is good for 
 
 us — at least it's true of me — and — and '* 
 
 He stood up suddenly and stretched out his 
 hand. "And it's taking my hand you will be 
 doing!" he exclaimed; "for I'm no more than a 
 poor Irish fool, that will be always in the wars 
 life the father before me, and his fathers forever 
 and ever! And where it will all end, God in 
 His mercy knows! But I'm sick enough and 
 sore enough to make it good and soothing to 
 me to touch the hand of a good woman that's 
 your own self!" 
 
 She put her own hand swiftly behind her 
 back. 
 
 "You're agreeing with me," she said, "but not 
 I with you. I don't agree that honor demanded 
 what you've done, which is what you have been 
 trying to trepan me into saying. I don't agree, 
 and I will never take you by the hand, Major 
 Brent Foster, and you have no right to ask it of 
 a poor servant — until your hand is laid in her 
 ladyship's in the pledge of marriage. And 
 that I will work for, and that, by the grace of 
 God, I will bring about." 
 
 The major, whose moods altered like the sky 
 in April, looked at her with laughing eyes. 
 
168 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 *'Well, the blessing of God go with you," he 
 said. "But keep this in your obstinate, pretty, 
 lovely head, that never will I ask her ladyship 
 that question until Miss Olympia gives me up 
 as freely and as frankly as you refused me the 
 kiss I asked of you." 
 
 "She shall do it with ten times the loathing 
 that I did," Miss Jenkins exclaimed, "if I have 
 to burn down this old place to bring it about." 
 
 The major suddenly stretched himself. 
 
 "It's time we were remembering our places," 
 he said. "My girl, this is more like the bogs of 
 Galway than the eastern end of God-fearing 
 Hampshire. WeVe forgotten ourselves, and 
 that is the truth of it." 
 
 Miss Jenkins drew herself up and smoothed 
 her apron. 
 
 "You wanted some hot water, sir," she said. 
 "I'll put it outside your door and knock, for you 
 will be wanting to get to bed." 
 
 "Oh, don't spoil me," the major said. 
 
 "It is what her ladyship would wish, sir," she 
 answered. 
 
 When she was gone the major took off his 
 coat and then loosened his collar. He pulled 
 down the brass blower before the great fire- 
 place, for the fire was out, and a weary noise 
 of wind came from the great chimney. "So 
 
RING FOR NANCY 169 
 
 that there . . ." he was beginning to say. And 
 then he threw up his hands, and an expression 
 of awe-struck panic came into his face. "By 
 heaven!" he called out. *'With all this talk of 
 honors and morals, four women have asked me 
 to kiss them this night, and not once have I 
 brought it off." 
 
PART II 
 
THE next two days were uncomfortable, 
 but not so extraordinarily uncomfortable 
 as they might have been. Indeed, as far as 
 the major was concerned, it might have been 
 better to call them merely odd. He himself 
 had not any activities. He sat about on knolls 
 in the grounds, and tried to make head or tail 
 of a story called The Great Good Place; but 
 he just simply could not make anything, and 
 his eyes were rather bad. It took the form of 
 a dimness that would last two or three days, 
 and then give place to two or three days in 
 which his vision would be rather clearer than 
 usual. So he really had not anything to do, for 
 the doctors had told him that he was not even 
 to ride much, and riding was the only thing that 
 could have taken him out of the grounds; for, 
 as for fishing, he could not really see well 
 enough to tie a fly. 
 
 Miss Flossie Delamare spent the whole of 
 her days with Mrs. Foster in a small room giv- 
 ing off the drawing-room. She listened to in- 
 terminable tales of the irregular actions of the 
 
 173 
 
174 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 dashing Admiral Brent; she did her best to 
 learn Berhn wool-work, for which she developed 
 no particular talent, and she spent many hours 
 a day with old Mrs. Foster at the piano in the 
 great drawing-room, where the armor stood. 
 
 Mrs. Foster was doing her best to help Miss 
 Delamare to learn her two songs for the musical 
 comedy called Pigs is Pigs. This successful 
 piece having run for two years and seven nights, 
 Miss Delamare had insisted on a fortnight's 
 holiday, during which her place was taken by 
 her friend. Miss Lottie Charles. Miss Delamare 
 said that that old play was driving her regular 
 dotty, and she had insisted on being provided 
 with three new dances and two new songs if 
 she was to go on with the part. But by the 
 time she had reached Basildon Manor she rather 
 wished she had not. Because learning was 
 extraordinarily diflfiicult to her. She never could 
 get words into her head, and she had only five 
 notes in her voice. 
 
 The song called Chipper-chipper Chip-chip did 
 not present so many difficulties as far as Miss 
 Delamare was concerned, but it proved ex- 
 tremely difficult for Mrs. Foster to accompany. 
 The main body of the song had to be per- 
 formed by the hero of the musical comedy. 
 This had not been the intention of the three 
 
RING FOR NANCY 175 
 
 authors of the words and the two composers 
 of the music; but this Miss Delamare had in- 
 sisted should be so. 
 
 According to the original intention of the 
 composers and the authors, Miss Delamare was 
 to have sung the whole composition, which was 
 a touching story of the love-affairs of a tomtit 
 and a dormouse. But Miss Delamare had abso- 
 lutely refused to take so much trouble, so the 
 words had been handed over to the hero, though 
 Miss Delamare had consented to sing the chorus 
 if it was very much simplified. The hero, Mr. 
 Roy Regulin, had absolutely refused to sing 
 anything about a dormouse, or anything about 
 a tomtit. He wanted to sing about his adven- 
 tures in walking after a young lady with a band- 
 box in the city of Paris. He was firm, and Miss 
 Delamare was firm; so that in the end the three 
 worried authors and the two distracted com- 
 posers left it at that, and a very good song it 
 turned out to be. For the hero related how he 
 met the young lady with the bandbox on the 
 boulevards and how he turned and followed her. 
 And then Miss Delamare sang: 
 
 "But she only said ... 
 *Chipper-chipper Chip-chip.' " 
 
 And at the end of every six lines of this song, 
 
176 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Miss Delamare, who carried a bandbox, sang 
 her artless refrain. 
 
 The only difficulty was that old Mrs. Foster, 
 whose knuckles were very gouty, and who had 
 never in her youth got beyond playing Rock 
 Me to Sleep, Mother, and Woodman, Spare 
 that Tree — Mrs. Foster found it extremely dif- 
 ficult to accompany the young lady, to whom 
 she was much attached. Miss Delamare, on 
 the other hand, said she would be absolutely 
 unable to practise the song unless Mrs. Foster 
 could at least pick out the melody with one 
 finger upon the grand piano. They might, in- 
 deed, have had the major in, for he had some 
 working acquaintance with the instrument, and 
 in the evenings, when they were all prop- 
 erly clothed, he managed to rattle out the 
 tune very spiritedly. But Miss Delamare said 
 that she could not possibly dance the steps in 
 the extraordinary tight skirts that were all 
 she had with her. So that it was not, Mrs. 
 Foster said, to be thought of that he could 
 assist at the rehearsals, for Flossie had not 
 got so much as one petticoat in all her eleven 
 boxes. Thus, Mrs. Foster, having had all the 
 Indian rugs taken out of the great drawing- 
 room, and having all the doors locked from 
 half past eleven till one, did her laborious best. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 177 
 
 This had two great advantages. It enor- 
 mously pleased Mrs. Arthur Foster, who was 
 never tired of seeing Flossie kick the tortoise- 
 shell comb out of the back of her own head; 
 whereupon her cunningly arranged hair would 
 fall all over her like a waterfall. And, on 
 the other hand, it simpHfied the task of Miss 
 Peabody. 
 
 Miss Peabody, as the major had to observe, 
 was simply wonderful. She had the job of 
 keeping four women away from two men, and 
 of keeping in touch with the two men herself 
 all the time. The geographical position of the 
 house did, of course, aid her. Very long and 
 very low, she occupied Mr. Foster's study in 
 the middle, as a sort of strategic position. The 
 house stood on a knoll, with the park drop- 
 ping away from the front and the kitchen 
 garden behind. And the kitchen garden was 
 so really a place of vegetables that no young 
 couple could possibly have the excuse of wan- 
 dering into it to admire its beauties, since its 
 beauties consisted mainly of cabbages, and it 
 was too early in the year for the wall fruit 
 to have fallen. Thus there only remained the 
 park. 
 B, Miss Peabody would arrange the major, with 
 ^K rug tucked round his knees, under a large 
 
 I 
 
178 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 oak. She would let him have the book called 
 The Sacred Fount to read, and several lumps 
 of sugar v^ith which to feed the deer if they 
 came his way. 
 
 And, planted in the window of Mr. Arthur 
 Foster's study, she could see him perfectly 
 well, and if she caught him as much as stand- 
 ing up, she would be out at the hall door with 
 her smelling-salts ready to offer him before 
 he had walked as much as five steps. In the 
 meanwhile, she knew that Miss Delamare was 
 conveniently shut up with Mrs. Foster, and 
 she could generally perceive Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 ranging the distances of the park with a book 
 in her hand, or leaning her proofs up against 
 the trunk of a distant tree — which Miss Pea- 
 body observed she generally did when she was 
 in the view of the major — correcting them in 
 a style and fashion very proper for a profes- 
 sional lady writer. 
 
 And, on the other hand. Miss Peabody had 
 her thumb well down upon Mr. Arthur Foster. 
 The poor old gentleman simply could not move. 
 She had concocted an enormous plan for amal- 
 gamating the L.S.S.V. and the B.A.A.S. (Lon- 
 don Society for the Suppression of Vice, and 
 the Boston Association for the Abolition of 
 Sin). She had persuaded the old gentleman 
 
 i; 
 
RING FOR nancy; 179 
 
 that, by amalgamating these two societies, of 
 the one of which he was founder and the 
 other of which she was the perpetual grand 
 mistress, he would be absolutely certain of a 
 knighthood, if not even of a baronetcy, which 
 would probably descend to the major. And she 
 kept the poor old gentleman stuck there over 
 her papers so that neither Miss Delamare with 
 her plans for the new theater, nor Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe with her arguments in favor of her new 
 play, ever got a chance of speaking to him. 
 Moreover, a quite definite coldness had sprung 
 up between her and Mrs. Arthur Foster, who 
 was understood to back up Miss Delamare 
 and the theater. It had happened in this way. 
 On the first morning of their all breakfasting 
 together, Mr. Arthur Foster had come down 
 first and had opened a letter that had con- 
 tained a report from the secretary of the 
 L.S.S.V. It had filled him with real enthu- 
 siasm. He had not been able to refrain from 
 saying briskly to her ladyship's own maid, 
 who was waiting at the sideboard because 
 Saunders, the butler, had apparently turned his 
 ankle, slipping on a rug on the polished oak 
 floor of the corridor, to which he was unac- 
 customed because he had spent the last twenty 
 years of his service at The Pines, Hornsey,^ 
 
180 RING FOR NANCY, 
 
 where the passages were covered with linoleum 
 — Mr. Arthur Foster could not refrain from 
 reading his letter aloud to Miss Jenkins, who 
 stood with her hands folded before her in 
 front of the largest ham she had ever seen. 
 
 "Now, this is famous!" Mr. Foster had said; 
 "it is really excellent! Listen to this, Nancy, 
 my dear — just listen to this." 
 
 Miss Jenkins stood absolutely motionless; 
 the water in the silver kettle hissed pleasantly; 
 the kidneys over their spirit-lamp bubbled and 
 shook the silver lid that covered them. 
 
 "This is from Colonel Hangbird," Mr. Foster 
 said, "the secretary of the L.S.S.V. that my 
 wife is president of. Colonel Hangbird says 
 that he is happy to be able to announce that, 
 during the year while my wife has been 
 president of the society, and lastly, owing to 
 your — I mean my — generous contributions to 
 its funds, vice of all kinds in the kingdom has 
 diminished by one per cent. What do you 
 think of that. Miss Nancy?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins regarded the Turkey carpet. 
 
 "You ought to be made a baronet, sir, or a 
 knight at least," she said. And then she asked 
 disconcertingly: "Now how long would it 
 take at that rate for vice to be rooted out of 
 the country altogether?" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 181 
 
 Mrs. Foster was just coming in at the door, 
 so Mr. Foster said, '*Ssh! Ssh!" and then he ad- 
 dressed his wife with the words: "My dear, 
 here's splendid, here's glorious news! Read this 
 letter. Nancy says — I mean it's generally con- 
 sidered — that I ought to be a baronet, or at 
 least a knight." 
 
 Mrs. Foster took the letter without much en- 
 thusiasm. She read rather slowly, and then 
 began upon the breakfast with which Miss Jen- 
 kins served them; but she did bring out at 
 last: 
 
 "Yes, my dear, I have no doubt it is perfectly 
 splendid, but I don't see anything about a 
 knighthood." 
 
 "Oh, that," Mr. Foster said, "that's just the 
 general opinion. Colonel Hangbird's report will 
 be in all the papers. Just think, I shall be a 
 knight, and people will have to call you *my 
 lady.' " 
 
 "I don't know that I shall like that," Mrs. 
 Foster replied speculatively. "It will seem 
 rather odd. But how long will it take to get 
 rid of vice altogether at that rate? Not so 
 very long, I should think." 
 
 Mr. Foster happened to be coughing over his 
 cup of coffee, and Miss Jenkins remarked with 
 extreme deference: 
 
182 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "It will take just a thousand years, ma'am." 
 
 But Mrs. Foster was thinking of something 
 else, and she turned eagerly upon her lady- 
 ship's own maid. 
 
 "Have you any news of her ladyship?" she 
 asked. "Do, if you write to her, repeat and 
 repeat it again, that Mr. Foster and I would 
 be delighted if she will consider this house her 
 home instead of going to the Dower House 
 at all.'' 
 
 Mr. Foster immediately became exceedingly 
 animated. 
 
 "Certainly, certainly!" he exclaimed; "by all 
 means tell her ladyship that." And then he 
 got up to run toward Miss Peabody, who was 
 entering the room, and he continued his ex- 
 clamation: "How odd it would be if Mrs. Fos- 
 ter were *her ladyship' and Lady Savylle were 
 'her ladyship.' . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Foster said rather frostily: "I don't 
 think we should mention our titles in conversa- 
 tion," and she appealed to Miss Jenkins for 
 corroboration. 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: "It isn't usual, ma'am." 
 
 Mr. Foster appealed to her rather wistfully. 
 "Still, every now and then . . ." he said. 
 
 Miss Jenkins continued to gaze remorselessly 
 at the carpet. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 183 
 
 *'Hardly even every now and then, sir," she 
 remarked. 
 
 And then Mr. Foster spoke to Miss Peabody. 
 
 "I don't see," he exclaimed, "that it is any 
 use having a title if it is never to be used to 
 you." 
 
 Miss Jenkins remarked: "Of course, it's a 
 matter of taste, sir." 
 
 But Miss Peabody, who was rather flushed, 
 pushed in between her host and her ladyship's 
 own maid, and it was only then, after having 
 exhausted this engrossing topic, that Mr. Foster 
 remembered his duty to his guest. His ac- 
 quaintance with polite conversation came most- 
 ly from novels, of which he had read several 
 between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three, 
 and his speeches when addressing a lady were, 
 apt at times to startle his hearers. Thus he 
 remarked now: 
 
 "Down before all the others and with the 
 flush of youth and beauty on your cheek! How 
 I envy my nephew, lucky dog!" 
 
 Mrs. Foster, who was gazing quite angrily at 
 the toast-rack, remarked: "I don't believe 
 you're going to get a title, and I don't in the 
 least want one for my own part." 
 
 Miss Peabody said rather fiercely: "I don't 
 see why Mr. Foster should not have a title. 
 
184 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Hasn't he deserved it? Aren't his successes 
 and his pubHc services perfectly splendid?'* 
 
 And it was at that moment that there v^as 
 born in Miss Olympia's mind the idea that Mr. 
 Arthur Foster must certainly be made into a 
 baronet, with a special remainder to his nephew 
 whom she was going to marry. But Mr. Foster 
 was pushing into her hand the letter from 
 Colonel Hangbird. He said: "Now just read 
 that. Isn't that splendid?" 
 
 As a matter of fact, Olympia commented be- 
 fore reading the letter: "I was going to apol- 
 ogize for being so late. I had rather a bad 
 night." 
 
 Miss Jenkins came suddenly forward and 
 asked Miss Peabody if her coffee was to her 
 taste. Miss Peabody paid no attention what- 
 ever. She finished reading the letter. 
 
 "Of course," she said, without any signs of 
 appearing impressed, "of course, it's satisfac- 
 tory; but it doesn't seem so much to me. You 
 see, we're used to so much larger figures in 
 my country. The last report of my Secondary 
 Society — the Boston League for the Reform of 
 Young Men — the B.L.R.Y.M. as we call it — 
 the last report showed that our roll of members 
 numbers six hundred and forty thousand — an 
 increase of forty thousand in the year." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 185 
 
 "Oh, of course," Mr. Foster said, with an 
 i elaborate politeness in his air, "the B.L.R.Y.M. 
 is a very different thing." 
 
 "And consider what it means," Olympia con- 
 tinued, with that hard enthusiasm which comes 
 over even the mildest of Americans when they 
 talk of the institutions of their own country, 
 "consider what it means. Here are six hundred 
 and forty thousand young men all between the 
 ages of eighteen and twenty-five, and all re- 
 formed characters." 
 
 Mr. Foster interrupted with a rather enthusi- 
 astic "Splendid! Splendid! But even our hum- 
 ble L.S.S.V., which we hope soon to be .able 
 to call the R.L.S.S.V. . . ." 
 
 But the voice of Miss Peabody, which had 
 continued and which was growing louder and 
 louder, took up her tale: 
 
 "And every one of those six hundred and 
 forty thousand young men is pledged to ab- 
 stain from drinking alcohol, playing cards, or 
 any form of gambling, swearing or using loose 
 expressions, attending race meetings" — and 
 Miss Peabody's voice swelled until it became 
 a formidable organ — "frequenting theaters or 
 music-halls, or the society of young women 
 other than their mothers unless they are en- 
 gaged to them. They pledge themselves all to 
 
186 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 be at home by ten o'clock at night, unless their 
 professions call for it . . ." 
 
 Mr. Foster exclaimed: "Glorious! Glorious!" 
 
 But Mrs. Foster put in with an amiable de- 
 termination: ''I don't quite see, my dear, and I 
 never have seen, my dear, though I have heard 
 you say the same thing at least twenty times, 
 how young people are ever to get engaged at 
 all under your rules. Mayn't they even know 
 their female cousins?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Miss Peabody said in her most 
 superior manner; "they may see them in the 
 presence of some fitting elderly woman." 
 
 "But even that," Mrs. Foster replied quite 
 mildly, "must make it rather difficult when a 
 young man wants to propose. Perhaps that is 
 why the birth-rate in America is decreasing." 
 
 Miss Peabody stood up so suddenly that she 
 upset her large coffee-cup. 
 
 "Mrs. Foster," she said, and her cheeks were 
 exceedingly red, "if I was not perfectly sure 
 that you were not, I should think that you de- 
 sired to insult me by suggesting that I advocate 
 race suicide." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know what that means," 
 Mrs. Foster answered. "I may have been sug- 
 gesting that you do advocate it; perhaps you 
 do. You're not the pope, that I know of — 
 
RING FOR NANCY 187 
 
 infallible, and all that sort of thing; though they 
 do say that he isn't infallible, after all." 
 
 For a moment Miss Peabody really looked 
 quite dangerous, but she sat down after she 
 had shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "Of course" — she addressed herself markedly 
 to Mrs. Foster — "a young man can always pro- 
 pose by letter, preferably addressed to the par- 
 ents of his intended. That is a very great ad- 
 vantage, for a young man can not afterward 
 get out of his engagement as he could if the 
 proposal were made in the private circum- 
 stances that are usual in Europe. I expect to 
 see a complete disappearance of the Breach of 
 Promise Suit in the United States." 
 
 Mrs. Foster, who was really placable enough, 
 remarked: "Oh, well, my dear, I have no 
 doubt that if you are managing the United 
 States, they're well managed. But if you didn't 
 sleep well, I hope there wasn't anything the 
 matter with your room; because, of course, 
 that's my business, and not these things that I 
 don't understand very well; though Admiral 
 Brent was accustomed to say, that for all I was 
 so quiet, I could see as far over a millstone as 
 the man who made the sixty-two foot telescope 
 there was such an excitement about in the year 
 1852, which was two years after I was born." 
 
188 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Olympia said: "Oh, there was nothing the 
 matter with the room. I had anxieties." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said suddenly: "Will you not 
 take some more coffee, miss?" 
 
 And Miss Peabody answered tartly: "I have 
 already signified that I desire more coffee. It 
 stands to reason as I upset my first cup." 
 
 Mr. Foster exclaimed: "Anxieties, my hon- 
 ored guest? I hope not. Not about money, 
 or — er — about my nephew?" 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: "Miss Peabody's little 
 dog was lost nearly all night, sir." 
 
 "And enough to make anybody anxious," 
 Mr. Foster commented. 
 
 Olympia said coldly: "It is extraordinary 
 how servants interrupt in this country. In Bos- 
 ton we should not stand it for a minute." 
 
 Mrs. Foster really trembled with nervousness. 
 
 "Oh," she said, "Miss Jenkins is hardly a 
 servant. She's the Lady Savylle's confidential 
 attendant. She has very kindly consented to 
 wait upon us because the butler has a bad foot, 
 and though I'm sure we have other servants 
 enough, I don't think I should like to see them 
 handle her ladyship's best breakfast service, 
 which is all real Spode, though I am sure I 
 don't know what that may mean. But per- 
 haps," she continued anxiously, "your little dog 
 
RING FOR NANCY 189 
 
 doesn't like your room. Perhaps you would 
 like to change on that account?" 
 
 Again Miss Jenkins interrupted. 
 
 "Major Foster doesn't like his room. Per- 
 haps her lady — I mean Miss Peabody — would 
 like to change with him?" 
 
 "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort," 
 Miss Olympia said. 
 
 And then Mrs. Foster continued: "As for 
 Edward, I'm perfectly certain he never gave 
 anybody any anxiety in his life, except when 
 he went away like that. I had a long con- 
 versation with him last night, and it quite 
 brought the tears to my eyes. We have been 
 cruel and misjudging to him all these years, 
 and I'm not going to sit here and listen to sug- 
 gestions that he cost anybody any anxiety. It's 
 not fair, and I won't." And Mrs. Foster, who 
 was really shaking with anger, stood up and be- 
 gan to move along the table. "I'm sure," she 
 exclaimed, "if there's anything I can do to make 
 up for it I will; and it's the greatest satisfaction 
 to me to have him in this house, and I hope 
 he will never leave it." 
 
 "But it's Lady Savylle's house," Mr. Foster 
 said. 
 
 "I don't care," Mrs. Foster repHed; "I don't 
 care whose house it is. It's the house he likes 
 
190 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 best in the world, and I hope he may never 
 leave it." And Mrs. Foster went agitatedly out 
 of the room. 
 
 It was not really a very comfortable breakfast 
 for anybody. The major and Miss Delamare 
 and Mrs. Kerr Howe drifted in one after the 
 other. But Miss Peabody, who had finished her 
 breakfast at least half an hour before, was peer- 
 ing into the breakfast-room from behind the 
 statue of a plaster lion that was gnawing the 
 head off of a plaster serpent. Miss Jenkins 
 was careful to inform them of this fact, ^nd 
 indeed they could see George Washington frisk- 
 ing round the base of the statue itself, so that 
 they all sat as far away as they could from one 
 another at the long table and spoke hardly at all. 
 And after that they had a long day of the park, 
 and the piano, and the proofs, which were cor- 
 rected against tree-trunks, all of them being 
 under the surveillance of Miss Peabody. And 
 in the evening the major and Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 and Miss Delamare tried to play bridge, but, as 
 Miss Peabody was in a mood to unbend and 
 desired to learn this frivolous and innocent 
 game, they all retired to bed at a quarter to 
 ten, having got with difficulty through one 
 rubber. 
 
 The major had changed his bedroom because, 
 
RING FOR NANCY 191 
 
 as he remarked to his aunt, the noise in the 
 huge chimney was distracting. And as he also 
 remarked, if his day could not have been said 
 to resemble the dazzling glitter of life which he 
 had not been accustomed to lead among the idle 
 and dissolute Smart Set, it could not, on the 
 other hand, be said to differ very much from a 
 rest cure in the country which the doctors had 
 recommended him to take. So that there, as he 
 said, they all were. 
 
 In this singular peace three days passed. 
 They were all really very tired people on whom 
 London had enforced a desire for rest — all ex- 
 cept Miss Peabody, who desired not so much 
 rest as a period for reflection. Miss Peabody, 
 of course, did not desire that any of Mr. Fos- 
 ter's money — which she regarded as already her 
 own — should go to Miss Delamare's theater. 
 At least, she was not quite sure that she did not 
 desire it. She had a natural hatred for Miss 
 Delamare, as she had a natural hatred for most 
 people. And she would very much have liked 
 to have hit Miss Delamare very hard, just as 
 she would very much have liked to have hit 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe harder still. But when it came 
 to the theater she was not quite certain. She 
 was even not quite certain that she would be 
 
192 RING FOR NANCYi 
 
 able, by any amount of denunciation, to make 
 Mr. Foster abandon that scheme — but these 
 were not quite ordinary circumstances. Mrs. 
 Foster was not deeply engaged on the side of 
 Miss Delamare, and although Miss Peabody had 
 the greatest contempt in the world for Mrs.- 
 Foster, she could not help seeing that Mr. Fos- 
 ter was really extremely afraid of his wife. And 
 even if Miss Peabody had wanted to smash Miss 
 Delamare and Mrs. Kerr Howe over the inci- 
 dent of the panel, she was not by any means; 
 certain that they could be proved to have be- 
 haved disreputably enough to give her the han- 
 dle which she wanted. She considered that they 
 had been hateful, but she could not prove that 
 they had acted disreputably, without at least 
 showing that she herself had been rather ridicu- 
 lous. 
 
 She had, indeed, had a haughty interview with 
 Miss Jenkins on the following night, and Miss 
 Jenkins' tale had so exactly coincided with the 
 version that she got from the major himself, 
 that Miss Peabody simply did not see how she 
 could get any kind of guilt out of the pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 And, indeed, she was not quite certain that 
 she wanted the new theater suppressed. She 
 would have liked to smash Miss Delamare 
 
RING FOR NANCY 193 
 
 without smashing the theater. She had tried to 
 point out to Mr. Foster that Miss Delamare, 
 whose chief accomplishments were that she 
 could sing five notes and kick down her own 
 back hair, was not exactly the sort of person 
 to run a theater which, she imagined, would be 
 chiefly concerned with the plays of Ibsen and 
 Mr. Bernard Shaw. But when she had pro- 
 pounded this theory to Mr. Foster it simply did 
 not come off at all. Mr. Foster was so entirely 
 ignorant of any theatrical knowledge, that he 
 did not know the difference between musical 
 comedy and the serious drama. Indeed, the 
 only theatrical performance that he had ever 
 seen was that Pigs is Pigs itself, and this 
 performance had so bewildered and so delighted 
 him, and Miss Delamare had kicked about and 
 sung with such grace, and smiled with such jolly 
 sweetness, that Mr. Arthur Foster seriously 
 considered that she was not only the greatest, 
 but the nicest and most respectable actress in 
 the world. 
 
 Mrs. Foster, on the other hand, had several 
 times been taken to performances of Shakes- 
 peare by her sister, the admiral's wife, and 
 these performances had so terrified or so bored 
 her, since they all appeared to be gouging 
 out one another's eyes, or stabbing some one 
 
194 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 else in the back, or being an unpleasant ghost, 
 or making incomprehensible speeches over skulls 
 — Shakespeare, in fact, had so terrified and 
 agonized Mrs. Foster, that when she came to 
 see Pigs is Pigs, and Flossie twirling about 
 and squeaking with her little voice, she really 
 thought that this was, comparatively speaking, 
 heaven. And she had already found Flossie so 
 kind and attentive, and as it were, daughterly, 
 that she simply told her husband that there was 
 an end of it. He had simply got to consider 
 Miss Delamare as not only the greatest actress 
 in the world, but as absolutely the one most 
 suited to manage the new pure drama. 
 
 So that when Miss Peabody tried gently to 
 suggest that she could not imagine Miss Dela- 
 mare playing Nora in A DolVs House, or the 
 heroine in Man and Superman, or, for the 
 matter of that, a tragic charwoman who had to 
 be arrested by a policeman for stealing a silver 
 box that she had not stolen, she found that Mr. 
 Foster, though he simply did not understand 
 her, regarded her as talking almost blasphem- 
 ously, since it was an article of faith in that 
 household to consider that Miss Delamare could 
 do anything. Moreover, Mr. Foster was aware 
 that the greatest and most serious Nonconform- 
 ist dramatic critic of the day had several times 
 
RING FOR NANCY 195 
 
 called Miss Delamare the symphonic embodi- 
 ment of quaint imbecility; and although Mr. 
 Foster did not in the least understand what this 
 meant — for the matter of that, Miss Delamare 
 herself did not — it seemed to be a satisfactory 
 testimonial to some sort of gift and obvious 
 respectability, since neither Mrs. nor Mr. Fos- 
 ter could imagine the great critic praising any- 
 body who was not at least as respectable as 
 Mrs. Gurney, of Earlham. They were perfectly 
 convinced that he would not have soiled his pen 
 by praising any one who was at all disreputable 
 — that was how it struck them; and Miss Pea- 
 body knew quite well that if she tried any fur- 
 ther to interfere with this belief, they would 
 simply tell her that, being a foreigner, she could 
 not be expected to understand an institution so 
 thoroughly British as musical comedy. 
 
 In that way she was really up against it, and 
 as has been remarked, she was not by any 
 means certain that she wanted to stop the new 
 theater altogether. For, remarkable as it ap- 
 peared to her, the prospect of being married, 
 which for many years had seemed to her to be 
 singularly remote, had operated in an extraordi- 
 nary manner in changing her point of view. 
 She found, when she questioned herself each 
 night over her diary, that, extraordinary as the 
 
196 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 confession seemed, she was not any longer half 
 so interested in the suppression of sin. She had 
 actually to write down in the pages of that 
 locked book that now that she was going to 
 have — and, indeed, she was actually having — a 
 good time herself, she was not so anxious to 
 suppress the enjoyment of six hundred and 
 forty thousand reformed young men. Life, in- 
 deed, appeared to have an entirely new aspect 
 for Miss Peabody. 
 
 She was beginning in England to discover 
 that there were such things as social amenities, 
 social scales and social advancements. In Bos- 
 ton she had been a member of a rather dis- 
 agreeable upper six hundred, but she was be- 
 ginning to discover that it might be almost 
 more agreeable in England to have the right to 
 go through a door before some other woman. 
 And she was beginning to think that it must be 
 extraordinarily sweet to be called "your lady- 
 ship." Once or twice when Miss Jenkins had 
 given her this title by a slip of the tongue. Miss 
 Peabody had positively quivered with delight. 
 And Miss Peabody had been observing the man- 
 ners and customs of the English people for long 
 enough to know that the stage in some singular 
 way led to titles. As far as she had been able 
 to discover, every wife of an actor-manager was 
 
RING FOR NANCY 197 
 
 always "her ladyship." So that she was not 
 by any means certain that she desired the 
 scheme for the new pure theater to be sup- 
 pressed. 
 
 And even her scheme for the amalgamation 
 of the L.S.S.V. and the B.A.A.S. tended a Httle 
 in this direction. She was beginning to get 
 tired of these things, and she was beginning to 
 think that she wanted Mr. Foster to drop them, 
 too. She could not help seeing that sort of 
 thing was not really fashionable in England, and 
 she imagined that, by amalgamating the two so- 
 cieties, putting them under the managership of 
 a professional philanthropist like Colonel Hang- 
 bird and nominating herself president and Mr. 
 Foster vice-president — though they would have 
 nothing whatever of the work of the associa- 
 tions, they would get just as much as ever of 
 the glory, and at the same time, they would 
 not have attaching to them the sort of snuffy 
 Nonconformist feeling that she perceived to 
 attach to most British philanthropists, who gen- 
 erally wore low collars, soft felt hats and untidy 
 beards. Since she had known and become en- 
 gaged to the major, these adornments of the 
 male being no longer appeared to her as desir- 
 able as they had done in the days when they 
 had seemed to her to be the symbols of purity. 
 
198 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 benevolence and teetotalism. Alas! she no 
 longer cared much for any of these three 
 things, for she could not find any particular 
 trace of them in her "intended". 
 
 So that, as she saw her future life, she was 
 going to be a patroness — a haughty and aloof 
 patroness — of a quite meritorious philanthropic 
 enterprise, and she was also going to be, as 
 Mrs. Edward Brent Foster, quite a distinguished 
 figure in British social life because she would 
 have so much influence with the new theater. 
 It was an entirely different world. And, indeed, 
 the only use that she had left for the labors of 
 her old life was, that by keeping Mr. Foster 
 hard at work on the amalgamating of the two 
 societies that she intended to throw over, she 
 kept him also entirely under her thumb, and 
 occupied his study, which commanded a view 
 of the entire parkland territory where a few 
 deer wandered about between the characters of 
 the drama that she was engaged in managing. 
 
 It was just before lunch on the third day that 
 Miss Peabody observed her ladyship's own 
 maid, who was all black and white like a mag- 
 pie in her cap and apron, marching straight over 
 the greensward in a bee-line for where the major 
 was sitting under his oak tree. She was coming 
 
RING FOR NANCY 199 
 
 from the front door, which was at the end, not 
 the middle, of the house. And Miss Peabody 
 was out upon the greensward before she had 
 breathed twice. And then all sorts of people 
 turned up. Mr. Foster looked out of the win- 
 ' dow of his study; Mrs. Foster and Miss Dela- 
 ^^are came out of the French windows of the 
 ^Krawing-room ; Mrs. Kerr Howe, with her long 
 ^ftroofs streaming from her hands, was walking 
 ^■iwiftly toward the major, and round the corner 
 !^H>f the house, from the direction of the front 
 ^■oor, there appeared no less than two police- 
 ^Bnen with bicycles, and a terrific old gentleman 
 ^Bn a fur coat, who sat very high upon an im- 
 mense horse. And they all of them bore down 
 upon the major. 
 
 And the first sound that struck all their ears 
 was the terrific voice of the old gentleman, who 
 had reined up his brown horse within a yard or 
 so of the major, and was extending his arm in 
 a splendid gesture. 
 
 "Officers," he shouted, "do your duty! That 
 is the man. Arrest him at once for drunken- 
 ness, assault, the use of obscene language and 
 theft!" 
 
 They all of them stood absolutely still in the 
 sunlight, except the two policemen, sturdy and 
 pink-faced fellows, who pushed their bicycles 
 
200 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 bashfully toward the major. They each of 
 them touched the glazed black shades of their 
 caps to him, and pulling their wallets from 
 behind their backs, produced the one a blue, the 
 other a white slip of paper; and each of them 
 remarked, *'Very sorry, sir; a summons, sir." 
 
 The major carefully placed his book-mark be- 
 tween the pages of The Sacred Founts set the 
 book down on the brown rug upon which he 
 was sitting, extended his hand and exclaimed 
 as he took the papers: 
 
 "That's all right, that's all right, my good 
 men. Go round to the kitchen and get them 
 to give you some beer." 
 
 The two poHcemen, with automatic actions, 
 swung their bicycles round, and pushing them 
 at their sides, went away toward the house- 
 end. 
 
II 
 
 T was Mr. Arthur Foster who broke next 
 the spell of appalled silence. He came out 
 >f his French window, and when he was near 
 |hem he called in agitating and panting tones: 
 
 "What's all this dreadful thing?'' 
 
 The major was contentedly, and with atten- 
 tive expression, reading the two summonses 
 ^hile he leaned his back against the trunk of 
 the oak tree. But the old gentleman, who was 
 mrveying them all triumphantly from the top 
 ►f his immense horse, shouted out: 
 
 "This abandoned wretch has been visited by 
 lis country's laws for the offense of drunken- 
 less, assault, the use of obscene language and 
 :heft!" 
 
 Mr. Foster threw his hands up to the sky; 
 
 !rs. Foster remarked beneath her breath that 
 Edward really seemed to have been enjoying 
 life in spite of everything; Miss Delamare 
 paughed so loudly that she really had to hold 
 ler sides; Mrs. Kerr Howe shook her proofs 
 Lt the old gentleman and remarked: "You in- 
 famous old scoundrel !" Miss Jenkins stood per- 
 
 201 
 
202 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 fectly still, looking at Miss Peabody with a 
 watchful, attentive and questioning expression; 
 Miss Peabody stood gazing at the major with 
 enormous eyes, and her eyes did not believe 
 and did not understand what they saw. 
 
 She had observed for one thing, in a sort of 
 dream, that one of the policemen had, with a 
 sudden, extraordinarily stiff and sharp movement, 
 saluted Miss Jenkins as he went by, and Miss 
 Jenkins had shaken her head and put one finger 
 to her lips. And, in a sort of dream, Miss Pea- 
 body had noticed these things with satisfaction, 
 for she considered that they pointed with abso- 
 lute certainty to the fact that Miss Jenkins had 
 a vulgar intrigue with this policeman, and she 
 considered that this would give her a handle 
 against Miss Jenkins, who was certainly not the 
 sort of person to be confidential attendant upon 
 a lady of title. She remarked to herself: "I've 
 got you, my lady." And then she shook off her 
 stiffness of consternation and addressed the 
 major in the following terms. She stretched 
 her arms out, indeed, and was preparing to fall 
 upon his neck, when it occurred to her that as 
 the major was sitting against a tree-trunk, that 
 operation would be not only difficult but prob- 
 ably dangerous. 
 
 "Edward," she said, "I don't for a moment 
 
RING FOR NANCY 203 
 
 believe these odious and scandalous charges; 
 but even if they w^ere proved to the hilt, believe 
 that your battered and tried heart should find 
 upon this bosom a resting-place." 
 
 Miss Jenkins looked at the major with a cool 
 and dispassionate glance, and they all heard her 
 remark to Mrs. Foster: 
 
 "Well, then, even that's no go, ma'am." She 
 walked away also in the direction of the house- 
 end, and Miss Peabody remarked to herself 
 with satisfaction that the odious creature had 
 certainly gone to rejoin her policeman. 
 
 They all of them made the ejaculation that 
 might have been expected of them, but the 
 major sat against the tree-trunk and just 
 laughed, while Mrs. Kerr Howe voluminously 
 explained the situation. 
 
 "My dear thing," the major remarked to Miss 
 Peabody in the dog-cart — for the first summons 
 had been returnable for that very afternoon — 
 "it's remotely possible that I may be in some 
 sort of a fix, but I can assure you . . ." 
 
 "Oh, my dear Edward," she exclaimed, and 
 she was really perfectly in earnest, "you don't 
 need to assure me of anything. I regard you 
 simply as a hero — and a hero for my sake. I 
 quite understand that you imagined that I 
 
204 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 should dislike your traveling for many hours 
 alone with Mrs. Kerr Howe. And although 
 that was exceedingly foolish of you — for it must 
 be obvious that I haven't a spark of jealousy in 
 my composition, and I hope I am above any 
 foolishness of that sort — all the same, you have 
 lived entirely in a conventional world, and I 
 quite understand that it was just part of your 
 invariable kindness and consideration for me 
 when you pulled that dreadful old gentleman 
 into the carriage to act as a chaperon. And 
 I have no doubt that you may have taken a 
 little more champagne than was exactly good 
 for you at lunch because you may have been 
 taking farewell of some of your male friends 
 
 "I assure you, Olympia," the major said, "I 
 was as sober as the twenty judges. I had a 
 boiled mutton-chop and some barley water at 
 the Rag." 
 
 "It's impossible, my dear Edward," Miss 
 Peabody continued kindly but firmly, "for me 
 to follow out my train of thought, or even to 
 construct a grammatical sentence, if you will 
 persist in interrupting me with statements that 
 are quite unnecessary. I say I simply do not 
 inquire whether you had had too much cham- 
 pagne or not. I have begun to realize, as with- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 205 
 
 out doubt you notice, that there are certain 
 things — certain customs in this old country 
 which, although they would ill become a gentle- 
 man of America, are nevertheless appropriate 
 and necessary for a person of your position in 
 this country. One of these customs I under- 
 stand is, that when a young man is upon the 
 point of marrying, he gives a farewell entertain- 
 ment — or even a series of farewell entertain- 
 ments — to the bachelor friends of his youth. 
 And I understand that upon these occasions a 
 great deal of wine is drunk because, as I have 
 been told, it is the custom for every person 
 present at the table to toast the bride; where- 
 upon the young man must reply by drinking a 
 full glass of wine with each person present, the 
 phrase, as far as I can remember it, running, 
 'And no heel-taps.' " 
 
 "Oh, hang it all, Olympia," the major said, 
 "youVe been reading about the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. Modern people never touch anything 
 stronger than barley water at lunch." 
 
 "So that," Miss Olympia continued with 
 equanimity, "if you were slightly — let me say, 
 elevated — I can only consider that you were in 
 that sad condition entirely for my sake. And 
 of course, when it comes to the use of obscene 
 language, I must confess that some of the 
 
206 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 phrases you use, though in themselves perfectly 
 innocent and having no blasphemous or im- 
 proper significance, are nevertheless singular 
 and incomprehensible. You are fond, for in- 
 stance, of saying that some one handed you a 
 lemon . . ." 
 
 *'Oh, but hang it all," the major interrupted, 
 "that's an Americanism; I only use American- 
 isms now and then to make you feel comfort- 
 able and home-like. Personally I detest them. 
 To hand any one a lemon means . . ." 
 
 *T am perfectly well aware what the phrase 
 means," Miss Peabody said. "It signifies what 
 in English we should term a rebuff or a slap in 
 the face. But you must consider, that to a 
 person not in the least knowing what the phrase 
 may signify, and casting about in his or her 
 mind for an allegoric meaning — to such a per- 
 son — supposing you should use the phrase, *She 
 handed him a lemon and he quit,* as you are 
 fond of doing when you desire to be amusing — 
 to such a person the words might seem to con- 
 note a reference to the fall of man when Eve 
 handed Adam an apple — which, however, was 
 a fruit more exactly resembling a lemon and 
 not an apple at all — and our first parents were 
 forced to leave the Garden of Eden ; and, as you 
 arc aware, to many old-fashioned people, any 
 
RING FOR NANCY 207 
 
 reference to Holy Writ is apt to be considered 
 not only blasphemous, but even in this particu- 
 lar case possibly obscene." 
 
 "But I never said anything about handing 
 anybody a lemon," the major said. *'I shouldn't 
 among English people. They don't like your 
 American slang. And look here, you say I was 
 drunk . . ." The major was about to enter 
 upon an eloquent disclaimer, when the horse 
 that he was driving shied a little because his 
 uncle's motor, which contained Mr. and Mrs. 
 Foster, Mrs. Kerr Howe, Miss Delamare, and, 
 beside the chauffeur. Miss Jenkins, passed them 
 rapidly, being bound also for the county town. 
 And when he had coaxed the horse to be quiet, 
 it suddenly occurred to the major that to con- 
 vince his fiancee that he had not been drunk, 
 and that he had not used any obscene language 
 at all, would be to inflict a certain cruelty upon 
 her. For the lady was obviously reveling in 
 the romance of an eighteenth-century situation. 
 She had, she imagined, got hold of a terrific 
 lover who swore, drank with no heel-taps, and 
 swaggered ferociously about the world at the 
 mention of his mistress's name. And, indeed. 
 Miss Peabody continued tranquilly: 
 
 "I don't in this case blame you for having 
 taken too much champagne, and supposing that 
 
208 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 you did become rather heated with the old 
 gentleman and used fierce language when he 
 objected to your having dragged him into the 
 railway carriage, all the same, since the whole 
 thing was for my sake . . .'* 
 
 "Well, Olympia," the major said, "you really 
 have averaged it out pretty well. It's astonish- 
 ing how perspicacious youVe been. I was, of 
 course, a little bit on, but I'm glad you see that 
 the circumstances demanded it in your honor. 
 And, of course, I was absolutely determined to 
 have some sort of chaperon for the sake of 
 your peace of mind, and the old gentleman did 
 become rather violent, and I did answer him 
 back with some ferocity . . ." 
 
 "I don't say," Miss Peabody said softly, "that 
 it's at all discreditable to you . . ." 
 
 "All the same," the major put in, "I can't 
 exactly acknowledge these things in court." 
 
 "Oh, why not?" Miss Peabody said, and she 
 appeared decidedly disappointed. 
 
 "Oh, well," the major answered, "I don't 
 want to get a month." 
 
 "I should be just the same to you when you 
 came out," Olympia remarked. 
 
 "Of course, that would be very precious," the 
 major conceded; "but what should I feel like 
 when I was in? Besides, there's Mrs. Kerr 
 
'RING FOR NANCY 209 
 
 Howe to be considered. She insists on giving 
 evidence. She v^ouldn't like it to appear that 
 she traveled with a drunken and disreputable 
 companion. She hasn't got the advantage of 
 knowing as you do that it was entirely for 
 her sake." 
 
 "But still . . ." Miss Peabody was beginning. 
 
 "Oh, no, Olympia," the major interrupted, "I 
 can't let it go so far as that. Of course, you're 
 at liberty to tell all your friends in private how 
 creditable the whole thing really was, and how 
 pleasing it must naturally be to you. But I am 
 afraid I've got to defend it. I've wired, in fact, 
 to the guard of the train to come and give evi- 
 dence, and, of course, that good fellow, not 
 being particularly quick in his perceptions, will 
 give evidence that I was as sober as the twenty 
 judges I have just mentioned." 
 
 "I must say that is rather disappointing." 
 Miss Olympia gave up the contest. "But I will 
 say this, Edward, that, whatever happens, I am 
 thoroughly and entirely convinced of your chiv- 
 alrous attachment to myself, and that I have 
 nothing in the world to complain of with re- 
 gard to your own proceedings, whatever I may 
 have to say of other people. I never till now 
 met a man with whom I was so entirely satis- 
 fied, and I don't suppose I ever shall again." 
 
210 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Well, of course, it would be rather awkward 
 if you did," the major said. He gazed hard at 
 the polished metal that decorated the horse's 
 breeching-strap, and he remained lost in reflec- 
 tion. A speck of dust flew into his tender eye, 
 and he realized that he ought not to have been 
 driving at all. But he had wanted to have a 
 talk with Olympia. He had had it. Of that 
 there could be no doubt. 
 
 He set down Miss Peabody on the front step 
 of the County's Meet Hotel, where the rest of 
 the party were awaiting them, and then he 
 drove round into the inn yard to give up the 
 horse to a hostler. His eye was really hurting 
 him so much that it was all he could do to find 
 his way into the private bar, for very decidedly 
 he needed a drink. The bar was rather dark, 
 and an amiable barmaid gave him a whisky and 
 soda, and then inspected his eyelid which he 
 pulled down, to see if she could discover the 
 speck of dust. At the other end of the coun- 
 ter a man, whom he made out only dimly, was 
 talking to a lady whom he could not make out 
 at all. 
 
 "I can't say, ma'am," the man said. "I 
 didn't intend to go on the bench at all to-day. 
 I just meant to sit in the well of the court and 
 take notes." 
 
 The major could not hear what the lady said 
 
RING FOR NANCY 211 
 
 beneath her breath. He only caught the name 
 "Mr. Broadrib," and he recognized that the 
 other man was the labor member of ParHa- 
 ment for one of the three constituencies that 
 met in that part of the world. 
 
 "It's no use talking any nonsense, ma'am," 
 Mr. Broadrib said in his metallic voice. *'The 
 bench is set on giving your friend three months. 
 And they'll make it six if they get any kind 
 of a chance. I tell you plainly they won't if 
 I can stop it, but I don't know whether I can." 
 
 Again the lady said something. 
 
 "It's no good my going on the bench," Mr. 
 Broadrib said, "if I'm to be out-voted when 
 they retire to consider their decision. You 
 don't know the extraordinary old crowd of od- 
 dities they've got together. You know perfectly 
 well that the Lord Chancellor's hand has been 
 forced so that he daren't appoint any Conserva- 
 tive J.P.'s in this part of the world. And in 
 this part of the world there's not a Liberal 
 that's got threepence-halfpenny a week to his 
 name. I quite agree with your ladyship that 
 it's a shame there shouldn't be; but you know 
 what these country districts are, and except in 
 my constituency, you are the only person who 
 dare call herself a Liberal for fear of losing the 
 bread and butter out of her mouth. So the 
 Lord Chancellor has to fall back upon cranks. 
 
212 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "It's a most extraordinary sight, our bench. 
 They've all got beards like morning mists and 
 hair like sheep's wool that's never been combed. 
 But there it is. There's Mr. Justice Hills, He's 
 a judge of King's Bench, and he goes mad at 
 the sight of an Irishman. And I understand 
 your friend is an Irishman. And there's Sir 
 Arthur Johnson. Of course, as he's the prose- 
 cutor, he ought not to sit on the bench, but 
 he'll probably make a jolly good shot at doing 
 so, and you never know what these country 
 justices won't do. Then there's Christopher 
 Sharp, the Privy Councilor. You know him. 
 He's a millionaire squire, and he goes mad at 
 the sight of any man with a decent coat on his 
 back. Socialism of the cracked variety! And 
 there's the Honorable Charles Widgeon. He's 
 the second son of the field-marshal. He's the 
 gentleman who accused Thomas Atkins of spit- 
 ting twenty thousand Boer babies with bayonets 
 during the South African War. He goes mad at 
 the sight of a soldier. So, I'm afraid, whatever 
 happens, your friend is pretty sure of three 
 months, and just as likely as not it will be six." 
 
 The lady whispered again. 
 
 "I tell you, your Ladyship," the man's- voice 
 repeated, "that it wouldn't be the least use. I 
 should only be one against three or four if I 
 
 
RING FOR NANCY 213 
 
 \\ sat on the bench. They'd out-vote me. The 
 [\ very most that I can do is to listen to the evi- 
 dence from the v^ell of the court, and telegraph 
 to the home secretary the moment the sen- 
 tence is pronounced." 
 
 The major, rubbing his sore eyes, heard the 
 lady's voice say clearly and distinctly: 
 
 "Why not telegraph to him at once as if the 
 sentence had been pronounced? Then he might 
 suspend judgment before it is uttered." 
 
 Mr. Broadrib pushed his bowler hat back on 
 his head. 
 
 "That's an idea," he said; "that's certainly 
 an idea. I have already written to the home 
 secretary giving him the details of the case. 
 The point is, that we can't have these tribunals, 
 which are supposed to be Liberal, though they 
 certainly aren't, be made to appear ridiculous. 
 Now can we, your Ladyship?" 
 
 Again the lady said clearly: "I should think 
 it would be extremely bad for the party." 
 
 And the major really started. His eyes were 
 no longer watering, but, before each of them, 
 was the fatal round blur like a mist that had 
 ruined his career. He could not see the bar- 
 maid's face; he could not see Mr. Broadrib's 
 face; by looking quickly downward he seemed 
 to be able to dodge the blur and to see for a 
 
214 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 moment his own hands. But that was as far 
 as it went. 
 
 Mr. Broadrib struck the bar counter with his 
 fist. "It's certainly an idea," he said; and then 
 he added: "Give me a minute or two to think 
 about it. I was never the one to desert a 
 friend, and you fought Hke a Trojan for me at 
 the election. If I can think of a form of words, 
 I certainly will telegraph to the home secre- 
 tary within these five minutes." 
 
 The lady suddenly disappeared in the deep 
 shadows through a little door that led into the 
 hotel. Mr. Broadrib sat still, looking abstract- 
 edly at three scarlet claret glasses that formed 
 the decoration just under his nose. 
 
 "I say," the major finally addressed him, 
 "who did you happen to be talking about?" 
 
 "About a man," Mr. Broadrib said, "called 
 Major Edward Brent Foster." 
 
 "Well, that's me," the major said. 
 
 "Of course, I knew it was," Mr. Broadrib 
 answered. "I thought you might like to know 
 how the land lay, or I should not have talked 
 like that in a bar." 
 
 The major said, "Oh!" and then: "Fm very 
 much obliged." Then he asked: "And that 
 lady who appeared to be interested in me — 
 who was she?" 
 
 I 
 
RING FOR NANCY 215 
 
 "That was Lady Savylle, of Higham," Mr. 
 Broadrib said. "She's an old friend of mine." 
 
 "Well, she was always a confounded Radical/* 
 the major commented. "She can afford to be." 
 
 And then he made a clumsy rush toward 
 the dark door through which the lady had dis- 
 appeared. He upset three high cane stools and 
 stumbled over a copper spittoon. Then he felt 
 his arm grasped by Mr. Broadrib. 
 
 "Look here, my friend," the Liberal member 
 said, "you are not going into court drunk, are 
 you?" 
 
 "I'm not drunk," the major answered him. 
 "I'm going blind." He tried to look at Mr. 
 Broadrib, but he could not see him. "In the 
 service of my grateful country," he added. 
 
 Mr. Broadrib grasped his arm firmly by the 
 elbow. 
 
 "Then you had better let me take you into 
 :ourt," he said. "Come along with me." 
 
 He marched the major off. 
 
Ill 
 
 ^TpHE Lady Savylle, of Higham, was per- 
 •*• mitted by the manager of the County's 
 Meet Hotel to watch the proceedings in court 
 from the little generally disused door that com- 
 municated from one of the upper passages of 
 the old hotel with the court room of the old 
 town hall. In the old days the county magis- 
 trates had been used to permit any smugglers 
 that were brought before them to escape up a 
 little staircase running up the wall behind their 
 worships* backs. If there looked to be any 
 strong evidence against the smugglers, one of 
 the magistrates would just wink at them, and 
 these hardy and desperate fellows, as the news- 
 papers of the day used to put it, would elude 
 the attention of their guards, rush behind the 
 magistrates' bench up the little wooden stair- 
 case, and through the little door into the hotel 
 corridor. And the door would be slammed in 
 the faces of the constables, who were never in 
 any particular hurry to get their noses pinched. 
 Nowadays the staircase had been taken 
 down, but the door remained, and Lady Savylle 
 
 216 
 
RING FOR NANCY 217 
 
 had heard of its existence from a waiter who 
 had been, man and boy, sixty years in the serv- 
 ice of the hotel. She had given the waiter half 
 a sovereign, and had had the door opened just 
 a little so that she could see well down into the 
 court. The court was a dilapidated place of old 
 panels and decayed woodwork. The smell that 
 came up from it was none of the pleasantest, 
 but the view was quite good. There were a 
 number of people in the court: Mr. Foster and 
 his party, some reporters, a rat-catcher in vel- 
 veteen, and an old mad lady who muttered and 
 winked. Five quite old gentlemen sat on a 
 raised platform. Four of them, indeed, had, in 
 the words of Mr. Broadrib, beards like morn- 
 ing mist and hair like uncombed sheep's wool. 
 Mr. Justice Hills, however, the chairman of the 
 bench, was so exceedingly bald and so clean- 
 shaven, that his head appeared to have been 
 skinned. And all the five of them had heavy 
 expressions, drooping eyelids and airs of buoy- 
 ant ill-temper. The clerk to the justices, a dis- 
 mal man in a very dirty collar, appeared more 
 depressed than anybody else. There were sev- 
 eral policemen about the court, and an old man 
 in a very ragged gown. Lady Savylle felt her- 
 self to be in the presence of the legal powers of 
 her country in formidable array. 
 
218 ORING FOR NANCY 
 
 They dismissed the cases against three poach- 
 ers, threatening to have the gamekeepers who 
 appeared against them prosecuted for perjury 
 and forgery. They sentenced a publican, who 
 was accused of permitting drunkenness on his 
 premises, to ten days' imprisonment without 
 the option of a fine. But this sentence the clerk 
 of the court proceeded to revise. They disa- 
 greed energetically about a case in which the 
 defendant was said to have contravened the 
 regulations against swine fever; for two of the 
 magistrates professed themselves anarchist in- 
 dividualists, and said that the law was prepos- 
 terous, while Sir Arthur Johnson absolutely 
 refused to take the evidence of any inspector. 
 So that case was adjourned. Then Lady Sav- 
 ylle heard a weak voice bleat: 
 
 "Call Edward Brent Foster." 
 
 The major was stepping into a sort of high 
 pew, and a great deal of bustle began; she could 
 see one of the reporters sharpening his pencil 
 with great jerks, and she wondered why he had 
 not got a fountain-pen. And there really was 
 a moment when Sir Arthur Johnson seemed 
 inclined to sit on the bench, but he descended 
 to the witness-box and gave extraordinary and 
 violent evidence, and with many gestures of a 
 sweeping nature so that he resembled a splen- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 219 
 
 did viking. And the story he had to tell was 
 so coherent and so extravagant, that Lady 
 Savylle really thought that the major must 
 have been committing mad crimes. She had 
 the emotions of a person reading a wild Irish 
 book; for Sir Arthur had a most tenacious 
 memory, and repeated phrase after phrase of 
 the major's with the accuracy of a shorthand 
 reporter. i 
 
 The major called the railway guard, who 
 swore that the major was perfectly sober, and 
 in addition, that Sir Arthur was always getting 
 into adventures on the six forty-eight. But the 
 justices would not permit him to continue that 
 part of his evidence. Then the major called Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe, who was at once put into a violent 
 rage by her own particular problem. For she 
 was too frightened of the major's uncle to declare 
 that she was engaged to the major, and extra- 
 ordinarily unwilling to declare that she was not. 
 And then the justices cut her short and sent 
 her out of the witness-box. What the impres- 
 sion she had made on the court was. Lady 
 Savylle could not gather; and no one there had 
 any say in the affair but the justices, so that it 
 did not really matter. The trial, indeed, though 
 it was eccentric enough, was not in the least 
 thrilling except for the imposing attitude of 
 
220 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Sir Arthur, and except for Sir Arthur's evi- 
 dence, it did not take seven minutes — two for 
 the railway guard, two for Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 and three for the major. 
 
 The major went into the witness-box and 
 leaned engagingly over the rail when he had 
 taken the oath. The presiding justice told him 
 to stand up, and he stood at attention. Then 
 he began to speak. 
 
 "I was traveling by the six forty-eight," he 
 said, "and without the beginnings of a reflec- 
 tion on her, I was anxious not to be alone with 
 the lady who has just gone out of the box." 
 
 The presiding justice snapped out, "Why?" 
 and Sir Arthur Johnson from the well of the 
 court called out: 
 
 "That shows the sort of fellow this is!" And 
 then majestically he looked all round him. 
 
 "What we want to know," the tired but 
 ferocious gentleman on the right of the bald 
 chairman asked, "is whether you did, or did 
 not, entice the prosecutor into your compart- 
 ment.?" 
 
 "I invited him," the major said. "I had half 
 a hazy notion that I knew him." 
 
 "You admit, then, that you were hazy?" the 
 tired but ferocious gentleman on the left of the 
 presiding justice asked. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 221 
 
 "I admit nothing of the sort," the major said. 
 "I wanted a companion; the old gentleman 
 wanted a first-class corner seat. I had a re- 
 served carriage and I offered him what he 
 wanted." 
 
 "You admit to being drunk," the chairman 
 said. "You admit to enticing the prosecutor 
 into your compartment. Did you, or didn't 
 you, stamp on his toes?" 
 
 "Of course I stepped on his toes," the major 
 said; "but it was the merest accident. You 
 might have done it." 
 
 The Lady Savylle suddenly had tears in her 
 eyes; she did not know why it was. She was 
 looking down upon him, and he was tired and 
 dispirited; and she felt that he did not care — he 
 did not care for anything so long as he shielded 
 the reputations of Mrs. Kerr Howe and Miss 
 Delamare, and the feelings of Miss Peabody. 
 She wiped her eyes suddenly, for she just had 
 to wipe them. It affected her like a story she 
 had read frequently in Christmas supplements 
 — a story in which a clown keeps his end up 
 thoroughly before the footlights while his little 
 daughter is dying at home of pneumonia and 
 starvation. There was Edward Brent Foster 
 playing his part; amiably and in a voice that 
 just moved her bones. (It felt really like that. 
 
222 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 When he spoke she seemed to have little elec- 
 tric currents running down the very bones of 
 her arms and feet.) He v^as just talking to 
 those farcical old men. And yet for half a 
 dozen reasons he must have misery in his heart. 
 
 "So that you admit," the voice of the bald 
 gentleman v^as saying, "to drunkenness, entic- 
 ing and assault. Now about the theft from 
 the book-stalls . . ." 
 
 The clerk to the justices looked up from 
 below and said: 
 
 "Really, my lord, that is a case upon another 
 summons and in another court. Your Wor- 
 ships can not try that!" 
 
 "It's a question as to the credit of the wit- 
 ness," Sir Arthur thundered. The three old 
 men had all whispered together, and then with 
 an astonishing swiftness the chairman remarked: 
 
 "Two months for the assault, two months for 
 the drunkenness, and two for the use of blas- 
 phemous and obscene language. The decencies 
 of life must be maintained against these liber- 
 tines. The sentences to run consecutively." 
 And then he added: "Call the next case!" and 
 fell back into his chair as if he were exhausted 
 to the point of death. This was his favorite 
 attitude when he had disposed of a case in the 
 King's Bench. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 223 
 
 It was then that Miss Delamare fainted. She 
 fell right off the bench on which she had been 
 sitting with a thud, but with no other sound. 
 And she was so pretty, and so picturesque, that 
 the policeman who had been suggesting to the 
 major that he should leave the dock and go 
 into the door marked "Prisoners," ran away to 
 get a glass of water. Sir Arthur exclaimed: 
 "Infamous!" though it was not clear whether 
 his remark was addressed to the policeman or 
 to Miss Delamare; and some one bleated, "Si- 
 lence !" to no one in particular. And then Mary 
 Savylle saw a telegraph boy wandering along 
 the high backs of the pen that contained the 
 court. He looked about stupidly, and in her 
 excitement she called down: 
 
 "Mr. Broadrib is there! Mr. Broadrib's 
 there!" 
 
 And she found that she had opened the door 
 and was out on the little gallery trying to at- 
 tract the attention of the labor member. And 
 the only person who saw her was the major, 
 who looked up and exclaimed: 
 
 "Mary! By God, Mary!" 
 
 His eyes, which had been rested because he 
 had closed them long and frequently while he 
 waited for his case to come on, had for just a 
 moment grown clearer. He kicked open the 
 
224 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 door of the dock, jumped clear over the form 
 of Miss Delamare, and stumbled against Sir 
 Arthur Johnson, who had set his shoulder 
 toward the major as if he were an association 
 footballer resisting a charge. It was extraor- 
 dinarily quick. Sir Arthur had grasped the 
 major's shirt collar, and before Lady Savylle 
 could understand what they were doing, a 
 white linen circlet was in the irrepressible old 
 gentleman's hand, and the major was tumbling 
 over the telegraph boy in the outer passage. 
 But he picked himself up. And then her lady- 
 ship turned and ran. 
 
 She went down the gallery like a lapwing, 
 and turned up some very moldy stairs; she 
 found herself in a corridor that had two of its 
 windows broken, and the panes stuffed with 
 straw. She pushed open a dilapidated white- 
 washed door and she heard a scream. A ser- 
 vant in her bodice and petticoat was washing 
 her neck at a cracked basin. 
 
 She exclaimed: "I'm Lady Savylle. Lock 
 the door." 
 
 The servant shivered. "I know your lady- 
 ship," she said, "but I don't believe the door's 
 got a lock." 
 
 "Then put the chest of drawers in front of the 
 door," her ladyship commanded. "A man will 
 
RING FOR NANCY 225 
 
 be breaking in here — a wild tearing Irishman!" 
 
 The girl shivered "Oo-oo-oo !" and sank down 
 upon her truckle-bed. And the whole back of 
 the chest of drawers came out when Mary Sav- 
 ylle, who was strong enough, just turned it 
 round and set it against the rotten door. The 
 floor was encumbered with the girl's clothes, 
 cardboard boxes, and hairpins in an immense 
 profusion. It was as if the poor girl who pos- 
 sessed nothing else in the world had spent the 
 whole of her poor fortune on these implements 
 of decoration. She took her hand off her heart 
 and remarked: 
 
 "Your ladyship give me sich a turn!" And 
 then she added: "But I understand it all! Your 
 ladyship is pursued by a too ardent suitor!" 
 
 "That's what they'd say in novelettes," Mary 
 commented. "But he's not really a bit too ar- 
 dent — only the moment is inconvenient. He 
 has been sentenced to six months' labor." 
 
 "Oh, poor dear," the servant said. "Them 
 crule police!" Suddenly she jumped off the 
 bed. "If a gentleman's coming here it's best 
 he shouldn't see me in my naked neck and 
 shoulders," she exclaimed, and she got herself 
 into a black costume that had rusty brown pas- 
 sages and white split seams. Her ladyship was 
 listening. 
 
 I 
 
226 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "There's a noise," she said. 
 
 "Then the sooner I make meself decent," 
 the girl continued, "the better for us all. I 
 shouldn't like a gentleman to see me without 
 my cap and apern." She was covering up the 
 deficiencies of her attire in a passably clean 
 frilled apron, when Mary Savylle asked: 
 
 "Isn't there anything else we could put 
 against the door?" 
 
 "Nothing," the girl answered, with a pro- 
 found conviction. "For the bed, if you do seek 
 to move him, all his legs they do fall off, and 
 the washer-stand do be nailed against the wall, 
 having but two to its body, and the way it do 
 spill water is too tragic, for I suppose you 
 wouldn't want your ardent suitor to get wet." 
 
 At that moment the Lady Savylle could not 
 have said what had brought her there. She 
 must, she supposed, have acted in a sudden 
 panic such as makes the eternal woman flee 
 from the eternal man who in primeval days did 
 his courting with a stone ax. 
 
 "Well, I suppose I had better be going," she 
 said. 
 
 "There's some one on the stairs," the girl 
 cried out. And then she began to scream. She 
 screamed like the whistle of a locomotive; she 
 screamed like the maddest wind in ten thou- 
 
'Your ladyship give me sich a turn 
 
RING FOR NANCY 22Z 
 
 sand telegraph wires. The Lady Savylle shut 
 her ears hard, and saw the rotten door fall over 
 the chest of drawers; then the chest of drawers 
 fell over, letting out new streams of unsus- 
 pected hairpins; and then the major was tramp- 
 ling over the chest of drawers that dissolved 
 leneath his feet. He plunged on the girl in her 
 ip and apron, and shouted out: 
 l"Mary, darling, I've got you now! This 
 ily disguise can't deceive me any more." 
 The girl continued to scream systematically, 
 [onotonously and without emotion, as if she 
 ire a pig being taken to market and having 
 le time of its life, while the major held her 
 a firm grasp. 
 
 And then the word "Infamous!" sounded 
 irough the room. Sir Arthur Johnson, quite 
 It of breath but still triumphant, was crash- 
 ing through the remains of the drawers and 
 the cardboard boxes. He roared: "This is 
 the sort of thing! Seduction of a poor servant 
 in the very arms of justice!" And then he 
 cried: "Officers, come up!" 
 
 The Lady Savylle moved across to the major. 
 She touched his arm that encircled the girl, 
 and said in his ear: 
 
 "If you want Mary Savylle, I am Mary Sav- 
 ylle!" 
 
228 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 He looked round at her with an unseeing 
 glance. 
 
 "I can't see you," he said. "I only saw the 
 cap and apron. Because they/re white," he 
 added. 
 
 His arms released the servant, and she sank 
 down on the bed. The bed collapsed like an 
 over-burdened camel, and there were two 
 frightened policemen in the doorway. Sir Ar- 
 thur thundered: "Officers, advance!" and the 
 girl stopped screaming. It was as if a tap in 
 her had been turned off, and the sudden silence 
 was like a pain. 
 
 The major looked unseeingly at the girl. 
 '*You must be her ladyship's maid!" he ex- 
 claimed with a sort of wonder and awe. "What 
 an extraordinary thing." 
 
 "Fve got too weak a heart," the girl an- 
 swered. "The doctor he say that excitement 
 would kill me. But it's worth it to be her 
 ladyship's maid and live in a novelette and 
 then die sudden!" 
 
 The major repeated in an awed voice: 
 
 "Extraordinary! though the other night . . . 
 I could have sworn the other night . . ." Then i 
 he tried to look at Mary Savylle. "I can't see i 
 you," he said. "It's the exertion. It's affected 
 my circulation! My eyes are full of blood!" 
 
RING FOR NANCY 229 
 
 Sir Arthur shouted: "Enough of this blas- 
 phemous foolery! Officers, do your duty!" 
 
 The frightened policemen did nothing at all. 
 Mr. Broadrib walked into the room; he took 
 hold of the major's elbow. 
 
 *'You'd better go back to the dock," he said 
 in metallic but calm tones. "TheyVe deter- 
 mined to revise your sentence." He added to 
 one of the policemen: "Here, you! Lead this 
 gentleman back to the dock. Be careful with 
 him; he's blind." 
 
 And the major was led away with his dazed 
 and puzzled expression. The Lady Savylle 
 looked at Mr. Broadrib. 
 
 "Oh, my good man!" she exclaimed, and her 
 face was lamentable. "If he's blind . . ." 
 
 And suddenly she stretched out her arms and 
 fell upon Mr. Broadrib's broadcloth shoulder. 
 She wept passionately and passionately. 
 
 "There! There!" Mr. Broadrib said in the 
 tones of an old woman comforting a child for 
 a lost doll. "It's curable! I've seen many cases 
 of it in Africa. Only make him a happy man 
 and let him live at ease . . ." 
 
 The servant, who had begun to cry, crawled, 
 sitting, along her broken bed and began to kiss 
 Lady Savylle's motionless hand that hung 
 against Mr. Broadrib's side. 
 
230 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 *'If faithful service though, with but a weal 
 heart, for the doctor he says it is so . . ." shd' 
 began to blubber out, and she pressed her wet 
 cheek against the hand. 
 
 But Sir Arthur Johnson, who had remained 
 triumphant and majestic, exclaimed to the two 
 women : 
 
 "Now you perceive the results of debauchery 
 and feather-headedness. That infamous scoun- i 
 drel is struck blind in the midst of his excesses; 
 he is overwhelmed by the laws of his country, 
 and you are two betrayed and abandoned 
 women . . ." 
 
 Mr. Broadrib looked round over the Lady 
 Savylle's head that was still upon his shoulder. 
 "Oh, go away for a silly old goat," he said. 
 "Didn't you hear me tell the fellow that his sen- 
 tence is to be revised?" f 
 
 "Yes," Sir Arthur answered, with a splendid 
 unconcern. "I told them they must give him 
 another year, and they will." 
 
 "Well, you run away and see," Mr. Broadrib 
 said. I 
 
 Sir Arthur looked him hard in the eyes. 
 
 "You mean," he gasped, "that you have been 
 meddling! Infamous!" He rushed from the 
 room and they heard him exclaiming "Infa- 
 mous!" all down the stairs. 
 
IV, 
 
 THE major was taken back to Basildon, 
 wrapped up like a bale of merchandise, in 
 the motor; and it fell to Miss Peabody to be 
 driven by the major's uncle in the dog-cart. 
 For Miss Peabody had been deeply offended by 
 Mrs. Foster in the well of the court. Mrs. 
 Foster had wept over the condition of Miss 
 Delamare when she fainted, and this had ap- 
 peared to Miss Peabody to be excessive. She 
 had said that she was the person to be con- 
 sidered, as it was her fiance who was to be sent 
 to prison, not Miss Delamare's. And Mrs. 
 Foster had snapped out that she loved little 
 Flossie's little finger better than the whole of 
 Miss Peabody's body, and so did the major, and 
 so did everybody with eyes in their heads. The 
 words were unconsidered and spoken in emo- 
 tion, but Miss Peabody treasured them up. 
 
 The trial had been resumed and concluded 
 with an air of extraordinary solemnity. The 
 three justices upon the bench looked more tired 
 and more tempestuous than ever; but they had 
 received a telegram addressed to Mr. Broadrib 
 
 231 
 
232 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 and communicated to them which was couched 
 in extraordinarily vigorous terms from the 
 home secretary. And they reaHzed that the 
 eyes of two great parties would certainly be 
 upon them. They were going to act with the 
 dignity that their country and the civilized 
 world expected from them. Twenty minutes 
 before they had been- in a very different case; 
 they had been presiding in an obscure court over 
 an obscure allegation against an obscure mem- 
 ber of the wealthy classes. 
 
 The moment the major was again in the dock, 
 Mr. Justice Hills, who had by now remembered 
 that he was a judge of the King's Bench, re- 
 marked peremptorily: 
 
 "Have you anything to say why sentence 
 should not be pronounced on you?" 
 
 The major remarked: "I thought you had 
 pronounced sentence; I don't care tuppence. 
 You obviously can't do anything so ridiculous 
 as to sentence me to six months' imprison- 
 ment for offenses that I never committed." 
 
 Mr. Justice Hills appeared to be paying him 
 no attention. "The offenses that you have com- 
 mitted," he said, "are very serious, and we 
 might take into consideration also your disre- 
 spectful conduct to the court in leaving the 
 dock before the end of the trial. But taking 
 
RING FOR NANCY 233 
 
 into consideration the fact that a female con- 
 nection of yours had become indisposed, and 
 that you were only acting in the interests of 
 common humanity in desiring to fetch restora- 
 tives for the lady . . ." 
 
 "But I wasn't doing anything of the sort," 
 the major said. 
 
 ". . . taking into consideration the fact that 
 you appeared" the judge said significantly, "to 
 be going to fetch restoratives for the lady, we 
 shall pass over that portion of your conduct. 
 The sentence that we have already pronounced 
 upon you was merely by way of showing you 
 what are our powers. It should serve as an 
 excellent warning to all evil-doers who may 
 be tempted to act in the future as you have 
 done in the past." 
 
 "But bless my soul," the major said, "I 
 didn't do anything at all." 
 
 "But taking into consideration your youth 
 and inexperience," the judge said, "and consid- 
 ering also that a distinguished ornament of this 
 bench" — here Mr. Justice Hills bowed in the 
 direction of Mr. Broadrib — "has seen fit to in- 
 tercede for you, and to explain that you have 
 suffered what it is customary to call *consider- 
 able hardship' in the service of your country, 
 we are ready to use the powers of reconsidera- 
 
234 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 tion that the law has given into our hands, and 
 to apply to you the First Offenders' Act. You 
 are discharged." 
 
 "Well," the major said, "I guess the First 
 Offenders' Act was never more fittingly applied. 
 For wasn't it the first offense of the sort that 
 was ever tried? — to offer an old gentleman a 
 corner seat in one's reserved carriage — for that's 
 the only offense that has been proved against 
 me." Then he stepped down out of the dock 
 and gave the blushing policeman half a sov- 
 ereign. He felt that it was the least he could do 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 There was a great deal of tension in the 
 Manor House that night, for during her drive 
 in the dog-cart, Miss Peabody, who was not in 
 the least satisfied with the course the trial had 
 taken, took occasion to insist that Mr. Arthur 
 Foster should refuse absolutely to sign the con- 
 tract for the new theater. She took occasion 
 also to say many things that completely de- 
 stroyed the character of Miss Delamare. For 
 what had most irritated her in the things of the 
 trial had been the fact that Miss Delamare had 
 fainted and not she herself. This appeared to 
 her to be the most disgraceful episode in the 
 disgraceful career of that actress, for she con- 
 sidered that the fainting fit was an absolute 
 
RING FOR NANCY 235 
 
 proof of what she called "guilty relations" be- 
 tween Miss Delamare and the major. So that, 
 when he got down from the dog-cart, Mr. Arthur 
 Foster went straight to his wife's room and an- 
 nounced that he was determined to refuse Miss 
 Delamare the leading part in the new theater. 
 
 To his intense relief his wife said not a single 
 word beyond the one phrase: "Then I advise 
 you not to say a word of it to Miss Delamare." 
 But there was a sort of steely enigmatic man- 
 ner about the lady that seriously alarmed Mr. 
 Foster. He attempted to explain the motives 
 of his resolve, but Mrs. Foster only answered: 
 "It's your own money, I suppose. You can do 
 what you like with it. You had better go away 
 now; I want to give orders about Edward's 
 dinner. He won't come down this evening; he 
 is not well. I shan't either; I'm not well, and 
 Flossie will dine with me. She's not well." 
 
 And the moment Mr. Foster was gone Mrs. 
 Foster rang the bell and told her maid to tell 
 her ladyship's own maid that if Miss Jenkins 
 was at liberty, she would come and see Miss 
 Jenkins in the housekeeper's room. And she 
 followed so hard on the heels of her own maid, 
 that she was in Miss Jenkins' room before the 
 servant had got the words out of her mouth. 
 She said, with the remains of the dignity that 
 she had been bestowing upon her husband: 
 
236 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "I'll trouble you, Miss Jenkins, to arrange 
 that I have another room, and that my things 
 are removed from mine to-morrow morning." 
 And then, the servant being gone from the 
 room, she said: "I really can't help it. Miss Jen- 
 kins; either that v^onian goes, or I do." And 
 she burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 Miss Jenkins settled her dov^n into her arm- 
 chair before the fire. She produced a small 
 green phial that contained sedative drops; she 
 dropped six of these on to a lump of sugar and 
 she put the lump of sugar in Mrs. Foster's 
 mouth. 
 
 "You will feel better in three minutes," she 
 said; "and during those three minutes you had 
 better just cry, ma'am." 
 
 The room was small and square and comfort- 
 able, and Mrs. Foster cried on, letting her tears 
 fall on the fender. Miss Jenkins stood calm 
 and erect on the other side of the table that 
 had a red baize covering. She looked down at 
 her fingers and reflected. 
 
 "Of course, ma'am," she said at last, "if you 
 really wanted Miss Peabody ejected from this 
 household, I can do it for you!" 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked up from the fireplace. 
 
 "If I want it!" she exclaimed. "I want 
 nothing else; nothing else in the world. That 
 
RING FOR NANCY 237 
 
 woman is the ruin of all our lives, and if I spoke 
 discourteously to her in the court, which I 
 couldn't help, being carried out of myself by 
 anxiety for Flossie — for I said to her, meaning 
 Miss Peabody, that I loved Miss Delamare's 
 little finger better than the whole of Miss Pea- 
 body's body — though it would be more proper 
 to say that I hate the whole of Miss Peabody's 
 body and soul and mind and machinations, for 
 she's plotting and plotting and plotting — and so 
 did the major love Flossie better, though I'm 
 not saying that he's in love with her, and so 
 would anybody who had a feeling heart in his 
 or her breast. 
 
 "And now she's plotted and plotted until she's 
 got Mr. Foster to desert Flossie Delamare — 
 and I'm sure if I wasn't afraid the major 
 would need my money, I'd set Miss Dela- 
 mare up in a theater myself. And I'm sure 
 of this, too, that unless Mr. Foster changes 
 his mind in the night without any words spoken 
 by me, I will never sleep in the same room with 
 him again, for he's so weak and so easily influ- 
 enced, that I'm tired of him and done with him; 
 ^and that's the last word I mean to say about 
 this for fear of boring you. Miss Jenkins; but 
 this isn't the last word I'm going to think, and 
 the thoughts come bubbling up in me like the 
 
238 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 water of a plum-pudding that I used to watcH 
 boiling when I was in my father's house. For 
 the admiral he was a man, though a rampant 
 roaring man and the major is my own boy, and 
 I'd go to the bad for him; but as for Mr. Fos- 
 ter . . ." — Mrs. Foster suddenly closed her lips 
 tight — "well, I can't think of what to say about 
 Mr. Foster, and it wouldn't beseem me to say 
 it if I could think of it." 
 
 Miss Jenkins remained reflecting for quite a 
 long time. At last she said: 
 
 "Of course, I'm willing to attempt to eject 
 the lady; and if you give me a free hand I'm 
 perfectly willing to try to do it, and do it I think 
 I can. I should prefer it just to come about, 
 for, if there's any kind of decency in things, it 
 would come about. But there doesn't seem to 
 be — any kind of decency in things. I should 
 have thought that when those charges were 
 made against the major Miss Peabody, consid- 
 ering her nature, would have thrown the major 
 over. But that doesn't seem to be her nature. 
 On the contrary, it's acted in the other way. 
 So that if you ask me, I will do what I can, 
 though it appears to me to be a discreditable 
 action, and that's all there is to it." 
 
 Mrs. Foster suddenly stood up. "A discredit- 
 able action?" she asked. "Did you ever hear of 
 
RING FOR NANCY 239 
 
 Saint George? — the gentleman who rescued a 
 naked princess from a dragon. And did you 
 ever hear that that was a discreditable action? — 
 though I can't say that the major is anything 
 like a naked princess, and neither am I for the 
 matter of that. But if you could rescue us from 
 this dragon — two of us . . ." and Mrs. Foster 
 broke off, to begin again with extraordinary 
 vigor: ''Discreditable! why she's the ruin . . . 
 why she's the end . . ." and Mrs. Foster broke 
 off again and remarked: "But I'm boring you." 
 
 Miss Jenkins still remained standing perfectly 
 
 ill, looking downward and reflecting. 
 
 "It seems to me, ma'am," she said at last, 
 
 'that if you are going to separate from Mr. 
 
 'oster, it would be more proper and seemly 
 
 |lhat he should be moved away from your room 
 
 |than you. And if you agree to that, that's what 
 
 I'll do to-morrow morning." 
 
 "I dare say you're right. Miss Jenkins," Mrs. 
 Foster said. "You put us all right in every- 
 thing. But that's not the important point. The 
 important point is, what are you going to do 
 about the other thing?" 
 
 "I don't think I can tell you about that, 
 ma'am," Miss Jenkins answered. 
 

PART III 
 
TiyrR. ARTHUR FOSTER had a thoroughly^ 
 ^^^ uncomfortable dinner with Miss Peabod}^ 
 and Mrs. Kerr Howe. Miss Peabody was ex- 
 ceedingly nervous; Mr. Foster was thoroughly 
 fidgety; and Mrs. Kerr Howe talked inces- 
 santly, and with a hard insistence, about the 
 reform of conventional marriage and her new 
 play, which she had almost persuaded Miss 
 Delamare to promise to stage at the reformed 
 theater. This made Mr. Foster extremely un- 
 comfortable, for he could not help remembering 
 at every word of Mrs. Kerr Howe, that he 
 had promised to suppress the reformed theater. 
 Miss Peabody, on the other hand, was pleased. 
 She thought it really splendid that Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe should prove by her conversation, which 
 could only be regarded as immoral in the ex- 
 treme, that a reformed theater conducted by a 
 person like Miss Flossie Delamare would be an 
 exceedingly undesirable thing, not only for the 
 morals of the country, but also for Mr. Foster^s 
 own social advancement. 
 
 She wanted, indeed, to explain this to Mr. 
 243 
 
244 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Foster after dinner. She meant to tell him that 
 merely turning out Miss Delamare need not 
 necessarily suppress the theater altogether. She 
 herself, she wanted to say, was perfectly ready 
 and able to run the theater. Of course, she was 
 not capable of acting herself, but with the lit- 
 erary education that she had received in Bos- 
 ton, which is the acknowledged metropolis of 
 learning for the world, she would be perfectly 
 able to select the plays which were to be pro- 
 duced, and to engage actresses of serious and 
 not merely frivolous gifts. She was anxious, 
 moreover, to insist that Mr. Foster should en- 
 force his authority and have Miss Delamare 
 ejected from the house next day. She wanted 
 to say that Flossie was leading the major 
 astray. She was absolutely certain of this. She 
 thought she had surprised glances between the 
 major and Miss Delamare in the court. 
 
 But she did not get any conversation with 
 Mr. Foster. He was fidgetingly anxious for 
 some conversation with his wife, and when Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe said that she was going to get her 
 play and read them the second act, he took the 
 opportunity of going up-stairs to his wife's bed- 
 room. Miss Peabody, also, went to her own 
 room; so that when Mrs. Kerr Howe returned 
 to the drawing-room she found no audience at 
 
RING FOR NANCY 245 
 
 all for her play, and she spent the rest of the 
 evening playing the music of Pigs is Pigs in 
 solitude among ghostly men in armor. 
 
 Mr. Foster did not find his wife in her bed- 
 room. And when he asked her maid, he was 
 told that Mrs. Foster was with the major. He 
 went there himself, and there he found the 
 major in his dressing-gown lying in the long 
 armchair before the fire. He had a green 
 shade over his eyes, and Mrs. Foster and Miss 
 Delamare were also there. Mrs. Foster was 
 knitting Berlin wool; Miss Delamare was mak- 
 ing up a ball from a skein that the major held 
 over his two hands, and they were all laughing 
 at the tops of their voices, because Miss Dela- 
 mare was giving them an exact imitation of the 
 mannerisms of all the three justices, of the 
 policemen, of Mr. Broadrib and Sir Arthur 
 Johnson. Just as Mr. Foster came into the 
 room, she was erecting her head, frowning tre- 
 mendously and exclaiming: "Infamous!" 
 
 The pleasant family tone of the room affected 
 Mr. Foster with a sort of homesickness. He 
 asked to be permitted to sit down, and no one 
 forbade it. And then he informed his nephew 
 that he intended to write to The Times to de- 
 nounce the Lord Chancellor's new experiments 
 in justices of the peace. The major thanked 
 
246 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 his uncle, and begged him not to take so much 
 trouble; but Mr. Foster said it was his duty as 
 the sturdy Nonconformist Unionist that he was. 
 Mrs. Foster just sat and knitted, but there was 
 in her eyes an expression so nearly resembling 
 the steely and the ironical, that Mr. Foster's 
 nervousness increased. And then once again, 
 Flossie, who was the most good-natured little 
 soul alive, and who perceived that there was in 
 the air a decided strain, began a new series of 
 imitations of the trial. But Mr. Foster observed 
 that, although his wife laughed till the tears 
 c^me when Miss Delamare said: "Have you 
 anything to say why sentence should not be 
 passed upon you?" Mrs. Foster became steely 
 and cold in expression whenever he raised his 
 own voice. And after an hour and a half of it 
 he really could not stand it any longer. He 
 said: ^ 
 
 "My dear, I should be really glad of a word 
 with you." 
 
 Mrs. Foster rose in an extraordinarily stiff 
 manner and followed him out of the room. He 
 led her into the next bedroom, turned up the 
 light and closed the door. 
 
 "My dear," he began at once in a hurried and 
 flustered voice, "I want you to understand that 
 I am perfectly reasonable in the step I propose 
 
RING FOR NANCY 247 
 
 to take. Putting aside the facts of Flossie's 
 past history, I have just been listening to the 
 plot of a play by Mrs. Kerr Howe . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Foster interrupted him suddenly and 
 disconcertingly: "If you can find it in your 
 heart to say anything against that little creature 
 who's sitting in there with my Edward . . ." 
 
 "I wasn't saying anything at all against her," 
 Mr. Foster exclaimed: *'but this play of Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe's that she has promised to put 
 on . . ." 
 
 "She hasn't promised to put on any play by 
 Airs. Kerr Howe at all," Mrs. Foster said. "She 
 hasn't promised, and she isn't going to." 
 
 "But it's a terrible play," Mr. Foster re- 
 marked. 
 
 "It's no good talking, Arthur," his wife 
 answered, "and I'm not going to talk:. If your 
 own heart doesn't tell you what's right and 
 proper, you're not the man I took you for, and 
 there's an end of it. I won't hear another 
 word." 
 
 "But consider the whole of the circum- 
 stances," Mr. Foster said. "Consider that we 
 could not possibly have Miss Delamare in the 
 house when Edward is married to Olympia. 
 Consider all the trouble it would make. Con- 
 sider the scandal it would cause if Olympia ob- 
 
248 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 jected. Surely, surely, we've got to consider 
 that splendid and gifted woman before the pri- 
 vate wishes of any other member of the house- 
 hold. You haven't got anything to say against 
 that, have you?" He paused for some reply 
 from his wife, but there came none. 
 
 There was beginning a babble of voices from 
 the corridor. 
 
 "That appears to me to be the first thing to be 
 considered," Mr. Foster repeated. "Surely you 
 will not deny that!" 
 
 "That first thing that seems to me to be con- 
 sidered," Mrs. Foster said maliciously, "is that, 
 by your silliness, Flossie and Edward have been 
 left alone in his bedroom, and that your fine 
 madam has discovered them there. You can 
 hear her pretty voice . . ." 
 
 And there was no mistaking the fact that the 
 raised tones of Miss Peabody were coming from 
 somewhere at no great distance. 
 
 They went side by side into the next room. 
 
 "This is the end," Miss Peabody was exclaim- 
 ing tragically, in the closing words of a long 
 invocation. 
 
 She turned upon Mr. Foster. 
 
 "Here," she exclaimed, "you have ocular 
 proof of the abandoned nature of this young 
 person. Is it conceivable that any other mem- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 249 
 
 ber of her sex would be found in these circum- 
 stances?" There was such fire in her voice and 
 gestures that Mr. Foster was really sHghtly 
 alarmed. 
 
 ''God bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Not 
 in each other's arms!" 
 
 "And why shouldn't they be?" Mrs. Foster 
 asked, with an alarming sharpness. It was so 
 alarming that Mr. Foster blurted out: 
 
 "Of course, it would not be a proof of guil — 
 of guilty . . ." 
 
 And then Miss Peabody exclaimed, "Silence!" 
 with such vigor that they were all quiet. "They 
 were not in each other's arms," she continued. 
 "Why should they be? I am not complaining 
 of Edward. I trust him implicity. But it is 
 this abandoned and shameless woman whom I 
 find here that I denounce. I accuse her of 
 creeping after my fiance on every occasion; 
 of using devices to attract his affection. I 
 accuse her . . ." 
 
 "Really, Olympia," the major began, but she 
 took no notice; and for a minute they were 
 talking together. Miss Peabody's voice came 
 out triumphant. 
 
 "A woman who is capable of putting herself 
 into such a situation . . ." 
 
 "Of course, my dear lady," Mr, Foster said. 
 
250 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "it is very shocking. But still there are . . . 
 there are extenuating circumstances . . ." 
 
 Miss Peabody said, "What are they?" with 
 such violence that Mr. Foster forgot completely 
 all that he had meant to say. And she con- 
 tinued triumphantly: "A woman who will come 
 to a man's rooms . . ." 
 
 And then Miss Delamare stood up. 
 
 "Don't you forget," she remarked good- 
 humoredly, "that I am not the only pebble on 
 the beach. You're making such a ridiculous ex- 
 hibition of yourself, that you do not deserve 
 any sympathy; but still — ^just remember that 
 for a minute." 
 
 Miss Peabody exclaimed, "Mr. Foster!" in 
 tones so tragic that Mr. Foster started toward 
 her side. 
 
 "Now we've had enough of this," Mrs. Foster 
 remarked, and at the same moment Miss Pea- 
 body said: 
 
 "We've had more than enough of this," and 
 she looked fixedly at Mr. Foster to remark: 
 "Either Miss Delamare leaves this house, or 
 I do." 
 
 And like an echo Mrs. Foster said: "Either 
 Miss Delamare stays here, or I go." 
 
 Miss Peabody really started. 
 
 "Either Miss Delamare stays in this house," 
 
RING FOR NANCY 251 
 
 Mrs. Foster repeated categorically, "or I go 
 out of it, I hope you understand me." 
 
 Mr. Foster stuttered: "What? What? W^hat?" 
 "Yes, what, what, what," Mrs. Foster said 
 hysterically. "For a long time Miss Delamare 
 has been more than a daughter to me. I've 
 never known what it was to have a child, or any 
 comfort; and now I know it, and I'm not going 
 to give it up. I've had the dear and precious 
 luxury of having my Edward, but that's going 
 to be only for a week or two. He's going to be 
 taken from me by a woman whom I can never 
 like. And I am not going back to my loneliness 
 again. So that it's come to this . . ." And 
 Mrs. Foster looked round her with an expres- 
 sion of courageous terror. "Now here, with all 
 of you to witness, I adopt Miss Delamare for 
 my own child. So long as she stays where I 
 am she is my own dear daughter. And if she is 
 driven out of it I go with her. And I will be 
 her chaperon and wait for l;er outside the 
 theater, or whatever it is her paid chaperon 
 does, if she'll have me, until world without 
 end." 
 
 For a moment Miss Peabody gazed round her 
 in what might have been called a baleful man- 
 ner. Then she swallowed a disagreeable lump 
 in her throat. She had got hold of the situa- 
 
252 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 tion so thoroughly that, although this announce- 
 ment entirely changed the situation, it did not 
 take her more time than that moment of swal- 
 lowing to know pretty well where she stood. 
 She knew, for instance, that although she had 
 Mr. Foster very much under her thumb, she had 
 not got him sufficiently there to make him con- 
 template with equanimity the prospect of a 
 definite breach with Mrs. Foster. She could 
 See that that elderly gentleman was exceedingly 
 "on the jump," as nervous as a man well could 
 be; and she knew that she would have to do 
 something to calm matters down. She was still 
 determined to eject Miss Delamare from the re- 
 formed theater scheme, and she thought she 
 could always influence Mr. Foster sufficiently 
 for that by just forcing it perpetually on his 
 attention that no one would take Miss Delamare 
 seriously enough, if she were left as the acting 
 manageress of the theater — aeriously enough to 
 make the theater any good for Mr. Foster's 
 social advancement. 
 
 She knew that there she was on pretty safe 
 ground, whereas when it came to attacking 
 Miss Delamare's moral character, although 
 she was perfectly certain that Miss Delamare 
 was an infamous woman, she realized that 
 she had not got anything to go upon. She 
 
1^ 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 253 
 
 had never heard a single word against Flossie. 
 But Flossie could not be taken very seriously, 
 and a theater that Flossie ran certainly could 
 not be taken seriously enough to get Mr. Fos- 
 ter a knighthood as a national benefactor. 
 She remained perfectly determined to oust 
 Flossie Delamare from that family; but she 
 saw that she had been too precipitate. She 
 would just have to wait till she was safely mar- 
 ried to the major. She had time enough in 
 that one action of swallowing to feel what you 
 might call all the elements in that situation, 
 although she certainly did not have time to put 
 them into thoughts. And she just said: 
 
 "Of course, that entirely alters matters alto- 
 gether. Of course, if Mrs. Foster has adopted 
 Miss Delamare, it makes Miss Delamare in a 
 sort of a way almost Edward's sister. So that 
 I can see that various little tokens of affection 
 from Flossie — if I might call her Flossie . . ." 
 "I think you had better call me Florence," 
 iss Delamare said. "That's my name." 
 ". . . any little evidences of affection that 
 Florence may have shown Edward are, of 
 course, upon an entirely different basis." 
 "Of course, of course," Mr. Foster said. 
 "And that being so," Miss Peabody con- 
 tinued, "there doesn't seem to me to be any- 
 
254 • RING FOR NANCY 
 
 thing left for me but to congratulate Florence 
 on the news that I have just heard, and to hope 
 that everything will be very pleasant in the 
 future." 
 
 "So that that's all right, that's all right," Mr. 
 Foster remarked. 
 
 "Things have got to be much more pleasant 
 in the future," Mrs. Foster said hardly. 
 "They've just got to be. I'm not going to have 
 my Edward worried any more. I don't like to 
 see him sitting about here with a green shade 
 over his eyes. I'm going to take him up to 
 town to-morrow in the motor, myself, to see a 
 specialist. I want to hear what's said, and 
 what's to be done for him. I know that excite- 
 ment and trouble and all these things are bad 
 for his eyes, and there's an end of it." 
 
 For a moment Miss Peabody thought of say- 
 ing that, in that case, she ought to be allowed 
 to be of the party; but she suddenly remem- 
 bered that that would leave Mr. Foster open to 
 the advances of Miss Delamare, and she said 
 instead: "That would be an immense relief to 
 my mind." 
 
 "Well," the major remarked from under his 
 green shade, "you have had the most terrific and 
 edifying scrap over my poor body, and I hope 
 you are admiring the pretty way in which I laid 
 
¥ 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 255 
 
 still and didn't poke my nose into it. And now 
 that it's all settled — and it's thankful I am that 
 it's all settled without my having to make any 
 exertions — for usually it's me who has to take 
 command of all these situations ..." 
 
 "Oh, but, Teddy," Miss Delamare suddenly 
 interrupted him, "it isn't all settled; it isn't 
 really quite altogether settled. I guess I want 
 an apology — an exact, and what you would call 
 a specific, apology from Miss Peabody." 
 
 Olympia exclaimed: "But good gracious, I've 
 apologized and withdrawn everything." 
 
 "Oh, it isn't for me," Flossie said amiably. "I 
 have a public character, and I guess I can stand 
 all the shot that's ever shot against me without 
 the hair of one of my wigs, whether it's auburn 
 or black, standing up on end. No, it isn't for 
 me I want the apology, but it's for Mrs. Fos- 
 ter." 
 
 "But," Mr. Foster exclaimed, "nobody has 
 insulted Mrs. Foster." 
 
 "Well, if you can't see it," Miss Delamare 
 said, "I can. Miss Peabody has accused Mrs. 
 Foster of throwing in the major's way the sort 
 of woman — well, the sort of woman that you 
 couldn't leave alone with him . . ." 
 
 "Oh, come, Flossie, dear," the major said; 
 "there's quite enough of all this." 
 
256 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "No, there isn't," Miss Delamare answered. 
 "If Mrs. Foster's going to be my mother, I'm 
 going to stand up for my mother, and things 
 have got to be perfectly good and straight." 
 
 Miss Peabody had started with rage when 
 she heard the major say "Flossie, dear." She 
 had sufficient sense to see that she was up 
 against it — right absolutely up against it. She 
 would have to apologize to Mrs. Foster at the 
 demand of Flossie Delamare, and that was the 
 bitterest proposition that had ever been put to 
 her in her life. In some odd way it increased 
 her hatred for Miss Delamare a thousandfold. 
 She felt almost that, supposing a knife had been 
 handy, she could have plunged it into Miss Dela- 
 mare's throat. 
 
 But when Mrs. Foster exclaimed, "I certainly 
 think that some sort of apology ought to be 
 made to me," Miss Peabody said from a dry 
 throat: 
 
 "Of course, I had no idea of insulting any- 
 body; and it stands to reason that if I have done 
 so I take it all back. I simply did not know 
 what the circumstances were." 
 
 "Well, then, that's handsome," Miss Dela- 
 mare said; "and just to let you know exactly 
 what the circumstances are — and I'm sure it 
 ought to put your troubled mind at rest — I will 
 
RING FOR NANCY 257 
 
 just tell you that I love Teddy here just as 
 much as it's possible to love anybody in the 
 world. And how couldn't I! For when I come 
 to think of what I might have been, if it had 
 not been for Teddy picking me up and putting 
 me on my feet at a time when, as he says, I was 
 a half-starved little rat — I just shudder to think 
 about it. So I just love Teddy w^ith the deepest 
 gratitude you could possibly get out of a half- 
 starved rat; but if you think, Olympia, that I'd 
 go poaching on your, or any other woman's, 
 preserves — why, you're a much sillier fool than 
 I ever took you for, and you appear to me to 
 be pretty foolish at times.'* 
 
 "Oh, I quite believe you," Miss Peabody said. 
 And the odd thing was, that she did perfectly 
 believe Miss Delamare and that she hated her — 
 in spite of that belief — so that she really felt 
 that she was going to faint. She said to Mr. 
 Foster: "If you will just give me that paper of 
 statistics — the blue one, A32 — I shall go to my 
 room and study them." 
 
 With a frightened glance at his wife — a sort 
 of agonized appeal to her — Mr. Foster went out 
 of the room. This did not please Mrs. Foster. 
 
II 
 
 T^ISS PEABODY managed to fix up her 
 ^^^ own particular side of the matter pretty 
 well before the unfortunate Mr. Foster got 
 to bed that night. She really had begun to 
 make him see that Miss Delamare was not the 
 person to run a serious theater. She had the 
 sense to repeat in private what she had said, as 
 it were, in public, before the others. She with- 
 drew in the frankest and most unlimited way 
 anything that she had ever said against Flossie's 
 moral character. But she pointed out with 
 great insistence that a lady whose highest idea 
 of praise was to be called the "symphonic em- 
 bodiment of quaint imbecility" was not obvious- 
 ly the person to manage a theater that should 
 stand for great and serious moral truths. Mr. 
 Foster took his stand upon the words "sym- 
 phonic embodiment." These seemed to him to 
 be words matchless and remarkable. He did 
 not exactly know what they meant, but they 
 appeared to him to be very strengthening. But 
 Miss Peabody hammered in the other two words 
 "quaint imbecility." She said that there could 
 
 258 
 
RING FOR NANCY 259 
 
 not possibly be any mistake as to what those 
 words meant, and they certainly did not mean 
 anything that had anything at all to do with a 
 high and serious moral purpose. • 
 
 And the unfortunate old gentleman knew so 
 absolutely nothing about the theater or about 
 the drama, that Miss Peabody spent an hour 
 and a half in trying to instruct him as to the 
 literary point of view of Boston, which is the 
 center of the serious world. She committed 
 herself so far as to say that Flossie was a dear 
 little thing. She had to get the words out 
 though they nearly choked her; but what, she 
 asked, had a dear little thing to do with the 
 high region of starlit thought that was sym- 
 bolized by such great names as Emerson, Long- 
 fellow, Henry Ward Beecher and Nathaniel 
 Hawthorne — not to mention Walt Whitman, 
 and Henrik Ibsen who didn't come from Bos- 
 ton? She pointed out delicately that although 
 Mrs. Foster was the most amiable person in the 
 world, she was not a lady of whose intellectual 
 opinions Mr. Foster himself had a very high 
 view. And she pointed out, too, that from the 
 beginning to the end of this theater scheme, 
 Mr. Foster must really have been actuated by 
 his wife's affection for dear little Flossie; and 
 she sfot him to see at last that that was not a 
 
260 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 very rational position, and she got him at last to 
 be exceedingly afraid that he would become the 
 laughing-stock of all the serious people who 
 read Emerson and Thoreau and Walt Whitman, 
 and all the other serious American, Noncon- 
 formist and Puritan writers. And she made 
 him understand that the people in high places 
 who could confer titles read nothing else but 
 the works of these transatlantic moralists. Ab- 
 solutely nothing else. 
 
 It was the greatest triumph of Miss Pea- 
 body's career. For, before she let Mr. Foster go 
 to bed, she had extracted from him a promise — 
 in his interests, in hers, in Mrs. Foster's, in the 
 major's, and even in dear little Flossie's own 
 interests — that he would absolutely suspend any 
 decision about the theater — at any rate for a 
 day or two — until Miss Peabody had had an 
 opportunity of talking to all the parties con- 
 cerned. She was convinced that she would be 
 able to make it clear even to Flossie that it 
 could only do her harm to attempt to run a 
 theater in such a way as to be the laughing- 
 stock of all admirers of Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 or even of Mr. Bernard Shaw, though she could 
 not be quite certain that Mr. Shaw was always 
 serious. 
 
 The praise that she had been forced to bestow 
 Upon Miss Delamare made Miss Peabody feel 
 
RING FOR NANCY 261 
 
 actually ill. Each time that she called Flossie a 
 dear little thing — and she did it half a dozen 
 times in the course of the evening — her hatred 
 mounted and mounted. And nothing would 
 have prevented her going up to Flossie's bed- 
 room, and giving her the piece of her mind, 
 which she certainly intended to do, save that she 
 really felt herself too shaky to do herself jus- 
 tice. 
 
 Mr. Foster went rather tremblingly up to 
 bed. Mrs. Foster was lying with her head side- 
 wise on the pillow and her eyes open. And at 
 first Mr. Foster really intended to do his un- 
 dressing and to get into bed without saying a 
 word, as indeed was his general practise. But 
 while he was loosening his braces he suddenly 
 brought out the words: 
 
 **IVe decided to suspend my judgment about 
 the theater.*' 
 
 Mrs. Foster, without moving, asked: "That's 
 all, then?" 
 
 "Well, my dear," Mr. Foster began to pro- 
 test, "you can hardly expect more than that. 
 There are an immense number of reasons . . ." 
 
 "I don't want to listen to any reasons," Mrs, 
 Foster said. "I want to go to sleep. Your 
 money's your own, and your risks are your 
 own; and that's all there is to say about it." 
 
 And Mr. Foster decided to leave it at that. 
 
Ill 
 
 A^ASTING about in her mind for something 
 ^^ that would aid her cause, Miss Peabody, 
 in the early morning, hit upon the idea that 
 if she used a little skill, she might be able 
 to make very effective use of her ladyship's 
 own maid. She reflected that servants were 
 usually venial, untruthful and immoral, and she 
 imagined that she might be able to use these 
 qualities in the excellent work of ridding that 
 household at least of Miss Delamare. She 
 began to foresee that she might even rid it of 
 Mrs. Foster herself, though that was a very 
 great flight. Accordingly, after the major and 
 his aunt had set off in the motor for London, 
 she rang her bedroom bell and told her maid to 
 tell her ladyship's own maid that she would 
 be obliged by an interview. Before, however, 
 she let her own servant go, she inquired as to 
 the habits and customs of Miss Jenkins. 
 
 What she learned was mostly that, in the 
 opinion of her own maid, her ladyship's own 
 maid could scarcely be considered a servant. 
 She was more like a land-stewardess; the other 
 
 262 
 
RING FOR NANCY 263 
 
 servants hardly ever saw her. She lived in a 
 housekeepers room of her own. At first she had 
 been waited on by Mr. Foster's servants, but 
 yesterday she had imported an own maid of 
 her own from the county town, and she Hved 
 more sechided than ever. Miss Peabody's maid 
 informed her that there was nothing very un- 
 usual in all this, though her ladyship's own 
 maid carried haughtiness rather further than 
 most, treating even Saunders, Mr. Foster's 
 butler, at a great distance, though most 
 politely. Miss Peabody's maid knew nothing 
 to speak of about a policeman. She had — 
 like all the other servants — seen Miss Jenkins 
 talking to a policeman. But they had all 
 wanted to talk to the policemen, and there 
 was nothing to be said against Miss Jenkins' 
 talking to him first. She had the right, con- 
 sidering her position, and the officer had 
 touched his cap to her most civilly and re- 
 spectfully. 
 
 And when Miss Peabody had said that all 
 this seemed a little strange, the servant had 
 answered: 
 
 "Oh, dear me, no, miss," and she added: 
 "Not at all strange, miss, that, in these Radical 
 times with heaven knows who, and foreigners, 
 and all that, ladies like her ladyship's own 
 
264 RING FOR NANCY j 
 
 maid should be wishful to keep themselves 
 select." 
 
 So that Miss Peabody thought it would be 
 better to leave it at that. She realized that 
 her task was more formidable than she had 
 supposed, and it was with a certain nervous- 
 ness that she thanked Miss Jenkins for coming 
 to her with great promptitude. And she added 
 at once: j 
 
 "I quite understand. Miss Jenkins, that it 
 would be useless for me to offer you any — any 
 pecuniary reward, but I want to ask you, as 
 from one woman to another, whether you did 
 not think that the present position of affairs 
 is very odd." 
 
 And it relieved her immensely when Miss 
 Jenkins answered: "Extremely odd, miss." 
 
 And then Miss Peabody imagined that Miss 
 Jenkins might not understand her, and she 
 thought to make her position quite plain by 
 adding: "I mean this affair of Mrs. Foster's . 
 .adopting Miss Delamare." \ 
 
 Miss Jenkins answered: "I perfectly under- 
 stand, miss." 
 
 "So that you won't find it strange," Miss 
 Peabody continued, "if I have asked you to 
 give me your own views of it all." 
 
 "It's flattering, miss, if I may say so," her 
 
RING FOR NANCY 265 
 
 ladyship's own maid commented. "But as to 
 views . . ." 
 
 "Oh," Miss Peabody said airily, "I thought 
 you might have some little information to give 
 me about . . . well, about just anything. Tri- 
 fles, you know . . /' 
 
 "Information!" Miss Jenkins repeated. 
 
 "They say, you know," Miss Peabody said, 
 "that servants — let us say onlookers — know 
 more of us than we know ourselves. And you 
 might know something about Miss Delamare — 
 just as by accident I happen to have observed 
 the little incident of yourself and the police- 
 man . . ." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said: "The policeman?" And 
 then she added: "Oh!" 
 
 And Miss Peabody had not the slightest 
 doubt that the small start which Miss Jenkins 
 gave was indicative at least of a perturbed and 
 probably of a guilty conscience. She continued 
 therefore: "Of course, I don't attach any im- 
 portance to such a little thing, but still . . . you 
 understand ... if it was only that it might be 
 regarded as a mesalliance . . ." And then Miss 
 Peabody paused, for she felt she was upon 
 dangerous ground; but she continued at last: 
 "So that if you had observed any little things 
 ^ — trifles — in the behavior of Miss Del . . ." 
 
266 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "I don't think I have observed anything, 
 miss," her ladyship's own maid rephed; "not 
 anything that one could really mention . . ." 
 
 "But I think you might as well mention it," 
 Miss Peabody said. 
 
 Miss Jenkins answered: "Oh, no, miss. 
 They're not things that one really could men- 
 tion. I'm certainly not going to mention 
 them." And Miss Jenkins' Hps closed under 
 Miss Peabody's eyes so firmly, that Miss Pea- 
 body was convinced that she certainly did not 
 mean to impart any of the unmentionable things 
 that Miss Peabody imagined her to have seen. 
 And Miss Peabody had to reflect for a minute. 
 Then she gave up the idea of trying to coerce 
 her ladyship's own maid. It simply was not, 
 she could plainly see, to be done. It would be 
 much better to seek to make a friend of her. ' 
 She therefore made the following reasoned and 
 subduedly passionate appeal to the feelings of 
 her ladyship's own maid. a 
 
 "You will have seen," she said, "and, indeed, 1 
 you acknowledge that you have seen, what is 
 going on in this house. You perceive that a 
 young lady — without doubt a charming young 
 lady, but still a young lady — has obtained such 
 a hold over the mistress of the house, that the 
 entire establishment is in danger of misery and 
 
RING FOR NANCY W 
 
 may very well be in danger of ruin. I don't 
 know if you know the exact circumstances. This 
 young lady, by means which I won't specify, 
 has obtained from Mr. Foster an absolute prom- 
 ise, not only to start a theater for her, but to 
 run it for a considerable period of time. Mr. 
 Foster is, of course, an exceedingly wealthy 
 man; he runs a hundred and fifty bakers' shops. 
 But you probably know as well as I do that the 
 expenses of a theater are enormous, and that 
 the profits of a hundred and fifty bakers' shops 
 may be very well eaten up by the expenses of 
 less than one theater. Putting the matter on 
 this basis, this young lady is therefore a very^ 
 dangerous — well, let me say adventuress." 
 
 "I quite follow you, miss," her ladyship's 
 own maid said. 
 
 "And not only that," Miss Peabody con- 
 tinued, "but this person threatens to destroy 
 the peace of the family that until she came into 
 it was exceedingly united. I don't think it can 
 be denied that her influence upon this family is 
 a very unhealthy one. She has obtained over 
 Mrs. Foster an influence which can only be sig- 
 nalized by that one word 'unhealthy,' and al- 
 though I have no wish to suggest anything 
 against the major, her influence over him is 
 bound to be unhealthy in the long run. Simi- 
 
268 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 larly it is not healthy for Mr. Foster — an elderly 
 and impressionable gentleman — to be closeted 
 for long hours with a young and attractive 
 woman. As for Mrs. Foster, her attachment to 
 this person partakes of the nature of an imbecile 
 obsession; for it is absolutely unnatural that an 
 old woman with no particular brains, provided 
 with a most excellent husband, an attached 
 nephew and a prospective niece-in-law who is 
 ready to treat her with all the kindness that she 
 deserves — it is unthinkable that if the old lady 
 were sane and healthy, she should find it neces- 
 sary to adopt a casual stranger off the streets. 
 I suppose you understand what I mean?'* 
 
 "Well, I can hear what you are saying, miss," 
 Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 "Now I am sure," Miss Peabody continued, 
 "that you have the proper feelings that do 
 credit to our common womanhood, and I am 
 sure that you will do all that you can to put 
 an end to this state of things." 
 
 "Fm sure Fm quite ready to, miss," Miss 
 Jenkins said, "but . . ." 
 
 "But!" Miss Peabody ejaculated almost in- 
 credulously. "Can there be any doubt about 
 it? Can you have any hesitation about helping 
 to put an end to a state of things that is lament- 
 able and disgraceful to a family in which you 
 
RING FOR NANCY 269 
 
 are bound to take some interest? Of course, I 
 am aware that you may say you are in this 
 house only in the interests of Lady Savylle. 
 But I think I can take upon myself to say in 
 your mistress's name that her ladyship would 
 entirely approve of your attempt to break down 
 this infamous position." 
 
 "Oh, I have no doubt her ladyship would 
 approve,^ Miss Jenkins said slowly. "The only 
 thing is, do you feel perfectly certain that things 
 will turn out exactly as you wish?" 
 
 "I haven't the least doubt of it," Miss Pea- 
 body said. "Only give me a hold over this in- 
 famous woman, and the old state of peace will 
 descend upon this family." 
 
 "I don't know, miss," her ladyship's own 
 maid said; "I think I know more about family 
 quarrels than probably you do, and it will aston- 
 ish you how people split up and fly apart." 
 
 "My good girl," Miss Peabody said sharply, 
 "I am probably ten or fifteen years older than 
 you, and I think I may be said to know tKe 
 world quite well enough to be able to manage 
 my own affairs." 
 
 "Of course, that's as it may be," Miss Jenkins 
 was beginning, when Miss Peabody broke in 
 upon her speech. 
 
 "Do you mean to say," she exclaimed, — "but. 
 
270 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 of course, you wouldn't dare to insinuate — that 
 Major Edward will not fulfil his duty to me?" 
 
 "Oh, no, miss," her ladyship's own maid 
 answered. "That's the one thing in the situa- 
 tion that can be regarded as perfectly certain — ^ 
 that Major Foster will stick to his duty." 
 
 "Then," Miss Peabody exclaimed triumphant- 
 ly, "what do you propose to imagine can happen 
 to mef You don't suppose that it's my inten- 
 tion again to accuse Miss Delamare of indiscre- 
 tions before other people? That, I acknowl- 
 edge, was a great mistake on my part, but I 
 was carried away by my legitimate indignation. 
 What I wish to do is to obtain a private hold 
 over Miss Delamare." 
 
 Miss Jenkins said, "Oh!" and Miss Peabody 
 asked her sharply what she meant. 
 
 "I only mean, miss," her ladyship's own 
 maid said, "that that seems the proper — well, 
 let us say the most effective course you can 
 pursue." 
 
 "I'm glad you see that/' Miss Peabody said. 
 
 "But it won't be so very easy," Miss Jenkins 
 answered. 
 
 "I have got an absolute trust in you," Miss 
 Peabody retorted. "Of course, I expect you to 
 do it for me." 
 
 "I don't think you can quite expect me to do 
 that, miss," her ladyship's own maid said. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 271 
 
 "But you're acquainted with all the winding 
 staircases and secret doors of this old house in 
 a way no one else here can approach/* Miss 
 Peabody answered. "And you do listen at 
 doors. We know from the other night that 
 you do listen at doors." 
 
 "But I only listen at doors, miss," her lady- 
 ship's own maid said, "when it seems likely 
 that there will be a misunderstanding that I can 
 smooth out. It's my duty to look after the 
 reputation of her ladyship's house; and," she 
 continued, "I don't think it's for me to take up 
 the business of a spy, and I should strongly ad- 
 vise you, miss, not to have anything to do with 
 it either." 
 
 "Spy!" Miss Peabody said. "Do you wish 
 to insult me?" 
 
 "Of course, miss," her ladyship's own maid 
 conceded, "that's all a matter of point of view. 
 Of course, if I did it, I should feel like a spy, 
 supposing that any harm to anybody was to 
 come of it. But of course you, miss, may feel 
 like a righteous detective about to confront a 
 guilty person." 
 
 "Of course, that's exactly what I do feel 
 like," Miss Peabody said. 
 
 "Then your conscience is probably all right," 
 Miss Jenkins answered, "and I don't see that 
 there's anything more to be said about it, miss." 
 
Z72 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 ''Do you mean to say," Miss Peabody asked, 
 "that you don't mean to help me?" 
 
 "I am perfectly ready, miss," her ladyship's 
 own maid said, "to give you the best oppor- 
 tunity in the world for spying upon Miss Dela- 
 mare and for giving her, as you call it, a piece 
 of your mind. Of course, I don't believe it's 
 much use your trying to spy upon the lady. 
 Let us say that's only because she's likely to be 
 careful as long as she's in this house, and not 
 because she's naturally a virtuous character." 
 
 "I feel it in my bones that she isn't," Miss 
 Peabody said. "I feel it in my bones that, if I 
 could get a quiet talk with her in circumstances 
 which had already compromised her a little, by 
 sheer force of virtuous indignation I could so 
 address her that she would leave this household 
 for good, crushed and overwhelmed." 
 
 "I don't think I would be too sure of that," 
 said Miss Jenkins. 
 
 "My good girl," Miss Peabody retorted, "I've 
 done too much talking to abandoned women in 
 my time — you forget that I'm the president of 
 the Boston Association for the Suppression of 
 Sin — and I haven't been the president of that 
 society for ten years without knowing how to 
 deal with abandoned women. They're like wax 
 in my fingers." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 273 
 
 "That may very well be, miss," Miss Jenkins 
 said; *'but can you be perfectly certain that 
 Miss Delamare is an abandoned woman? 
 There's really nothing in the world that's ever 
 been said against her." 
 
 *T tell you I feel it," Miss Peabody said. "I 
 know it. I shudder when I think of her." 
 
 "But that," Miss Jenkins urged, "may be 
 only just a natural antipathy — the sort of anti- 
 pathy that some people have for Jews." 
 
 "A natural antipathy!" Miss Peabody ex- 
 claimed. "Yes, the natural antipathy that the 
 virtuous and respectable feel for the frivolous, 
 sordid, degenerate, thoughtless and idle crea- 
 tures of their own sex." And rendered the 
 more eager by Miss Jenkins' opposition. Miss 
 Peabody exclaimed: 
 
 "Only give me the opportunity really to con- 
 front that viper, and I will give her such a 
 talking to, that at the end of it she will cer- 
 tainly know that my heel is upon her head." 
 
 "Of course, I can do what you wish, miss," 
 her ladyship's own maid said reasonably, "and 
 of course it may — it probably will — lead to driv- 
 ing what you might call the dragon out of this 
 household. But I will urge you not to do it, 
 miss. Miss Delamare is an innocent and harm- 
 less little creature, and I'm not certain that if 
 
274 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 you attempt to harm her it won't recoil upon 
 your own head. Indeed, I am pretty certain 
 that it will." 
 
 '*My good girl," Miss Peabody said with dig- 
 nity, "that's the sort of sentimental nonsense 
 that you read in novelettes in the servants' hall. 
 You may rely upon my judgment, that of a 
 mature woman, and you may be certain that 
 anything that I do, or anything that you do for 
 me, will be perfectly justified." 
 
 "I shall be perfectly justified," Miss Jenkins 
 answered slowly; "well, I hope I shall, and if 
 I'm not, your blood will be upon your own 
 head." 
 
 "That's a ridiculous phrase again, my good 
 girl," Miss Peabody said; "so let's make an end 
 of this nonsense. I simply order you to do 
 what I have suggested, and there's an end of 
 it." 
 
 Miss Jenkins suddenly looked at Miss Pea- 
 body. "Miss Olympia," she said gravely, "has 
 it ever struck you as quite a side issue, that the 
 arrangement of rooms in this house is slightly 
 questionable? I must say it struck me as ex- 
 traordinary that you never should have raised 
 any objection." 
 
 Miss Peabody started and exclaimed: "What 
 do you mean?" 
 
} RING FOR NANCY 275 
 
 "Of course," Miss Jenkins continued, "I 
 don't want to raise any suspicions, but it seems 
 to me a thing that might be changed, that pos- 
 sibly ought to be changed — that the major and 
 Miss Delamare should have rooms side by side 
 with only that panel in between." 
 
 Miss Peabody became suddenly the vivid red 
 of a turkey-cock's wattles. She opened her 
 mouth, but she found positively no words to 
 utter. 
 
 "That I should never have thought of it!" 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, it has always struck me as odd, miss," 
 
 Miss Jenkins answered, "that you never should." 
 
 ^ "Of course it must be changed at once," 
 
 K Miss Peabody answered. "It must be changed 
 
 P immediately." 
 
 "Of course it shall be, miss," her ladyship's 
 own maid said. "I shall see to that. And in 
 view of what you've just been asking of me, it 
 seems that there would be another little ar- 
 rangement . . ." Miss Jenkins hesitated, and 
 again Miss Peabody asked sharply: 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I hardly like to suggest it, miss," Miss Jen- 
 kins said. 
 
 "Nonsense!" Miss Peabody exclaimed. "I 
 order you to do so." 
 
276 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Fd much rather you thought about it, miss/* 
 her ladyship's own maid said. "I don't really 
 care to speak of such things;" and faced by the 
 new firmness of Miss Jenkins' lips, Miss Pea- 
 body really did reflect. 
 
 **If you consider what you've asked for, miss," 
 Miss Jenkins said, "the opportunity for de- 
 nouncing Miss Delamare in circumstances that 
 might appear slightly — well, let us say awkward 
 for her . . ." 
 
 Miss Peabody suddenly shook with the birth 
 of a new idea. 
 
 "That's it!" she exclaimed. "That's precisely 
 it. You will have my things removed to the 
 major's room, and you will have the major's 
 things removed to my room. At once; with- 
 out any delay. The major will be away all day, 
 and he will probably not return until late at 
 night. And you will give him no intimation 
 that the change has been made. I positively 
 refuse to allow you to give him any warning. 
 And then he will come up to my room. And 
 we shall just see what takes place." 
 
 Miss Jenkins remonstrated with Miss Pea- 
 body for so long that Miss Peabody simply 
 could not for the life of her understand why she 
 did it. She could only in the end put it down 
 to some undeveloped ideas of womanly pro* 
 
* 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 277 
 
 priety which might do Miss Jenkins as a servant 
 a great deal of credit, but which, with her 
 superior knowledge, Miss Peabody considered 
 to be the merest nonsense. 
 
IV. 
 
 TN spite of their ideas to the contrary, the 
 "*• major and his aunt spent a long day in 
 town — for the speciaHst whom they went to 
 consult about the major's eyes strongly recom- 
 mended them to get all the distraction they 
 could. He said that what the major chiefly 
 needed was peace of mind, and with the amiatle 
 penetration that these people sometimes pos- 
 sess, he seemed to discern that the Manor 
 House, Basildon, if one of the quietest, was not 
 one of the most restful houses in the United 
 Kingdom. 
 
 So that, first, to get a really good change they 
 went to interview the manager of the book-stall 
 business that had issued a summons against the 
 major. This gentleman was really puzzled by 
 the major's plain explanation. He could not un- 
 derstand what the major had to talk to Miss 
 Delamare about with such concentration when, 
 as Mrs. Foster insisted on explaining, she was 
 the major's adopted sister, and was going to 
 stay with him in the same house. It did not 
 strike the manager as a reasonable explanation 
 for refusing to pay for four and twopence worth 
 
 278 
 
RING FOR NANCY 279 
 
 of magazines. He was puzzled, and since he was 
 manager of an immense business and had all 
 the time in the world on his hands, he just 
 listened to the major's fine confusion with ami- 
 ability and for a tremendous time — from half 
 past eleven until twenty past twelve. 
 
 Another thing that he could not understand 
 was the major's statement that for magazines 
 that he purchased at one stall he paid on prin- 
 ciple at another. The major explained that he 
 was a shareholder of the company out of grati- 
 tude to the novelist who had helped him to pass 
 his remarkable examination; and that, too, the 
 manager was unable fully to understand. The 
 major said that that was as plain as eating 
 eggs. He asked the manager to picture for 
 himself what sort of a job guarding a well in 
 Somaliland was; and the manager said that he 
 could not in the least begin to imagine it, but 
 that he had a son who had just come back from 
 that pleasant country. Then it turned out that 
 the manager's son was Sammy Lowes, who had 
 had charge of the next well two hundred and 
 seventy miles away, and that the major had put 
 in a good many evenings at poker over the tele- 
 graph wire with Captain Lowes, though he had 
 never actually met his next-door neighbor. He 
 had to explain then how you could play poker 
 by telegram. 
 
280 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Then he returned to the subject of the nov-» 
 elist who had so helped him. He explained 
 carefully that his grim determination to un- 
 derstand every sentence that that gentleman 
 had ever written had toughened his compre- 
 hension to such an extent that there was not a 
 single thing in the w^orld that he could not 
 understand. 
 
 The manager asked some one on his telephone 
 to send up Mr. Barnes; and Mr. Barnes, who 
 was introduced as the company's book inspec- 
 tor-general, declared that he had not even heard 
 the name of the novelist. He went away, how- 
 ever, and then returned with the information 
 that he had got from a subordinate, that not a 
 single book by that gentleman had ever been 
 sold at their stalls. He appeared to be asked 
 for, however, in the circulating department, and 
 there was one solitary exception. Kew had 
 brought nine copies — thirteen being counted as 
 twelve — of a work by this writer. 
 
 "So that," the book inspector-general said, 
 "you can pretty well tell that he's one of your 
 intellectuals." And the manager nodded his 
 head in cordial agreement. 
 
 "But hang it all," the major .asked, ''how can 
 you tell?" 
 
 The manager looked at his inspector-general 
 of literature. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 281 
 
 "Oh," the inspector-general remarked gloom- 
 ily, "you can tell because really intellectual peo- 
 ple never buy nezv. It's only intellectual people 
 that have discovered that you can buy library 
 copies for a shilling after they have already been 
 used." 
 
 "Now can you do that?" Mrs. Foster asked. 
 "But it seems rather mean, doesn't it?" 
 
 "It's only intellectual people," the inspector 
 answered, "only quite intellectual people who 
 know^ how to be really mean. And the fact of 
 the sale of three copies at Kew goes to back up 
 my contention. For Kew is where we sell only 
 the very crankiest of stuff — health periodicals 
 and the halfcrown monthlies. So if there wasn't 
 vegetarianism in that particular book, there 
 must certainly have been Christian Science or 
 spiritualism." 
 
 The major said: "Oh," and then he added: 
 "You call it spiritualism." 
 
 "Then there we are," the inspector said tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 "There," the major remarked politely, "in a 
 manner of speaking, you may safely say we all 
 certainly are." 
 
 "But," the manager hazarded when the in- 
 spector had gone, "I may be frightfully stupid, 
 but I can't in the least see how where we stand, 
 wherever it is, interferes with your frightful 
 
282 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 crime of stealing periodicals from a railway 
 book-stall." 
 
 *'But," the major said, "it's just established 
 that I'm an intellectual." 
 
 "No defense at all," the manager said grave- 
 ly; "there can be no crime more mean than 
 steaHng from a book-stall. You are a share- 
 holder, and you won't deny that it's the very 
 height of meanness. It's not as if books were 
 bread, or anything necessary or important. And 
 we've just established that the intellectuals are 
 the only people who know how to be thor- 
 oughly and efficiently mean. For what in the 
 world can be meaner than buying second-hand 
 library copies, thus robbing us of our legitimate 
 profit, and the writer of any profit at all? You 
 confess that you belong to the meanest class in 
 the world . . ." 
 
 "But I don't feel in the least like an intel- 
 lectual," the major said penitently. "I never 
 knew I was till this moment." 
 
 "You certainly don't look like one," the man- 
 ager said encouragingly. 
 
 "And I certainly never," the major said, 
 "bought a library copy in my . . ." He stopped, 
 and then he exclaimed slowly, and with his face 
 of awe, "My God! Every one of his hooks that I 
 had in Somaliland had a canceled yellow label out- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 283 
 
 side itr And he stopped as if he were really 
 terror-stricken. 
 
 "Then there," the manager said, "you really 
 are. You are convicted of the stupidity — it's 
 worse than a crime, considering the advantages 
 we offer the public — of dealing with any firm 
 other than us. For we do not deface our library 
 copies with yellow labels, contenting ourselves 
 with a chaste stamp on the title page. And — 
 though that does not matter so much — you have 
 received great benefits at the hands of a dis- 
 tinguished personage without making him one 
 penny the richer." 
 
 "Good heavens!" the major exclaimed. 
 "Doesn't he get any thing?" 
 
 "Not one penny!" the manager answered. 
 "So that you are branded as belonging to that 
 infamous band of sweaters, the purchasers of 
 library copies. You are plainly a sweater, and 
 you stand in danger of being convicted for 
 theft." 
 
 Mrs. Foster protested that her Edward could 
 never be called a thief, but the manager gravely 
 but firmly presented her with many facts con- 
 cerning the financial side of what he styled an 
 infamous and unsanitary transaction. 
 
 But gradually the major became more cheer- 
 ful. "After all," he said, "I could not know any- 
 
284 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 thing about the matter. A great parcel of books 
 was sent me by; Charles Grand — he was a jour- 
 nalist I knew at Simla, and he is now reviewing 
 for the London newspapers . . ." 
 
 "Then," the manager said quietly but very 
 sadly, "the majority of them were review copies 
 which your friend received for nothing and sold 
 to you for two shillings." 
 
 "But," the major exclaimed, "is there nothing 
 but villainy in your business?" 
 
 "Nothing!" the manager answered still very 
 sadly. "The authors are only fools, but the 
 readers are sweaters, and the pubhshers — well, 
 the less I say about publishers the less I shall 
 have to answer for in the courts of my country; 
 but all reviewers are villains. The only bright 
 spot is the book-stall, where everything is 
 above-board !" 
 
 "Well, Fm glad to know that I was right," 
 the major said. 
 
 "Right!" the manager exclaimed. "You've 
 never been right in your life!" 
 
 "But I was," the major said, "when I took 
 shares in your company, in order to influence 
 the sales of the author to whom I am grateful." 
 
 The manager became instantly attentive. 
 "And how do you propose to do that?" he 
 asked. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 285 
 
 "I am doing it already,'* the major answered. 
 "I never go near a book-stall without asking for 
 the works of my benefactor. And when they 
 are not to be had, I lecture the book-stall boy 
 very severely. I say that I am a shareholder 
 
 "I trust," the manager interrupted him, "that 
 you have never found any of the works of this 
 author upon our book-stalls?" 
 
 "Never!" the major exclaimed. 
 
 "Then that's all right," the manager said, 
 "and you may continue with your explanation." 
 
 "I tell the book-stall clerk," the major accord- 
 ingly continued, "that I am a shareholder, and 
 that I insist upon his ordering all the novels 
 of that author." 
 
 "And do you ever notice that it has been 
 done?" the manager asked. 
 
 "I have never been able to discover that it 
 has," the major said. 
 
 "Well," the manager continued, "it's best to 
 make certain," and he took the telephone which 
 stood on the desk before him. "Barnes," he re- 
 marked into that instrument, "will you kindly 
 give instructions that no books by the author 
 of What Maisie Knew are ever put on sale upon 
 the stalls, except, of course, as library copies?" 
 He put down the telephone, and looking con- 
 
286 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 tentedly at the major, he remarked: "So that's 
 all right. We had better go to Waterloo." 
 
 "But I don't in the least understand," the 
 major said. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, that's all right," the 
 manager answered. "It's all perfectly right." 
 
 "But it seems to me . . ." the major said. 
 
 "It seems to me," Mrs. Foster remarked, 
 "that you have just prevented the books of your 
 friend from being sold at all." 
 
 "That was exactly what was wanted," the 
 manager said. "Here we were in the face of an 
 atrocious conspiracy to plant upon our firm 
 books that couldn't possibly be sold. I have 
 fortunately put an end to that." 
 
 "But hang it all! . . ." the major said. 
 
 The manager looked gravely and benevo- 
 lently at the major. 
 
 "My dear young friend, don't become ex- 
 cited," he advised. "I observe in you a distinct 
 tendency to become excited. I can only imagine 
 that comes from the class of literature that you 
 have been reading. Now take my advice. Give 
 it up. Just give it up." 
 
 "But, confound your impertinence," the major 
 exclaimed hotly, "it has made me the youngest 
 major in the British army." 
 
 "There, there, there, there, there!" the man- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 287 
 
 ager said. "Hush! Hush! I can not imagine 
 what possible advantage it can be to be the 
 youngest major in the British army. But just 
 you take my advice. When you came in I was, 
 reading a book. I am an exceedingly busy man, 
 so it's absolutely necessary that at times I 
 should relax my mind. That is to say, some- 
 times, even in office hours, I take up a book and 
 read. Let me tell you, my young friend, that 
 there's nothing so salutary in the world as liter- 
 ature. And I consider that I, as the manager of 
 this great business, and you as one of its share- 
 holders, are conferring upon humanity the 
 greatest boon that this century . . ." 
 
 "My dear chap," the major said, "this isn't a 
 dinner to the Newsvenders' Benevolent Asso- 
 ciation, or whatever it is where you make 
 speeches like that." 
 
 "The purpose of literature," the manager con- 
 tinued, "is to refresh, to recreate, to enlighten, 
 to uplift. Buried deep in the soothing pages of 
 a book, how blissfully the soul pursues its 
 course! With what a smooth current do the 
 minutes pass, with what a . . ." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all!" the major exclaimed. "I 
 can't stand this. This is like listening to Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe reading aloud." 
 
 "And it was precisely to the works of that 
 
288 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 great and splendid writer," the manager said, 
 "that I was desiring to direct your attention. If 
 you would go round the book-stalls now and 
 observe whether there are any works of that lady 
 to be seen, I should be pleased to empower you 
 to threaten to horsewhip any book-stall clerk 
 whose stall did not display at least six copies of 
 six different works by Mrs. Kerr Howe in a 
 very prominent position. In the most prominent 
 place he can give them, indeed." 
 
 "Then," Mrs. Foster suddenly asked the man- 
 ager, "Mrs. Kerr Howe really is a great writ- 
 er?" 
 
 "Madam," the manager said impressively, 
 "Mrs. Kerr Howe is the greatest writer the 
 world has ever seen. You can prove it by every 
 possible means. Do you wish to prove it by 
 statistics? Then let me tell you that the com- 
 plete works of Mrs. Kerr Howe had enjoyed up 
 to the day before yesterday a world sale of 
 seventeen and a half million copies. Supposing 
 all these volumes were stacked on their sides, 
 they would reach from here to the moon. Sup- 
 posing them to be laid end to end, they would 
 reach twice from here to the moon and back. 
 The mere quantity of printers' ink employed in 
 their production has been eight and a half 
 thousand gallons. To make the paper required 
 for them one entire forest in the colonv of New- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 289 
 
 foundland, several woods in Norway, and the 
 entire output of rags for one year of a city the 
 size of Liverpool have been required." 
 
 "This is extremely interesting," Mrs. Foster 
 said. "I'm sure Mrs. Kerr Howe will be de- 
 lighted to know this." She looked at the major 
 reflectively. "My dear Edward," she said, "I 
 sometimes thought that I should like you to 
 marry Mrs. Kerr Howe. But now that I have 
 heard these beautiful facts, my mind is more at 
 rest upon the subject. Of course, in my heart 
 I should much prefer you to marry Miss Dela- 
 mare. And I am sure both ladies are only just 
 waiting to be asked, to jump down your throat." 
 
 The manager suddenly stood up. "Do I un- 
 derstand," he said, with an accent almost of 
 awe, "that I am talking to people who are upon 
 intimate terms with those two great ornaments 
 of the social life of the day — Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 and Miss Flossie Delamare?" 
 
 "But they are both stopping with us at the 
 present moment," Mrs. Foster said. "And they 
 are both most extremely anxious to marry my 
 nephew. At least, Mrs. Kerr Howe is, though 
 I don't know how it may be with Miss Dela- 
 mare, for, of course, she's my adopted daughter, 
 and the major's my adopted son, so perhaps 
 the church would forbid the marriage. I am 
 not very clever at these things.'* 
 
290 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "You've been extremely clever, madam," the 
 manager said, "in adopting a distinguished and 
 charming family; and I trust that whtn your 
 son does marry, he will permit me to present to 
 the bride, v^hichever lady she may be, a com- 
 plete set of the works of Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 bound in our half-roan with gilt backs and 
 marble tops. There could be no present in the 
 world more appropriate to a newly married 
 lady, for these books will refresh and recreate 
 her weary hours . . ." 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I'm much obliged," the major 
 said. 
 
 "Of course," the manager continued, address- 
 ing Mrs. Foster, "I imagine that from the sam- 
 ples of your nephew's conversation and be- 
 havior that I have been privileged to hear and 
 to hear of, her weary hours — or at any rate 
 her unexcited hours — will be quite few and far 
 between. But I can imagine nothing better 
 calculated to engross the mind and to relieve it 
 of gloomy thoughts while, say, the lady is wait- 
 ing in the corridors of a police-court, or during 
 the assizes, while she is expecting the verdict 
 of the jury who will retire to consider it — I can 
 not imagine anything better calculated to dis- 
 tract the mind than any volume by the author of 
 Pink Passions or Crime in a Nightgozvn/' The 
 
RING FOR NANCY 291 
 
 manager pulled out his watch. "Thank 
 heaven!" he exclaimed; "it's twenty past 
 twelve. Now let's go to Waterloo." 
 
 "But what are we going to Waterloo for?" 
 the major asked. 
 
 "To investigate on the spot," the manager 
 answered, "the details of your sordid crime." 
 
 "But that will be taking up a tremendous 
 amount of your time," Mrs. Foster said. 
 
 "My dear lady," the manager answered, 
 "that's exactly what I want. Do you suppose 
 that a man like myself has anything in the 
 world to do? I am the head of one of the most 
 important, of one of the most extended enter- 
 prises in the world. We employ nine hundred 
 and seventy carts in the distribution of weekly 
 periodicals alone. And is it thinkable that I — 
 the head of this great business — should have 
 anything in the world to do?" 
 
 "But I should have thought . . ." Mrs. Fos- 
 ter began timidly. 
 
 "My dear lady," the manager said, "just re- 
 flect for a moment. What is the secret of busi- 
 ness success? What is it that makes an enter- 
 prise run smoothly once it has started on its 
 proud career? I will tell you. The secret of all 
 these things is efficient subordinates. Now my 
 subordinates are so absolutely efficient that 
 
 b 
 
292 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 1 
 
 there is nothing in the world left for me to do. 
 I sit here for whole mornings playing patience, 
 or reading the works of Mrs. Kerr Howe, or in 
 the alternative simply twiddling my thumbs and 
 praying heaven for an occupation. Thanks to 
 yourself and the major, my mind has been occu- 
 pied from half past eleven till twenty minutes 
 past twelve by this extraordinary and engross- 
 ing story of passion and crime." 
 
 "Oh, hang it all!" the major said, "where 
 does the passion come in?" 
 
 *T have gathered," the manager answered, "in 
 the course of our conversation, that you are en- 
 gaged to at least two ladies, and that at least 
 two other ladies are anxious to marry you. Of 
 course, it is no affair of mine; but I can easily 
 gather from these glimpses of the background 
 of affairs of the heart what thrilling situations, 
 what tremendous escapes and outpourings of 
 the soul must occur in the course of your daily 
 life. What a subject for Mrs. Kerr Howe! 
 And how eagerly, did it only know the circum- 
 stances, would the public await that lady's next 
 volume. But now let us go to Waterloo. As I 
 have said, I have been in an agony all this 
 morning for the want of an occupation. And 
 now that I have a chance to make a criminal 
 investigation on my own account, is it to be 
 
RING FOR NANCY 293 
 
 thought that I will let the matter drop until I 
 have sifted it to the bitter end?" 
 
 They drove to Waterloo in the motor that had 
 brought them up from Basildon. And there the 
 manager interviev^ed the book-stall clerk, whose 
 manner was respectful while it was self-respect- 
 ing, and the book-stall boy, who was in tears. 
 The book-stall boy declared that he had certain- 
 ly found eight sixpenny magazines, one penny 
 daily, and two halfpenny dailies upon his stall. 
 And these he had sent back to the central ofHce 
 as "returns," because he did not know what else 
 in the world to do with them. Similarly, he had 
 found upon his stall the half-sovereign that the 
 major had thrown there, and this he had taken 
 to the Lost Property Office which, he under- 
 stood, was the correct thing to do. At the end 
 of three months, if the major did not in the 
 meantime identify his coin, the half-sovereign 
 would have become the property of the paper- 
 boy. 
 
 *Tt results from all this" — the manager ad- 
 dressed the major and his aunt — "that, although 
 an obvious attempt at theft was made, yet, the 
 offender having returned the stolen goods, and 
 made an honest though mistaken attempt to pay 
 for them, the company — though I say it re- 
 gretfully — would hardly be justified in attempt- 
 
294 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 ing to prosecute the offender who might be 
 very difficult to identify." 
 
 "But hang it all!" the major said. 
 
 "That, my young friend/' the manager re- 
 plied, "is the fifth time that you have said, 
 *Hang it all!' in the course of an hour. I can 
 only put down the smallness of your vocabulary 
 to the nature of your favorite literature. For 
 books, while they refresh the mind, recreate 
 the senses, and are boons to minds weary and 
 depressed . . ." The manager's eye at this mo- 
 ment fell upon the clock that, upon the main 
 line departure platform, marked the hour of 
 one. "God bless my soul!" he said. "Let's all 
 go and have lunch together. That is to say, I 
 shall be delighted if you will lunch with me, 
 for I am extremely obliged to you for getting 
 me through this morning. For this afternoon 
 I am safe, since I have an engagement to play 
 golf with the manager of the P.Q.Q.G., who, 
 let me tell you, is one of the busiest men of 
 our busy commercial world." 
 
V 
 
 ^T^HEY lunched at an excellent and ex- 
 •*• tremely costly restaurant that was hidden 
 way in a dirty back alley, behind Token- 
 house Yard. Here they had the opportunity of 
 inspecting the features of gentlemen who, the 
 manager assured them, were the twenty-seven 
 busiest men of their great commercial world. 
 He also told them that they might, if they im- 
 agined carefully, imagine that there they heard 
 the very wheels of London finance whirring 
 along. But when they listened with attention, 
 the sound most audible to them was made by 
 the head of the firm of Howe, Hough, Blades 
 and Kershaw, who was snuffling over his soup. 
 
 "Well," the manager said reflectively when 
 they had finished lunch, "I'm very much obliged 
 to you for your society and for clearing up the 
 mystery." 
 
 "But there could not have been any mystery," 
 the major said. "You can't really have sus- 
 pected me of wanting to steal four and tuppence 
 worth of cheap literature!" 
 
 "Oh, that wasn't the mystery," the manager 
 295 
 
 L 
 
296 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 answered. "You see, for a long time past I 
 have been puzzled by reports from various 
 book-stalls of a gentleman — and all the clerks 
 reported that he was strange in his manner — 
 who insisted on their providing their stalls with 
 copies of works that couldn't by any imagin- 
 able probability ever get sold. And what I 
 really wanted was to get the facts of this sin- 
 gular proceeding and if possible to put an end 
 to it. I think I have done that." 
 
 "I think I must acknowledge that you have 
 done that," the major said rather ruefully. 
 
 "Henceforth the book-stalls will be protected 
 from these spurious demands," the manager 
 continued amiably. "I think you will acknowl- 
 edge that, too." 
 
 "I think I must," the major conceded; and 
 then he asked: "You don't happen to be an 
 Irishman by any chance?" 
 
 "No, I was born in Peckham," the manager 
 answered, — "silly Peckham." 
 
 "But probably under the table of a solicitor's 
 clerk," the major commented. 
 
 "Oh, no," the manager answered. "Just in 
 the usual ordinary common-sense parsley-bed." 
 He had accompanied them to the opening of the 
 dirty court where their motor-car was awaiting 
 them, and he held up his finger to a taxicab. 
 
RING FOR NANCY 297 
 
 "You see/* he said, "what's the trouble with all 
 you Irish people is that you are too clever by 
 half, whereas we who are born in Peckham are 
 only just clever enough. That's what gives us 
 our immense pull." He recommended them 
 very strongly, if they wanted to be interested, 
 to go to the matinee of Pigs is Pigs and see 
 how they liked it without Miss Delamare as the 
 leading lady. And this they really did. The 
 major, who had never seen this entertaining 
 work which united in itself the talents of two 
 authors and three musical composers, was quite 
 interested in its simple display; but Mrs. Foster 
 said that it was not worth seeing in the absence 
 of the "symphonic embodiment of quaint im- 
 beciHty." Afterward they dined in the ladies' 
 room of the major's club, and there the major 
 met a man whom he had not seen for eleven 
 years. And Mrs. Foster, who had really a great 
 dread of traveHng in the motor by night, went 
 back to Basildon by the eight forty-three, so 
 that the major should have his talk out with 
 his old friend. She insised on this because she 
 wished him to have a very thorough change. 
 It may have been a quarter past ten when 
 the major left his club steps in the large motor. 
 And as the roads were quite empty, and the 
 moonlight very bright, they got full forty miles 
 
298 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 an hour out of her, and he reached Basildon 
 Manor not much more than twenty minutes 
 after his aunt, who had gone straight up to 
 Miss Delamare. He himself went straight up 
 to his own room. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Foster had spent a tranquil but 
 somewhat tiring day over the amalgamation of 
 the two societies that were interested in the 
 cause of virtue, and it was not until just before 
 dinner that he went up to his room to dress. 
 Then he discovered that all his things had been 
 cleared out. He rang the bell, which was an- 
 swered by Mrs. Foster's maid, and Mrs. Fos- 
 ter's maid said she knew nothing about it, but 
 she would ask her ladyship's own maid. 
 
 Her ladyship's own maid waited upon Mr. 
 Foster and informed him that such were Mrs. 
 Foster's orders. She could not help it; she was 
 not responsible for it. She had just done what 
 she was told. Mr. Foster protested lamenta- 
 bly; he wanted her ladyship's own maid to 
 inform him what he had done, that at this time 
 of life he should be moved around the house 
 like a parcel sent by post. Her ladyship's 
 own maid could only say that the room which 
 had been allotted to Mr. Foster was thoroughly 
 comfortable and perfectly pretty, being the 
 room which was called the pink room. 
 
9 
 
 RING FOR NANCY 299 
 
 "But what have I done?" Mr. Foster asked 
 mildly. 
 
 Miss Jenkins reflected for a moment, and 
 then she said slowly: "Mrs. Foster, I believe, 
 is extremely angry because you have not signed 
 the contract with Miss Delamare. I believe 
 that is the reason." 
 
 "Well, but what am I to do?" Mr. Foster 
 said. 
 
 "It isn't for me to advise you, sir," Miss Jen- 
 kins said; "but if I might suggest, I should say 
 that you ought to sign that contract immedi- 
 ately after dinner, and then, as I imagine Miss' 
 Peabody will be thoroughly angry, I should 
 advise you to stop with the other ladies until 
 about half past ten, and then go to your room 
 and wait quietly till Mrs. Foster comes back. 
 For I may say that I know pretty well what 
 women are, and I think, sir, if you give proof 
 of deference to Mrs. Foster's wishes and of 
 obedience to her commands, she will probably 
 be inclined to forgive you." 
 
 "But this is awful," Mr. Foster said. "I 
 simply daren't sign that contract." 
 
 "You will find it much more awful if you 
 don't, sir," Miss Jenkins said. "Mrs. Foster is 
 determined not to speak another word to you." 
 
 Mr. Foster groaned and groaned. And then 
 he permitted Miss Jenkins to lead him to the 
 
300 RING FOR NANCY » 
 
 pink room, where he dressed for dinner. At 
 dinner he sat pallid and depressed, and did 
 nothing to enliven the conversation of the three 
 ladies who were under his charge. But, having 
 drunk three and a half glasses of Moselle, two 
 of champagne, two of port, and one of liqueur 
 brandy which he took with his coffee, he joined 
 the ladies with a firm step and courageous 
 manner. I 
 
 **Miss Delamare," he exclaimed in loud tones, 
 "if you will kindly bring me that contract for 
 the new theater, I will go into my study and 
 sign it with you at once. Miss Jenkins and one 
 of the other servants can be the witnesses." 
 
 Miss Peabody started violently and opened 
 her mouth, but as Mrs. Kerr Howe was pres- 
 ent, she did not feel that it would be wise to 
 make any remark. And Mr. Foster remained 
 under the shelter of the presence of Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe until Miss Delamare returned with the 
 contract. Mrs. Kerr Howe was talking about 
 the end of the third act of her play. And she 
 went on talking about it to Miss Peabody until 
 ten minutes after Mr. Foster and Miss Dela- 
 mare had gone away. Then she perceived that 
 Miss Peabody had fainted in her grandfather^s 
 chair. 
 
 It was not for nearly an hour and a half that 
 
RING FOR NANCY 301 
 
 she was brought round. Under the ministra- 
 tions of her own maid, her ladyship's own 
 maid and Mrs. Kerr Howe, she had cold rigors, 
 warm heats, and finally a real and typical fit of 
 hysterics. It being then about a quarter past 
 ten, Miss Jenkins suggested that she had bet- 
 ter drink a little whisky and water and then 
 go quietly to bed. 
 
 **I am not going to bed" Miss Peabody said; 
 but as she had been talking nonsense — sheer 
 simple nonsense — for the last three-quarters of 
 an hour, no one took any particular notice of 
 the speech, and her own maid and her lady- 
 ship's own maid conducted her up to her room 
 which was by now the room with the panel. 
 She dismissed her own maid, but she begged 
 Miss Jenkins to stay with her. And immedi- 
 ately, with eyes that glittered with rage. Miss 
 Peabody commanded: "Tell me how this panel 
 works." 
 
 With their forbidding, unseeing or threaten- 
 ing eyes the three men, the three women, the 
 three children and the baby on its hands and 
 feet gazed at Miss Peabody. They appeared 
 immense and threatening. Miss Jenkins said 
 slowly : 
 
 "You work it by a knob in the carved frame. 
 That is to say, miss, there are two knobs, one 
 
302 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 to shut it and one to open it. That was why 
 the major couldn^t shut it the other night. He 
 got hold of the one that opened it first, and it 
 never entered his head that there was another 
 to shut it. And then Miss Delamare found the 
 one to shut it, and it never entered her head 
 that there would be another to open it." 
 
 Miss Peabody said: "That fiendish woman 
 !s at the bottom of everything." 
 
 "All the same, miss," Miss Jenkins said slow- 
 ly, "I don't think if I were you that I should 
 :attempt to interview Miss Delamare to-night. 
 I should personally advise you to let the knobs 
 alone." 
 
 "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort," 
 Miss Peabody said. 
 
 "It almost makes me inclined to say," Miss 
 Jenkins replied slowly, "your blood be upon 
 your own head." 
 
 Miss Peabody said sharply: "That's a most 
 improper remark." 
 
 "It would be," Miss Jenkins returned, "if it 
 were a question merely of superior and inferior. 
 But you have insisted on my joining in what 
 appears to be — in what you consider to be — 
 a plot. And plotters have got to be considered 
 equals. I don't think it a proper thing that 
 you should attack Miss Delamare. And what's 
 
RING FOR NANCY 303 
 
 more, I don't think it will be a good thing for 
 yourself." 
 
 Miss Peabody became calmly hard and ob- 
 stinate. 
 
 "My girl," she said, "I don't know why you 
 should be so concerned for Miss Delamare. I 
 don't believe that I can consider you a friend 
 of mine." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't consider me a friend of 
 yours," Miss Jenkins replied. "I am certainly 
 not, and it will make your position plainer if 
 you consider that I am very decidedly not a 
 friend of yours. But it is the most friendly 
 thing I have ever said to you when I recom- 
 mend you to leave that panel alone/* 
 
 "And is it likely," Miss Peabody said, "that 
 I should take the advice of a servant who defi- 
 nitely tells me that she is not my friend?" She 
 laughed again with a high incredulity. "Is it 
 really believable?" she said. "A servant who 
 is not my friend!" 
 
 Miss Jenkins stood still with her hands hang- 
 ing before her. There was quite a silence, and 
 then Miss Peabody said sharply: "Well?" 
 
 "I have nothing in the world to say, miss," 
 Miss Jenkins continued. "The position is abso- 
 lutely at a deadlock. I have recommended you 
 very earnestly to leave the thing alone. It 
 
304 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 doesn*t appear to me to be a dignified proceed- 
 ing; it doesn't appear to me to be the proceed- 
 ing of a lady, or even of a decent-hearted 
 woman. And if you persist in doing it, all I 
 can say is, that that takes away any reluctance 
 I may feel. Because, of course, it makes me 
 all the more absolutely certain, if I was not 
 certain enough already, that you are absolutely 
 unfitted for the position you are called upon to 
 occupy." 
 
 Miss Peabody remained perfectly calm. "I 
 don't in the least understand your threats," she 
 said. **And I don't in the least want to under- 
 stand them. To-morrow I shall deal with you. 
 .What do you think your mistress will say when 
 she hears of your outrageous insolence to a 
 guest of her house?" 
 
 "I think her ladyship will be in entire agree- 
 ment with me," Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 "I don't believe anything of the sort," Miss 
 Peabody answered. "You may understand ser- 
 vant nature very well, but it's pretty certain 
 that you don't understand the nature of em- 
 ployers. You will find, I think, that her lady- 
 ship will entirely agree with me. You will 
 find, I think, that there is a sort of freemasonry 
 between employers, and that your employer, 
 hearing that you have been insolent to another 
 

 RING FOR NANCY 305 
 
 person of her class, will turn you out of your 
 situation at once. And I am glad of it, for you 
 are a more puffed-up creature than any one I 
 have ever met in this world." 
 
 "Well, all I can say is," Miss Jenkins an- 
 swered, "that if there is that sort of freema- 
 sonry between employers, and if that's the sort 
 of thing that can happen to a good servant 
 who does what is only her duty in such circum-^ 
 stances as I have done my duty — all I can say 
 is, that if that sort of thing happens, servants 
 are a bitterly wronged class, and I shall cer- 
 tainly see to it that my servants are on a dif- 
 ferent footing." 
 
 '^Yoiir servants!" Miss Peabody exclaimed. 
 "What have you got to do with servants?" 
 
 "Of course I have my servants like anybody; 
 else," Miss Jenkins said. "Do you suppose I 
 shouldn't have?" 
 
 "Then all I can say is," Miss Peabody an- 
 swered, "that the condition of affairs in this 
 country is infinitely more corrupt — is infinitely 
 more revolutionary than they can be said to be 
 even in my own country. Heaven knows in 
 Boston there's infinitely too little discipline, 
 there's infinitely too little respect of class for 
 class. But if the sort of thing that I find here 
 is typical of your upper classes, if subordinates 
 
 I 
 
306 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 are not only to be treated as familiars by their 
 superiors, but to be furnished with all the 
 luxuries and the privileges of their superiors 
 themselves, how is it to be wondered at that 
 this branch of the Anglo-Saxon brotherhood is 
 drifting to decay? I don't know who you are, 
 and I don't know what you are, but it's quite 
 evident to me that you must have some hold 
 over your mistress. Probably the origin of 
 that hold is in something corrupt. Almost cer- 
 tainly it is, and that's the end of the whole mat- 
 ter. Everywhere here I find corruption, and 
 corruption, and again corruption." 
 
 "I'm sure that's extremely interesting," Miss 
 Jenkins said. "But if you will kindly give me 
 any further orders that you may have, I shall 
 be pleased to take them. Or if not I shall be 
 glad to be dismissed." 
 
 "I order you," Miss Peabody exclaimed, "to 
 reveal to me the secret of that panel." 
 
 Miss Jenkins produced a very small stamp- 
 case of green leather from the pocket of her 
 apron. She opened it and took out a little 
 piece of stamp-paper; and, coming toward the 
 frame of the immense picture panel, she stuck 
 the little piece of stamp-paper on a protruding 
 knob. 
 
 "That," she said, "is the knob that opens the 
 
RING FOR NANCY 307 
 
 panel. You ordered me to show it you, and 
 I have shown it to you much against my will." 
 
 "But where," Miss Peabody asked, "is the 
 knob that closes the panel?" 
 
 "That," Miss Jenkins exclaimed, "I shall cer- 
 tainly not show you. You insist on opening 
 that panel in order to give Miss Delamare what 
 you would probably call a piece of your mind. 
 And as you will probably give an untruthful 
 account of the transaction to-morrow, I am 
 perfectly determined that, if the panel is opened, 
 it shall remain open as evidence of the fact 
 that it was you who opened it. The panel can 
 not be opened frohi the next room, so that 
 proof is absolutely conclusive. 
 
 "And, indeed," she continued, "I tell you 
 plainly, that I shall go straight from here and 
 throw the closing gear of that panel out of 
 action. So that if you open it, you certainly 
 will not be able to close it even though you 
 should find the other knob." 
 
 Miss Peabody said with a sort of high irony: 
 "Well, this is a pretty condition of affairs, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 "Her ladyship," Miss Jenkins replied, "left 
 me here to act upon my own discretion for the 
 protection of her friends in this house and of 
 the reputation of the house itself. I don't want 
 
308 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 to have scenes here, and I won't have scenes 
 here. But as it is obviously impossible for me 
 to stop you making a fool of yourself, I certain- 
 ly insist upon your making a fool of yourself 
 in my own way — in the way that is least likely 
 to cause inconvenience to her ladyship, or to 
 any other person in this house. And as for 
 Miss Delamare, if you attack her, I don't think, 
 knowing her as I do, that you will get very 
 much change out of her." I 
 
 "I fail to understand these vulgar expres- 
 sions," Miss Peabody said. 
 
 **Not to get much change out of a person,'* 
 Miss Jenkins replied, with the utmost equa- 
 nimity, "is an Americanism. It means that you 
 come off second best. It means that Miss 
 Delamare's case is so absolutely impregnable, 
 that you won't be able even to make her wince 
 and that she will make you wince all the time." 
 
 "Everything you say," Miss Peabody said, 
 "only makes me all the more determined to do 
 what I am determined to do." 
 
 "I am quite aware of that," Miss Jenkins 
 said. "It's a little proceeding which will lead 
 you to disaster, and I don't see that I am par- 
 ticularly concerned in saving you from disaster. 
 I am concerned in satisfying my own con- 
 science. If you come to grief I shall probably 
 
RING FOR NANCY 309 
 
 profit by it, so I am not going to let you come 
 to grief until I have used every possible argu- 
 ment that would dissuade a decent woman. 
 For the main point for me is that if you are 
 not a decent woman, I have every possible right 
 to profit by your collapse.'* 
 
 Miss Peabody, still ironically, exclaimed: 
 "What language!" 
 
 "Yes, collapse," Miss Jenkins said gravely. 
 "That's what you will do. If you indulge in 
 this vicious and vulgar spite you will collapse. 
 You will collapse utterly. You will go out. I 
 warn you that you will go out, and you will 
 probably be miserable to the end of your days. 
 And you will deserve it. For what has Miss 
 Delamare done to you? Nothing! Absolutely 
 nothing! It's just because she's little and gen- 
 tle and pretty and gay and nice — and to be sure 
 you're none of those things — and it's just be- 
 cause she's been kind to another old woman — 
 kind and gentle and considerate — and to be 
 sure you're none of those things either. But 
 it's just because of them that you hate her as 
 an unpleasant cat hates a pleasant dog. It 
 isn't because — it isn't because you're my rival 
 that I hope to see you thrown out of this house. 
 
 "If you had been a nice woman, heaven knows 
 I wouldn't have stirred a finger against you. 
 
310 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 heaven really knows that I wouldn't. But you 
 have such an evil nature! You have such a 
 dislike of anything that is good and gay and 
 pleasant, that even though I don't want to do 
 so for my own sake, I shall certainly do for 
 his — the very best that I possibly can to save 
 from you the man whom I have loved for years, 
 and a man who is as good and as gentle and as 
 gay as any man ever was in this world. So I 
 tell you quite plainly that, if you attempt to in- 
 terfere with Miss Delamare, you will lose the 
 man you are engaged to. I hope you will do 
 it and I hope you may lose him, for if you do 
 I shall most certainly get him, and I want him 
 more than anything else in the world; and 
 that's just all there is to it, and this is the 
 last word that I shall say. I've just planked 
 my cards on the table and you can do as you 
 like." 
 
 Miss Peabody remained gazing at her for a 
 long minute in an absolute speechlessness, and 
 Miss Jenkins was just moving toward the door 
 when she exclaimed sharply: 
 
 "No, stop! You!" She put her hand up to 
 her forehead. "So that," she said at last, "you 
 are in league with that creature. With that 
 Miss Delamare. And you are trying to shield 
 her. That's it! I see through the whole dis- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 311 
 
 creditable and disgusting thing. I'm not going 
 to speak about it any more. I shall attend to 
 the matter to-morrow. But to-night I shall 
 speak to this woman in such a way as to drive 
 her right out of this house. You may hope 
 that I can't do this, but I certainly can. I 
 have had to do with too many abandoned and 
 fallen women in my life not to let my tongue 
 be like the whip of a lash. And I begin to see 
 so far into this disgusting and sordid affair that 
 in a few minutes I shall be absolutely at the 
 bottom of it, and then I shall be prepared to 
 act. But as for your imagining that Major 
 Foster will ever fall to you, I tell you this, that 
 if God struck me with lightning at this minute 
 and you were the only woman in the world, he 
 would never look at you. Now you may go." 
 
 Miss Jenkins withdrew without another word. 
 
 And Miss Peabody remained alone, leaning 
 on the high mantelpiece and really trying to 
 get to the bottom of things. And then sud- 
 denly the bottom of things came up at her like 
 a flash. It was really the plainest intrigue that 
 she had ever been called upon to solve. Miss 
 Delamare was to plunder Mr. Foster, and she 
 had agreed upon this with her ladyship's own 
 maid, giving the major himself over to Miss 
 Jenkins as the price of Miss Jenkins' support! 
 
312 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 There simply could not be any doubt about 
 this. And with a step of extreme firmness, 
 she marched straight over toward the panel. 
 She was just going to tell Miss Delamare that 
 she had unshakable proof that she was Mr. 
 Foster's mistress, and that the granting of the 
 lease of the new theater was the price of her 
 sin. 
 
VI 
 
 MR. FOSTER was sitting in front of his 
 bedroom fire in a state of the most 
 thorough dispiritude. He did not Hke his 
 room, which was hung all with pink chintz 
 ;and did not seem to be the proper room for a 
 gentleman; he was exceedingly afraid of what 
 he saw to be the considerable change in Mrs. 
 Foster, and he was extremely afraid of what 
 Miss Peabody might be going to do or, still 
 more, to say, now that he had definitely signed 
 with Miss Delamare the agreement for the new 
 theater. His simple soul was thoroughly fright- 
 ened, thoroughly worried and thoroughly; 
 shaken. 
 
 For nearly an hour he had been trying 
 to read a book by Mrs. Kerr Howe called 
 Pink Passions. This book troubled him exceed- 
 ingly; for, to tell the truth, he had never read 
 a book since the publication of The Woman in 
 White. And it did not seem to him to be nat- 
 ural that people should behave as they did in 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe's book, and the characters 
 certainly seemed to him to be chiefly improper 
 
 313 
 
314 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 persons. On the other hand, Mrs. Foster was 
 perpetually dinning into him the fact that Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe was a great author. And in his 
 muddled and troubled state, the poor man be- 
 gan reflecting upon what was to be expected 
 from great authors. He had a vague idea that 
 the purpose of literature was said to be to 
 ennoble the world; but, on the other hand, he 
 had an idea that the end of authors, or the life 
 of authors for the matter of that, was spent in 
 the divorce courts. And he imagined that the 
 greater the author, the more frequent were his 
 visits to these establishments. So that he could 
 not very well see how the products of obvious- 
 ly immoral persons could help on moral causes 
 in the world. 
 
 And at the same time he was so anxious 
 to be received back, if not into his old quar- 
 ters, at least into Mrs. Foster's favor, that 
 he was really desperately anxious to appre- 
 ciate not only Miss Delamare, but also Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe. He felt that if he could do this, 
 Mrs. Foster would, for reasons that he could 
 not understand, be kind to him again. And he 
 was looking into his fire and brooding rather 
 miserably. For he was determined to await 
 the return of Mrs. Foster before he got into 
 bed. He wished to tell her as well as he could 
 
RING FOR NANCY 315 
 
 that, in the end, he found that she was more 
 important to him than the wishes of Miss Pea- 
 body. 
 
 Though this again muddled him, for he 
 had really wanted to propitiate his wife by do- 
 ing everything that he possibly could to please 
 her nephew. And he had perfectly believed 
 that, the more he pleased Miss Peabody, the 
 more joy it ought to cause Major Edward 
 Brent Foster; for so simple was his soul that 
 it had never occurred to him to notice that his 
 wife exceedingly detested that lady. He had 
 usually been taught by his friends in the city, 
 and other places, to consider that women were 
 incomprehensible, but he had really had so 
 little to do with women — though it is true that 
 having been as normally unfaithful to Mrs. 
 Foster as most of his friends were to their 
 wives, he had now and then had his whiskers 
 damaged before he shaved them in order to be 
 more in the fashion — he had really had so little 
 to do with women, that the fact they were in- 
 comprehensible had not really seemed to him 
 to matter at all. 
 
 But now he dropped Pink Passions, and look- 
 ing at the fire, exclaimed in a bitterly aggrieved 
 tone: "Why, they're incomprehensible!" 
 
 He had been trying to do his best to please 
 
316 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 everybody all round, and he seemed to have 
 come in for so much abuse, that he simply felt 
 bruised and black and blue all over his moral 
 being. 
 
 "JVhy, they're incomprehensible!" he repeat- 
 ed. For, if Mr. Foster had not been strictly 
 virtuous all his life, he had certainly been 
 strictly respectable, and in the present transac- . 
 tions, he had not only been extremely respecta- | 
 ble but even quite absolutely virtuous. There 
 was not, he was perfectly certain, a single thing 
 that could possibly be said against his virtue. 
 Not a single thing. He was as spotless as an 
 angel, and he tried to be as obliging as a 
 Cook's Guide. 
 
 He heard a little swish — a negligible sound 
 in these old houses — and suddenly there burst 
 upon him the words: 
 
 "You infamous man! You abandoned 
 woman !" 
 
 Mr. Foster tried to spring clean out of his 
 chair; but since he was not normally very ac- 
 tive, he only succeeded in achieving a sort of 
 shuffle. Miss Peabody was standing in a sort 
 of lighted square that had disappeared from 
 the pink chintzed paneling of one of his walls. 
 And his mind having been running upon his 
 respectable but not impeccable past, Mr. Fos- 
 
RING FOR NANCY 317 
 
 ; ter imagined that Miss Peabody must have 
 heard what he would have called a thing or 
 two about himself, and exclaimed in a breath- 
 less alarm: "What woman?" 
 
 And then there began a breathless dialogue, 
 for Miss Peabody exclaimed: *'That actress — 
 that Miss Delamare! I know all about her." 
 
 Mr. Foster ejaculated: "What about her?" 
 
 And Miss Peabody said convictingly: "You 
 are in her room." 
 
 "Certainly not," Mr. Foster almost screamed. 
 "This is my room." 
 
 "You can't expect me to believe that," she 
 said. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" he answered. "You've gone 
 mad with jealousy." 
 
 Olympia advanced upon him. "Mr. Foster," 
 she exclaimed with a fixed gravity, "don't lie 
 to me. I expected to find you here. I was 
 convinced that I should find you here, and I 
 have found you here. There's no getting away 
 from that. If you like to behave penitently, I 
 may be inclined to conceal your guilt. But I 
 insist upon your leaving that atrocious woman 
 to me. I insist upon your at once leaving this 
 room." 
 
 "But damn it!" Mr. Foster said, and it was 
 the first time he had ever sworn in his hfe, "I 
 
318 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 must have some room somewhere. Mrs. Fos- 
 ter has turned me out of my room, and Fm 
 certainly not going to let you turn me out of 
 this." 
 
 Miss Peabody repeated stonily: "I insist up- 
 on your leaving that atrocious woman to me." 
 
 "But there's no woman here but yourself, my 
 good soul," Mr. Foster said. "You can see that 
 there isn't." 
 
 Miss Peabody exclaimed: "Nonsense! She's 
 hiding behind the curtains. She's got under the 
 bed." 
 
 Mr. Foster ejaculated: "By heaven! Women 
 are incomprehensible! You're out of your 
 senses. It's a most extraordinary mistake." 
 And after a moment he added: "Come and 
 look behind the curtains. Get under the bed 
 yourself if you want to. I'm sick of all this." 
 
 Miss Peabody advanced right into the room. 
 She did look behind the curtains, and she satis- 
 fied herself that the bed came so low that no- 
 body could possibly get under it. 
 
 And Mr. Foster by this time had become so 
 furiously enraged, that he began to run about 
 the room throwing open the wardrobes, the 
 drawers and even the cover of his dressing-table. 
 
 "Look here, you infernal idiot," he said; 
 "there you can see my suits. And there you 
 
Mr. Footer let go of Miss Peabody altogether 
 
RING FOR NANCY 319 
 
 can see my vests and pants. And there you 
 can see my spare studs and my shaving things. 
 Does that satisfy you? Miss Delamare doesn't 
 shave." 
 
 Miss Peabody stood for a terrified moment 
 v^ith her eyes so distended that he thought she 
 v^ould burst the lids. 
 
 "Then it's your room!" she exclaimed. "How 
 horrible!" She caught her breath sharply. 
 "My dear man," she exclaimed, "my dear 
 friend, how can I have wronged you!" Her 
 brain began to swim and she made desperate 
 and even exaggerated efforts to get back to the 
 courtly and old-fashioned phraseology that she 
 had always used when speaking to Mr. Foster. 
 "My good friend," she repeated, "my dear 
 friend! My dear, dear friend!" And then, as 
 she felt really faint, she said: "Support me! 
 You are so strong! So noble! Lay me on my 
 bed." And as she actually did totter, Mr. Fos- 
 ter could not see anything for it but to try and 
 support her back into her own room. He really 
 did try, too, to carry her, but, as she was no 
 light weight, he hardly succeeded in doing more 
 than make her stumble along the floor. And 
 then he perceived Mrs. Foster standing in the 
 square opening. She exclaimed, in what he 
 knew to be tones of the deepest contempt: 
 
320 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Mr. Foster! Miss Peabody!'* 
 
 And this affected Mr. Foster so much that he 
 let go of Miss Peabody altogether. She col- 
 lapsed upon the floor like a badly jointed doll 
 and gave just one, but a very violent scream. 
 Mr. Foster stood perfectly still with his jaw 
 hanging down, and then Mrs. Foster said 
 slowly : 
 
 "I presume you will explain what this means. 
 Or don't you intend to?'* j 
 
 Mr. Foster began to giggle feebly. " 
 
 "My dear," he said, "I don't know. I don't 
 know what it means. Miss Peabody came into 
 my room suddenly." | 
 
 Mrs. Foster said simply: "So it appears"; 
 and Miss Peabody remarked faintly from the 
 floor: "Mrs. Foster!" 
 
 Then, suddenly, Mrs. Foster appeared to be- 
 come enraged. She rushed up to Miss Pea- 
 body, and leaning over her exclaimed: 
 
 "Don't speak! Don't you dare to speak, or 
 I shall spurn your abandoned face with my 
 foot." 
 
 Mr. Foster tried to get in a "But, my dear 
 . . ." but Mrs. Foster, who was perfectly white 
 with rage, exclaimed: 
 
 "Hold your tongue!" And then she added: 
 "This is what it means! This is what it has all 
 
•RING FOR NANCY 321 
 
 meant. This is the meaning of your compli- 
 ments to that — that thing. This is why I have 
 been thrown into the society of this woman 
 that I always detested. This is why my poor 
 Edward must marry her — to cover up an 
 abominable intrigue. . . ." 
 
 And then suddenly Miss Delamare and Mrs. 
 Kerr Howe appeared in the room behind. 
 
 *Tn the name of heaven what's the matter?" 
 Mrs. Kerr Howe said. "Who's that scream- 
 ing?'* And they both stood in the opening of 
 the panel with wide and incredulous eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Foster turned upon them with an im- 
 mense dignity. 
 
 "This is the matter," she exclaimed. "I have 
 discovered that that woman on the floor is the 
 basest of mortals. That she and my husband 
 
 "But that isn't possible," Mrs. Kerr Howe 
 said. 
 
 Mrs. Foster answered: "But I tell you I 
 saw it with my own eyes. Mr. Foster was car- 
 rying this woman in his arms. She had her 
 arms round his neck." 
 
 "Oh, I can't beheve that," Miss Delamare 
 said. 
 
 Mrs. Foster was beginning again: "She 
 had her arms round his neck. I heard her with 
 
322 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 my own ears ask him to carry her to her bed. 
 This is philanthropy! This is the suppression 
 of vice! And to think that it should be my 
 husband — and to think that she's such a thing! 
 She's — she's old! Her teeth are false, her 
 hair's false. I know it is. I've seen it hanging 
 over her looking-glass." 
 
 Miss Peabody began to scream lamentably, 
 but Mrs. Foster continued without pity: 
 
 "My dear, if he had wanted to betray me 
 with you, I shouldn't mind so much. You're 
 young and pretty and charming, and you've got 
 a nice heart and gay manners. Or if it had 
 been you, Mrs. Kerr Howe, it wouldn't have 
 been so insulting. You've got good looks, 
 though you're too little to be really handsome, 
 and you dress well. And you have got an intel- 
 lect. But that it should be that thing — she's 
 as old as myself or older, and she dresses out 
 of the rag-bag, and she's wizened and she's spite- 
 ful and she's stupid . . ." 
 
 She was interrupted by Mrs. Kerr Howe, who 
 remarked: 
 
 "Mrs. Foster, there's somebody knocking at 
 the door." And a deep silence fell upon them. 
 They heard the voice of Major Brent Foster 
 exclaim clearly from within: 
 
 "Olympia, may I come in? They say they've 
 changed our rooms." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 323 
 
 And Mrs. Foster exclaimed: "Oh, come in 
 and look at this disgraceful spectacle." 
 
 The major came in, with his amiable smile 
 which gradually changed into an appalled ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "Why, what!" he ejaculated. "Olympia on 
 the floor! Why, whatever! . . . Olympia, get 
 up. I've bought you this ring in town." 
 
 And he was crossing the room to go to 
 Olympiads side, when Mrs. Foster stretched 
 her arm rigidly across his chest. "My dear," 
 she said, "come away. You can't stop here any 
 longer." 
 
 "But what's the matter?" he asked. 
 
 "We must go aw^ay," Mrs. Foster said. "You 
 and I and Flossie — out of this house for good." 
 
 "But hang it all!" the major said. "I must 
 have some sort of an explanation. You can't 
 clear out of the house as if you were taking a 
 twopenny ticket on the tube. What's the mat- 
 ter, Olympia?" 
 
 But Mrs. Foster said quite harshly: "Ed- 
 ward! No, don't speak to that — that — harlot." 
 
 It was at this word that Miss Peabody began 
 to scream again, and she screamed quite re- 
 spectably for some minutes. And then they 
 perceived that Miss Jenkins was coming into 
 the room from behind the hangings. She 
 pushed them aside and stood among them, 
 
324 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 rather rigidly, looking down at Miss Peabody, 
 her lower lip just curling in the very slightest. 
 
 "I told you!" she said in the lowest of voices. 
 
 The major became pale when he looked at 
 her. She was in what Mrs. Foster called a 
 roofed-in dress of dark blue silk. 
 
 *'My God!" he ejaculated. "You here! I 
 insist upon some explanation." 
 
 But Mrs. Foster exclaimed: "No, no, my 
 dear, not now. We must go away. I couldn't 
 explain here. You would kill your uncle. Fm 
 afraid it would be your duty to kill your uncle." 
 
 The major exclaimed: "Good God! Kill my 
 uncle! What's the meaning of all this?" 
 
 Miss Peabody got up from the ground. "Ed- 
 ward," she said, "I shall explain to you and to 
 no one else." 
 
 "Well, I certainly think," the major com- 
 mented, "that somebody ought to explain to 
 some one." 
 
 "Then I shall explain to no one at all," Miss 
 Peabody said. "I shall leave this house at 
 once." 
 
 "I should certainly advise you," Miss Jenkins 
 said slowly, "to give an entire explanation of 
 everything. I believe, miss, that you are per- 
 fectly innocent." 
 
 Miss Peabody looked at Miss Jenkins, and 
 
RING FOR NANCY 325 
 
 her lips almost silently let fall the one word, 
 "Devil!" Then she turned upon Major Foster. 
 "There's no need of explanation," she said. 
 
 But Miss Jenkins exclaimed with her level 
 intonation: "I don't know so much about that, 
 Miss Peabody. You see, the other night you 
 said that things didn't look so innocent. And 
 yet the other night . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Foster said: "What's that about the 
 other night?" with the sharpness of a cross- 
 examining barrister. 
 
 "It w^as a most infamous scene," Miss Pea- 
 body said. "There were all these women run- 
 ning after that fool of a nephew of yours." 
 
 "Oh, I say!" the major exclaimed. "What 
 have / done, Olympia?" 
 
 Miss Peabody turned upon him with an ex- 
 traordinary fierceness. "If you had had the 
 spirit of a man," she said, "you would have 
 struck your aunt dead at my feet." 
 
 "Oh, come, Olympia," the major said. "Kill 
 my aunt as well as my uncle? I should be an 
 orphan." 
 
 "You would have struck your aunt dead at 
 your feet," Aliss Peabody repeated, "before you 
 would have let her utter the abominable insults 
 she has poured on me." 
 
 "But I haven't heard any of the insults," the 
 
326 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 major said amiably. "She must have poured 
 them out before I came in." 
 
 "She didn't say a single word that was not 
 true," Miss Delamare exclaimed. "Not a sin- 
 gle word." 
 
 "You hear her?" Miss Peabody exclaimed to 
 the major. "You hear her, and you don't strike 
 her to the ground at once!" 
 
 "Oh, I say, Olympia," the major said. "You 
 want a town butcher for this job." 
 
 Miss Peabody was by now enraged past bear- 
 ing. And her face as she looked toward the 
 major trembled visibly. 
 
 "You utter imbecile!" she said. "You grin- 
 ning amiable fool. It's disgusting to me that I 
 ever saw your face, and it will disgust me so 
 that I shall be ill if I ever see your face again. 
 This is a house of madmen and fools and of 
 corruption. I leave this house at once. Send 
 for my maid to take away my things. I shall 
 give no explanation; I shall go: for this house 
 is Sodom and Gomorrah." And suddenly she 
 pulled off her engagement ring and threw it at 
 the major's feet. "My own car," she continued, 
 "will take me to town at once. I say good 
 night to nobody; I say good-by to nobody. I 
 only hope that all your sins may be rewarded 
 as they deserve." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 327 
 
 And suddenly they perceived that Miss Pea- 
 body was just gone. They had all been think- 
 ing so hard along one train of thought or the 
 other that it was almost as if she had vanished 
 into the ground. The major exclaimed: 
 
 "Oh, I say! We can't let the poor woman 
 go off like that." And he made a movement 
 toward the door. But Mrs. Foster caught him 
 fiercely by the hand. 
 
 "Edward," she said, "if you go after that 
 woman, I shall pray God to strike you dead at 
 my feet." 
 
 "Oh, come," the major said, "you wouldn't 
 do that." 
 
 They all stood about awkwardly; there sim- 
 ply was not any one there who had a word to 
 say, it seemed to have grown so extraordinarily 
 quiet with the absence of Miss Peabody. It 
 was as if a tempest had suddenly died away 
 and left them listening for departing gusts. 
 And then suddenly Miss Peabody's maid ap- 
 peared in the room that had been Miss Pea- 
 body's, and without a word, she began pack- 
 ing Miss Peabody's trunks. In a sort of bewil- 
 dered silence they all of them began to help 
 her. Miss Jenkins was the first to do this, and 
 then Mrs. Kerr Howe, and then Miss Dela- 
 mare. The girl was gone in an astonishingly 
 
328 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 short space of time, and still they all hung 
 about, for every one of them felt that he or she 
 had something remarkable to say. But no- 
 body said anything; only at last Miss Jenkins 
 remarked: 
 
 "I think. Major Edward, if you would help 
 me to bring some of your things here it would 
 be just as well. I don't suppose Mrs. Foster 
 would want the servants to know anything 
 more than they need know." 
 
 Nobody said anything, for Mrs. Foster was 
 beginning just slightly to whimper. 
 
 "And if," Miss Jenkins continued, "Mrs. Kerr 
 Howe and Miss Delamare will go to bed, it 
 might make things all the quieter. I'm certain 
 Mrs. Foster is wanting a quiet word with her 
 husband." 
 
 And slowly, under Miss Jenkins's direction, 
 they all dissolved, until Mr. and Mrs. Foster 
 were left standing there alone. 
 
lVII 
 
 A ND suddenly, since she no longer had the 
 -^ ^ stimulating presence of Olympia to stiffen 
 her into hostility, Mrs. Foster burst into tears 
 and exclaimed: "How could you, Arthur!" 
 
 Mr. Foster did the best that he could with 
 several sentences beginning with the words, 
 "But, my dear . . ." He could not, however, 
 finish any of them. And then Mrs. Foster be- 
 gan to speak with a real and quite touching; 
 mournfulness. 
 
 "Again I have got to say," she exclaimed, 
 "how could you, Arthur! For although I have 
 known for years that you haven't been a good 
 husband to me in that sort of way, it didn't 
 seem somehow to matter to me. I know I 
 ought to have been enraged; I know it is highly 
 improper of me — it's probably not even virtuous 
 of me — not to have made frightful scenes. I 
 suppose I ought to have cared, but I simply 
 did not see how I could care. I've sat up in 
 bed at night trying to shake myself into rages, 
 but I just couldn't. But when it comes to this 
 — this is so unnatural — this is so horrible." 
 
 329 
 
330 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "But I'm damned," Mr. Foster said, "if I 
 understand what this is! I know I ought not 
 to swear, but I simply can't help it. What's 
 it all about? What is thisf . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Foster contented herself with remark- 
 ing still more mournfully: "How could you! 
 How could you!" 
 
 "But hang and confound you," her husband 
 exclaimed, "I couldn't! I didn't do anything; 
 I don't know what it's all about." 
 
 "But she was in your room," Mrs. Foster 
 said. 
 
 "She was," her husband answered; "but I 
 can't help that. I don't know what happened. 
 I had been reading a book, and suddenly the 
 wall opened and then she came in and accused 
 me of having Miss Delamare concealed there. 
 She came in to search the room." 
 
 A new anger overwhelmed Mrs. Foster. 
 
 "What business," she exclaimed, "what busi- 
 ness was it of that woman to search your room 
 — unless you had given her a right to be jeal- 
 ous? Why did you let her?" 
 
 "My dear," Mr. Foster said, "how in the 
 world could I stop her? She was like a sort of 
 policeman over me. You know she was like a 
 sort of policeman over me." 
 
 "Yet," Mrs. Foster said, "I found you carry- 
 ing her." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 331 
 
 "She was fainting," Mr. Foster replied in self- 
 defense. 
 
 "It doesn't matter whether she was fainting 
 or not," his wife said. "If you could have car- 
 ried her out, you could have stopped her com- 
 ing in — a great strong man like you. No, I 
 am convinced of it, you had arranged with her 
 beforehand to press that knob and open that 
 panel." 
 
 Mr. Foster said bewilderedly: "What pan- 
 el? .What panel?" And when his wife had 
 explained he seized his advantage quickly, and 
 with a quite virtuous indignation, he said: 
 
 ''You knew about that panel. I didn't. You 
 changed my room. I didn't. It's you who are 
 to blame; I am certainly not. I was as obedi- 
 ent as any husband ought to be. I was trying 
 to read a book you told me to read in a room 
 you told me to be in, and suddenly — I'm 
 hanged if it didn't feel as if all the pots from 
 the side of a grocer's shop fell on my head at 
 once. It was all entirely your fault." 
 
 "It's no good your trying to get out of it 
 like that, Arthur," Mrs. Foster said. 
 
 "But I am going to get out of it like that," 
 her husband answered energetically. "I've had 
 too much of it; I'm going to take a stand. Not 
 only did you put me in this room, but you put 
 that woman in that other room." 
 
332 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "I certainly didn't," she answered. "It was 
 Teddy's room, and it has always been Teddy's 
 room." 
 
 "That's all nonsense," Mr. Foster said. 
 "You're the mistress of this house. It's your 
 business to arrange people's rooms." 
 
 "But that's just the whole thing," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter said. "I've never been the mistress of this 
 house. That's been the whole cause of com- 
 plaint with me. I may be now, though heaven 
 knows what other woman mayn't come wrig- 
 gling in . . ." And just at that moment Miss 
 Jenkins came into the major's room carrying 
 his kit-bag. And because Mrs. Foster felt that 
 things were entirely at a deadlock between her- 
 self and her husband, since they were each 
 accusing the other with words of the utmost 
 veracity and sincereness, Mrs. Foster turned 
 upon Miss Jenkins and said: 
 
 "Now, Miss Jenkins, my dear, perhaps you 
 will kindly tell Mr. Foster who is the real mis- 
 tress of this house. I know I sit at the head of 
 the table, and I know the servants call me 
 *ma'am'; but who, for instance, has had the 
 arranging of the bedrooms? Who is really re- 
 sponsible for these extraordinary scenes? For 
 that's the person who is the real mistress of 
 the house." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 333 
 
 Miss Jenkins looked quite softly at Mrs. Fos- 
 ter. "Well, if you ask me, ma'am," she said, 
 *'l should just simply say that I think I am." 
 
 She added, looking down at the kit-bag that 
 she still held: "You see, I am arranging it 
 even now." 
 
 "Then perhaps," Mr. Foster exclaimed quite 
 confidently, "you will kindly explain what the 
 whole of this confounded business has really 
 meant." 
 
 "I am sure," Miss Jenkins said, "that I am 
 perfectly ready to explain everything, and to 
 take every possible kind of responsibility. And 
 I am perfectly ready to begin by saying that 
 everybody in the house is entirely innocent of 
 any kind of guilt — except Miss Peabody, whose 
 motor has just gone tearing down the avenue. 
 If it hadn't, I should not be quite so ready to 
 explain. But she's safely out of it, and we're 
 all safely out of it. So that I can quite well 
 say that even she has not been guilty of any- 
 thing except simple spite." 
 
 "You don't expect me to believe that!'* Mrs. 
 Foster said. 
 
 "I do, ma'am," Miss Jenkins answered. "I 
 expect you to believe every word that I say. 
 For if I've said that I've been responsible for 
 all this arrangement, I certainly expect it to be 
 
334 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 believed that I was not aiding and abetting 
 Miss Peabody or anybody else to do anything 
 that could be called immoral." 
 
 "Well, I think I will allow that," Mrs. Fos- 
 ter said. 
 
 "I think you will have to, ma'am," Miss Jen- 
 kins answered. "I'm not going to say that Miss 
 Peabody didn't insist on being transferred to 
 this room; because she did. She didn't do it 
 with any view to midnight interviews with Mr. 
 Foster. And Mr. Foster could not possibly 
 have had any idea of midnight interviews with 
 Miss Peabody, because he hadn't the slightest 
 idea in any manner of speaking of where he 
 really was. He was just planked down in a 
 room he didn't know. So that clears him. And 
 I don't really suppose that he in the least 
 wanted any midnight conversation with Miss 
 Peabody because, as a matter of fact, I know 
 pretty well that he was just hiding in his bed- 
 room in order to get away from Miss Pea- 
 body." 
 
 "Why should he want to get away from Miss 
 Peabody?'* Mrs. Foster asked. 
 
 "Well, just because, ma'am," Miss Jenkins 
 answered, "because he signed the contract for 
 the new theater with Miss Delamare this eve- 
 ning after dinner." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 335 
 
 Mrs. Foster said, "Oh I" 
 
 "So that you can understand," Miss Jenkins 
 continued, "that Mr. Foster was not particular- 
 ly anxious to have an interview with the lady. 
 And I dare say you can understand that Miss 
 Peabody was anxious to have an interview with 
 Miss Delamare. That was why she insisted 
 upon having this bedroom. That is why we're 
 all — all of us — feehng perceptibly happier." 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked at Miss Jenkins. "What 
 a way you have of understanding things, Miss 
 Jenkins, my dear," she said. "For it's perfectly 
 true that we're all of us ever so much happier. 
 I think I was heart-broken, but the minute that 
 woman went out of the room I knew I was 
 standing on what some poet called his native 
 heath, though, of course, this isn't really my 
 own house." 
 
 "Oh, well, for all practical purposes," Miss 
 Jenkins said, "you can consider it absolutely 
 your own house." 
 
 "But I never shall really," Mrs. Foster an- 
 swered. "Not really quite absolutely." 
 
 "I wouldn't make too certain of that, ma'am," 
 Miss Jenkins said. 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked at her with bewildered 
 eyes that gradually widened and widened. And 
 then she asked as a certain enhghtenment 
 
336 ^ RING FOR NANCY 
 
 seemed to pass across her mild and simple 
 features : 
 
 "You really think you can manage that?" 
 
 "I really mean, ma'am," Miss Jenkins said, 
 "that I wouldn't be too certain that I couldn't 
 — and that you could be perfectly and abso- 
 lutely certain that if I could, you would, in a 
 manner of speaking, be standing on your native 
 heath." 
 
 "I don't understand what this is all about," 
 Mr. Foster said. "But women are always in- 
 comprehensible, so it doesn't matter. I want 
 to know if there is any charge hanging over 
 my head." 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked at Miss Jenkins. "Then 
 this," she said, "is really the happiest day of 
 my life. For even Mr. Foster, for the first time 
 since I've known him, has really behaved like 
 a man, and you can't imagine what an immense 
 satisfaction that is to me. For he has just said, 
 *Damn it!' quite loud and strong, and he has 
 just stood up to me as if he hadn't got a back- 
 bone that was made of india-rubber. . . . Yes, 
 yes, for the very first time ! For, for the whole 
 of his life he has been cringing before me be- 
 cause he has been afraid that I should find out 
 about some red-haired shop-girl out of a glass 
 case, and I have known all the time, especially 
 
RING FOR NANCY Z2>7 
 
 when he came home with the whiskers that he 
 used to wear damaged and bedraggled. And 
 I've known and I haven't cared, and I've been 
 so ashamed of not having cared that I haven't 
 dared to tell him for fear he should tell me 
 that I was immoral. And now it's all come 
 out, and he has really stood up and spoken like 
 a man; and that alone is enough to make me 
 happier than I've ever been since my wedding- 
 day. And if only my Edward were here . . ." 
 
 *'0h," Miss Jenkins said, "I told him to wait 
 outside the door till I said he could come in^ 
 He's there quite all right. But I thought it 
 was not quite fitting that he should hear the 
 delicate things I knew we should have to dis- 
 cuss." 
 
 "But we've really discussed everything, Miss 
 Jenkins, my dear," Mrs. Foster said, "and I 
 don't think he should be kept outside the door 
 any longer than is absolutely necessary, for 
 these corridors are cold and draughty and nasty 
 and anxious sort of places, and it's all so cleared 
 up, and there are such tremendous weights ofif 
 my mind; so that I think we ought to let my 
 dear Edward come in and tell him that I am 
 going to have him too all to myself for the rest 
 of the time." 
 
 "I should not be too certain of that, ma'am," 
 
338 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 Miss Jenkins said softly. "And I should not be 
 too certain that we've discussed all the delicate 
 things that we've got to discuss, because I 
 want a little direction from you on that very 
 subject." i 
 
 "What very subject?" Mr. Foster asked. 
 
 But Mrs. Foster continued composedly: 
 "The only thing that I stipulate is that the 
 next one he chooses shan't be an old maid with 
 a skin like lawyers' parchment, and a temper 
 like what Lucifer is said to have, though I 
 don't believe his can be really as bad." 
 
 "I don't think, ma'am," Miss Jenkins said, 
 "that she will be that. Though, of course, it 
 isn't for me to say. But perhaps, ma'am, if 
 you tell me just exactly what it is you want, I 
 might be able to provide you with something 
 that would come up to sample. For you must 
 remember, ma'am, that you promised me four 
 thousand pounds, and that I might have the 
 major for myself if I got that woman out of 
 the house. And I have got that woman out of 
 the house, as every one will clearly acknowl- 
 edge. So that if you don't feel inclined to 
 keep your promise — though as for the four 
 thousand pounds I don't want it — I should 
 just like to know what it is that exactly you 
 do want — what it is that would suit you ex- 
 actly and absolutely down to the ground." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 339 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked almost piteously at Miss 
 Jenkins. She was really in a most extraordinary 
 state of mind. 
 
 "Miss Jenkins, my dear," she said, "I have 
 always felt that you were one of the family. I 
 have felt from the very first moment I came 
 here — and w^ith no disloyalty to Flossie, for 
 that's quite another sort of thing, and she 
 doesn't strike me as being so much a woman 
 as a child — that you were the very nicest 
 w^oman I have ever met, and — that if you had 
 certain other things which you don't appear to 
 have — but you're so extraordinary that there's 
 no knowing what you have or haven't, or 
 might have, or mightn't have — that it would 
 make me the very happiest woman in the world 
 if you married my Edward. For you are capa- 
 ble and sensible, and more handsome than any- 
 body I have ever seen, and good-tempered and 
 disciplined. I can tell that because you have 
 such an excellent quiet way of being a servant, 
 and you're high-spirited, and you like your fun, 
 and you can make any one in the world fond of 
 you . . ." 
 
 "I think, ma'am," Miss Jenkins interrupted 
 her, "that I know quite well what I am, but I 
 should just like you to tell me what you want 
 me to have." 
 
 Mrs. Foster looked at Miss Jenkins with the 
 
340 RING FOR NANCY | 
 
 expression of a child who gazes into the fire in 
 search of fairy palaces. 
 
 **I don't quite exactly know," she said. "It 
 isn't what I want her to have so much, for I 
 almost hope she won't have much money so 
 that he can't be said to be dependent on her; 
 but I hope she will be of good family, because 
 he's of good family himself, his father, the ad- 
 miral, being descended, as I have heard him 
 say many times, from the old ancient kings of 
 Ireland, and moving in the society of the best 
 in the land. And I wouldn't object to her hav- 
 ing a title, because that's a nice thing, too, 
 though heaven knows I've never wanted it 
 myself. A title — and a house like this — and a 
 little estate like this — but not too big . . ." 
 
 "Of course, ma'am," Miss Jenkins said, 
 "you're talking about Lady Savylle. Well, I 
 don't see any difficulty about that, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Foster had come altogether too near it 
 already to start now. And she just said : 
 
 "You mean that Lady — Lady Savylle would 
 marry him.^" 
 
 "I'm perfectly certain she will, ma'am," Miss 
 Jenkins said, "the moment he asks her." 
 
 "But he loves her," Mrs. Foster said. "He 
 loves her most devotedly." 
 
 "I believe he does, ma'am." 
 
RING FOR NANCY 341 
 
 It was at that moment that Mr. Foster saw 
 something confident and man-like to say, and 
 he remarked: 
 
 "If Edward doesn't propose to Lady Savylle 
 to-morrow, I shall cut him straight out of my 
 will." 
 
 And it was really his turn to be surprised 
 when Miss Jenkins remarked: 
 
 "I should not, if I were you, be too aston- 
 ished if he did it to-night." 
 
 "But surely," Mr. Foster said, "it's too late. 
 You don't expect him to get on a horse and go 
 galloping ... I mean, I shouldn't like it my- 
 self. His eyes have got to be considered." 
 
 Miss Jenkins remarked: "Then if all that has 
 got to be considered, and if you really think it 
 is gefting near the statutory hour for barring 
 proposals of marriage, don't you think it would 
 make it come a little earlier if you went into 
 the next room and I closed the panel — you and 
 Mrs. Foster — for the major is waiting outside 
 with a portmanteau on his back, and the sooner 
 I have a word with him the sooner all this will 
 be settled to everybody's satisfaction." 
 
 The grim men and the vacant women 
 marched across the old couple as they went 
 into the pink room, and Miss Jenkins, closed 
 in and up against it, stood with her hand still 
 
342 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 upon the knob. She was undoubtedly pantmg 
 shghtly, and she looked at the little secret door 
 of escape that was only half hidden by the 
 shadowy arras. The electric light had never 
 got itself repaired, so that she and the room 
 and the great picture and the great bed were 
 only shadowily lit by the pair of long wax 
 candles on the dressing-table. But she aban- 
 doned her impulse of flight and called: 
 
 "Now you can come in, Major Edward." 
 
 The major pushed the door open with the 
 portmanteau that was upon his shoulder, but 
 that was the last use that he made of it, for 
 he pitched it straight on to the ground, and 
 rushing forward with extended arms, he grasped 
 Miss Jenkins and kissed her repeatedly upon 
 every one of her features that his lips could 
 be expected to reach. 
 
 *TVe brought it off at last," he gasped. "IVe 
 kissed somebody at last." 
 
 Miss Jenkins with quite a firm grasp removed 
 his hands from her shoulders. 
 
 "And don't you think it is very wrong of 
 you, sir?" she asked. 
 
 "I'm hanged if I do," the major said. "Fm 
 not engaged to Olympia now." 
 
 "But you are in love with her ladyship," 
 Miss Jenkins answered 
 
The major grasped Miss Jenkins and kissed her repeatedly 
 
RING FOR NANCY 343 
 
 "I am in love with you, with you, with 
 you," the major said. 
 
 "But you have got to marry Lady Savylle,*' 
 Miss Jenkins asserted. "Your uncle says he 
 will cut you out of his will if you don't propose 
 to her to-morrow." 
 
 "I am proposing to you to-night," Major 
 Foster said. "Will you marry me?" 
 
 "But you have got to marry money or a 
 title, sir," she informed him. "One or the 
 other." 
 
 "I don't care," he answered. "YouVe got to 
 marry me." 
 
 "A poor servant, sir?" Miss Jenkins said. 
 "You'll be cut out of your uncle's will." 
 
 "I don't care," he exclaimed. "I'll work." 
 
 "You couldn't, sir," she said. "You'll have 
 to leave the army altogether if you marry a 
 servant. You'll have to live on my wages." 
 
 "Oh, they'll do for two," the major answered. 
 "I'll come as butler." 
 
 Miss Jenkins was searching on his dressing- 
 table. "You haven't got a piece of paper?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He produced from his kit-bag a complete 
 sheet of note-paper. "What do you want paper 
 for?" he asked. 
 
 "To write upon, sir," she answered. 
 
344 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 "Well, you can have half the sheet," he said, 
 and he tore it in half. "You want to make me 
 sign a promise to marry you ; then I shall make 
 you sign a promise to marry me. You're a 
 wicked, cunning, intricate and slippery eel, and 
 you are not going to get out of it." He lent 
 her a fountain-pen from his traveling desk, and 
 she wrote a very short message that could not 
 have been more than three words by the 
 scratching of the pen. She folded the sheet of 
 paper carefully, and then regarded him with a 
 sort of humorous intentness. 
 
 "You're determined to marry me, sir?" she 
 said. "It does seem a pity when we had it all 
 so nicely arranged, your uncle, your aunt and 
 I. You were to marry some one with a title 
 and a little house like this, and a little estate 
 like this." 
 
 "I am going — to marry — you," the major 
 said. 
 
 She held the paper toward him. "Then you 
 had better read this when I am gone," she said. 
 
 "Here, you wait a minute," he commanded 
 cheerfully. "I can do a Httle bit of writing, 
 too; give me my pen." 
 
 He scribbled four words upon his piece of 
 paper, folded it and held it out toward her. 
 "Turn about's fair trading," he said. "You 
 
RING FOR NANCY 345 
 
 give me your paper, and you may have mine; 
 but you're to read yours here and I will read 
 mine." 
 
 She looked at him with an odd smile, and 
 he said: 
 
 "Well, this is what we call the game of con- 
 sequences. You've just got to bear them. 
 Open your paper." 
 
 "No, open yours first," she said. . 
 
 He remarked, "Oh, well . . ." And then he 
 read. "Oh, is that all?" he exclaimed non- 
 chalantly. 
 
 "All.^" she ejaculated. 
 
 "Well," he said, "if you look at your paper 
 you will see that there is only one word in each 
 of them that differs. You've written, 'I'm 
 Mary Savylle,' and I've written, ^You're Mary 
 Savylle.' It seems a silly thing to have done, 
 but it's what you wanted, and I suppose it's my 
 job in life to give you what you want." 
 
 "Then you knew all the time?" she said. 
 
 "All the blessed, blessed time," he answered. 
 "Don't suppose that though the eyes in my 
 head are damaged they didn't know you from 
 the start, though you puzzled me? And don't 
 you suppose it has been a blessed, blessed time 
 just being in the same house with you, and just 
 having you fluttering round, and just knowing 
 
346 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 and just loving and just wondering — ^just won- 
 dering what you were going to do ? And wasn't 
 it just the blessing of God only to sit in this 
 room and to know it was full of you where you 
 had been walking round and round so that the 
 trace of your footsteps interlaced, and every bit 
 of the air in which must have touched you and 
 kissed you? And don't you suppose ..." 
 
 "Oh, you Irish villain !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, you wicked designing witch!" he an- 
 swered. "How did you dare to do it?" 
 
 "Do you suppose," she mimicked him, "that 
 I could bear you to be in England a minute and 
 me knowing it and not being with you every 
 second of the time? And don't you suppose I 
 have passed every minute of the time that I 
 could spare from these botherations just being 
 in this room when you were not in it, and just 
 looking at the cold ashes of the wood and just 
 thinking how they had glowed when you looked 
 upon them? And haven't you been the sun in 
 the air to me, and the sky that carries it all, and 
 the green of the grass, and the love that is in 
 all the world? And don't you suppose that 
 when I have laughed at you I have trembled 
 too, because I knew it was you who was the 
 master of me? And don't you suppose . . ." 
 And she put her hands upon his shoulders and 
 
RING FOR NANCY 347 
 
 drew him close against her. "Don't you sup- 
 pose . . ." 
 
 "What a . . ." he was beginning, when again 
 she interrupted him with: 
 
 "Now, my wild Irishman, don't you be saying 
 that I am anything, and I won't be giving you 
 any title. But just let's remember that it's not 
 you, and it's not me, but it's just us from now 
 on to the end of time, and just say what's fit 
 for both our mouths . . . and that's what a 
 pair of us we are!" 
 
 "What a pair of us we are!" he repeated en- 
 thusiastically. And just at that moment there 
 was not any panel there at all, and Mrs. Foster 
 was remarking: 
 
 "Teddy, there's a knob on this side of the 
 panel as well as on that; we've just found it." 
 She surveyed contentedly the couple who were 
 disengaging themselves from each other's arms, 
 and she remarked: "Ah!" 
 
 "So that," Miss Jenkins said, "you really 
 expected this all the time." 
 
 "I certainly really suspected something of the 
 sort from the very beginning," Mrs. Foster 
 said. "From the first moment that I set eyes 
 on — on her ladyship's own maid." 
 
 "Oh, you wicked old person!" Miss Jenkins 
 said. 
 
348 RING FOR NANCYi 
 
 "My dear," Mrs. Foster replied, "the first 
 thing I learned in my life from Edward's father, 
 the admiral, was that it's best to let young 
 people alone. For he nearly bit my head off 
 when I tried to give Edward's mother good 
 advice during their courting. And a very rash 
 and sudden thing it was, for it only lasted three 
 days from the time when he came into the 
 shop to order twenty pounds of wax candles for 
 the captain's cabin, because things were differ- 
 ent in those days. And I think you will ac- 
 knowledge that I have let you alone ... I 
 think you will acknowledge that I have done 
 my best for my dear Edward. And if a woman 
 really sets herself to do her best, there's not 
 anything in this silly world that is going to 
 prevent her doing it." 
 
 "But hang it all!" Mr. Foster said, reassert- 
 ing after the manner of men his masculine dig- 
 nity. "I refuse not to be credited with my 
 share of perspicacity. Your brother-in-law was 
 undoubtedly a most distinguished officer, I am 
 informed that his cutting our affair with the 
 boats on the Kowloon River in the China War 
 of I forget the date . . ." 
 
 "My dear," Mrs. Foster said, "I'm sure we 
 are most of us anxious to get to bed." 
 
 ". . . was a most spirited action." Mr. Foster 
 
RING FOR NANCY 349 
 
 continued his speech, "and at the first available 
 sitting of the Common Council I shall move that 
 a fitting memorial be erected, either in St. 
 Paul's Cathedral or elsev^here in the city to 
 the memory of one who w^as not only a gallant 
 defender of his country but w^hat I may call 
 the founder of a family v^hich will long adorn 
 our native annals." 
 
 "My dear," Mrs. Foster said, "you go a 
 little too far if you go any further." 
 
 "If you w^ould only," Mr. Foster retorted, 
 "let me speak as I want to speak without dis- 
 tracting me as you might say with red herrings, 
 I want to point out that I, too, certainly did 
 suspect something. For I remember distinctly 
 that that morning at breakfast when her lady- 
 ship handed me the sausages, or it may have 
 been fried soles, for I can not at this distance 
 of time be expected to remember a detail so 
 small . . . and it can hardly be imagined that 
 a man with my knowledge of the world and 
 one who has built up so considerable a business 
 beginning from nothing . . . But what I wanted 
 to say was that I distinctly remember calling 
 her ladyship *Nancy, my dear,' which I cer- 
 tainly should not have done if I hadn't sus- 
 pected something." 
 
 "My dear," Mrs. Foster said, "if you want 
 
350 RING FOR NANCY 
 
 to accuse yourself of making eyes at the house- 
 maid, I'm perfectly ready to beheve it. But 
 when it comes to suspecting things I'm sure 
 we are all a great deal too ready to do that. 
 But, on the other hand when I come to think 
 of it, if it hadn't been for suspicions, I suppose 
 we shouldn't any of us have been here in this 
 particular situation, so that in a manner of 
 speaking, we may say that perhaps it's suspi- 
 cions that make the world go round." 
 
 "And topsy-turvy and upside down and in- 
 and-out and in every possible kind of a happy 
 blessed way," the major said, "for that's the 
 way it's gone with me." 
 
 THE END 
 
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