It is a of the mind that, with it may be the future, it must return after a while to the minor of the that is immediate. The of a visit to the this us to for the moment the of total next year. Mr. Crocker, therefore, having himself for about a of an hour with his on the of titles, was to a more than the of his name in the Birthday Honours—the that in all he would be taken again this to watch the of that cricket-match, and would be to the part of to-day, as he had the part of yesterday, to the of in the at Lord's.
One of alone presented itself. Like baseball, this of was by rain, if there had been of it. He had an idea that there had been a good of rain in the night, but had there been to the of Surrey and Kent to the second of their struggle? He rose from the table and out into the hall. It was his purpose to out into Grosvenor Square and the in its centre with the of his shoe, in order to the or non-stickiness of the wicket. He moved the door, for the best, and just as he it the rang.
One of the of which his wife had Mr. Crocker in the of the years was the of going and doors. He had been up in where every man was his own door-keeper, and it had been among his to learn the lesson that the perfect not open doors but for the to come along and do it for him. He had succeeded at length in this great truth, and offended. But this his mind was by his troubles, and instinct, itself with opportunity, was too much for him. His had been on the when the ring came, so he it.
At the top of the steps which the main entrance of Drexdale House with the three were standing. One was a tall and woman in the early somehow familiar. The second was a small, fat, blobby, boy who was something. The third, in the rear, was a little man of about Mr. Crocker's own age, grey-haired and thin with that through glasses.
Nobody have been less than this person, yet it was he who Mr. Crocker's attention and that home-sick sufferer's to give an almost painful leap. For he was in one of those with square which to the are as as the Stars and Stripes. His blunt-toed yellow shoes sang of home. And his was not so much a as an from Gotham. A long time had passed since Mr. Crocker had set upon a so American, and him speechless, as one who after long some of his childhood.
The female of the party took of his dumbness—which, as she had not him for the butler, she took for a and as to her and wishes—to open the conversation.
"Is Mrs. Crocker at home? Please tell her that Mrs. Pett to see her."
There was a and in the of Mr. Crocker's brain, as about six different to into that main where there is room for only one at a time. He now why this woman's had familiar. She was his wife's sister, and that same Nesta who was some day to be pulverised by the of his name in the Birthday Honours. He was that she had him for the butler. A passed through him as he pictured what would have been Eugenia's of the that he had such a as opening the door to Mrs. Pett of all people, who already him as a low vulgarian. There had been trouble when she had him opening it a to a of for a charity. He perceived, with a in view of the that the of her identity had him a of physical dizziness, that at all he must this on his sister-in-law's part.
Fortunately he was in a position to do so. He all about what did and what they said on these occasions, for in his way he had often Bayliss on the subject. He and the way to the morning-room, by the of Petts: then, opening the door, to allow the to past the point.
"I will Mrs. Crocker that you are here, madam."
Mrs. Pett, the child her, passed into the room. In the light of her her brother-in-law, it is to that his manner at this, their meeting, had her. After many months of she had her own a day or so for England, and for the time of her sister Eugenia her. She did not Eugenia's other possessions, but she did her this butler.
Mr. Pett, meanwhile, had been in the with a on his face. He the look of a man about to be present at a women, and only a wet cat in a back-yard itself with less than a man by such a prospect. A times over, Mr. Pett would have much of his to have been at that moment. Such was the of his mind that, when a hand was upon his arm as he was about to his wife into the room, he started so that his out of his hand. He to meet the of the who had him to the house, on his in an stare.
"Who's leading in the race?" said this in a whisper.
It was a question, from such a source, which in another than Mr. Pett might well have a blank of amazement. Such, however, is the almost and of mind by the study of America's national game that he answered without the hesitation.
"Giants!"
"Wow!" said the butler.
No of anything or about the came to the perfect of Mr. Pett, the of the who in a land a brother. He with a which he had to that morning.
"No of them slumping?" the butler.
"No. But you can tell. It's early yet. I've those boys lead the till the end of August and then be out."
"True enough," said the sadly.
"Matty's in shape."
"He is? The old well?"
"Like a machine. He out the Cubs the day I sailed!"
"Fine!"
At this point an of the of the to upon Mr. Pett. He at this servitor.
"How on earth do you know anything about baseball?" he demanded.
The other to stiffen. A came over his whole appearance. He had the air of an actor who has his part.
"I your pardon, sir. I trust I have not taken a liberty. I was at one time in the of a in New York, and my I in the national game. I up a of the American while in the country." He apologetically. "They sometimes out."
"Let 'em slip!" said Mr. Pett with enthusiasm. "You're the thing that's me of home since I left. Say!"
"Sir?"
"Got a good place here?"
"Er—oh, yes, sir."
"Well, here's my card. If you like making a change, there's a job waiting for you at that address."
"Thank you, sir." Mr. Crocker stooped.
"Your hat, sir."
He it out, at it the while. It was like being home again to see a like that. He Mr. Pett as he into the morning-room with an eye.
Bayliss was along the hall, more than his wont. The ring at the door had him in an piece of news in his paper, and he was aware of having in it.
"Bayliss," said Mr. Crocker in a undertone, "go and tell Mrs. Crocker that Mrs. Pett is waiting to see her. She's in the morning-room. If you're asked, say you let her in. Get me?"
"Yes, sir," said Bayliss, for this happy solution.
"Oh, Bayliss!"
"Sir?"
"Is the at Lord's likely to be too for them to go on with that game to-day?"
"I think it that there will be play, sir. There was a great of rain in the night."
Mr. Crocker passed on to his with a heart.
It was Mrs. Crocker's habit, after years of and a study of the best models, to a of well-bred any which she might to feel. Her with the of England had her that, while the men occasionally permitted themselves an outburst, the did, and she had herself so that she her voice. Her bearing, as she approached the morning-room was and serene, but her. It was that Nesta have come to try to a reconciliation, yet she think of no other for her visit.
She was to three in the morning-room. Bayliss, his message, had mentioned only Mrs. Pett. To Mrs. Crocker the had the of being a of Old Home Week of Petts, a of Pett family mob-scene. Her sister's second marriage having taken place after their quarrel, she had her new brother-in-law, but she that the little man in the was Mr. Pett. The was confirmed.
"Good morning, Eugenia," said Mrs. Pett.
"Peter, this is my sister, Eugenia. My husband."
Mrs. Crocker stiffly. She was how American Mr. Pett was, how his looked, what shoes he wore, how his was, how little he had and how he all those of repose, culture, physical beauty, refinement, dignity, and which men above the level of the common cock-roach.
Mr. Pett, on his side, her cold the eyes, as if he were being by a amateur. He not help what of a man this Crocker was this sister-in-law of his had married. He pictured him as a handsome, powerful, with a and a loud voice, for he no type of man to link his with such a woman. He in a manner a chair, and, having himself into it, perfectly still, to be dead, like an opossum. He to take no part in the interview.
"Ogden, of course, you know," said Mrs. Pett.
She was so on a hard chair and had so much the of having been from the that every time she opened her mouth it was as if a had spoken.
"I know Ogden," said Mrs. Crocker shortly. "Will you stop him with that vase? It is valuable."
She at little Ogden, who was with a d'art of the early Chinese school, a to that which had just of his step-father. But Ogden more than a to him from any in which he was interested. He a deposit of from his right to his left cheek, Mrs. Crocker for a moment with a eye, and his juggling. Mrs. Crocker meant nothing in his life.
"Ogden, come and down," said Mrs. Pett.
"Don't want to down."
"Are you making a long in England, Nesta?" asked Mrs. Crocker coldly.
"I don't know. We have no plans."
"Indeed?"
She off. Ogden, who had himself of a paper-knife, had to the with it. The note thus produced appeared to his mind.
"If Ogden to that vase," said Mrs. Crocker in a voice, "let me ring for the to him a hammer."
"Ogden!" said Mrs. Pett.
"Oh Gee! A can't do a thing!" Ogden, and walked to the window. He looking out into the square, a of the ears that he still progress with the candy.
"Still the same child!" Mrs. Crocker.
"I did not come here to discuss Ogden!" said Mrs. Pett.
Mrs. Crocker her eyebrows. Not Mrs. Otho Lanners, from she had learned the art, do it more effectively.
"I am still waiting to out why you did come, Nesta!"
"I came here to talk to you about your step-son, James Crocker."
The to which Mrs. Crocker had herself in the of the of saved her from the of surprise. She her hand graciously—in the manner of the Duchess of Axminster, a hand-waver—to that she was all attention.
"Your step-son, James Crocker," Mrs. Pett. "What is it the New York papers call him, Peter?"
Mr. Pett, the opossum, came to life. He had to create about himself such a of non-existence that now that he re-entered the it was as if a had out of its like a jack-in-the-box.
Obeying the voice of authority, he pushed the to one and his out of the sepulchre.
"Piccadilly Jim!" he apologetically.
"Piccadilly Jim!" said Mrs. Crocker. "It is of them!"
In of his misery, a appeared on Mr. Pett's death-mask at this remark.
"They should worry about—!"
"Peter!"
Mr. Pett died again, respected.
"Why should the New York papers to James at all?" said Mrs. Crocker.
"Explain, Peter!"
Mr. Pett from the cerements. He had that Nesta would do the talking.
"Well, he's a news-item."
"Why?"
"Well, here's a boy that's been a regular fellow—raised in America—done work on a newspaper—suddenly taken off to England to a London dude—mixing with all the dukes, playing with the King—naturally they're in him."
A more came over Mrs. Crocker's face.
"Of course, that is true. One cannot prevent the papers from what they wish. So they have published articles about James' doings in English Society?"
"Doings," said Mr. Pett, "is right!"
"Something has got to be done about it," said Mrs. Pett.
Mr. Pett this.
"Nesta's going to her health if these go on," he said.
Mrs. Crocker her eyebrows, but she had hard work to keep a off her face.
"If you are not above jealousy, Nesta . . ."
Mrs. Pett laughed a sharp, laugh.
"It is the I object to!"
"The disgrace!"
"What else would you call it, Eugenia? Wouldn't you be if you opened your Sunday paper and came upon a full page article about your nephew having got at the and a book-maker—having up a political meeting—having been for breach-of-promise by a . . ."
Mrs. Crocker her well-bred calm, but she was shaken. The to which her sister had were history, of the long-dead past, but it that they still in print. There and then she registered the to talk to her step-son James when she got of him in such a manner as would the Adam out of him for once and for all.
"And not only that," Mrs. Pett. "That would be in itself, but somehow the papers have that I am the boy's aunt. Two ago they printed my photograph with one of these articles. I they will always do it now. That is why I have come to you. It must stop. And the only way it can be to stop is by taking your step-son away from London where he is wild. Peter has most to give the boy a position in his office. It is very good of him, for the boy cannot in the nature of be of any use for a very long time, but we have talked it over and it the only course. I have come this to ask you to let us take James Crocker to America with us and keep him out of by him work. What do you say?"
Mrs. Crocker her eyebrows.
"What do you me to say? It is preposterous. I have anything so in my life."
"You refuse?"
"Of I refuse."
"I think you are foolish."
"Indeed!"
Mr. Pett in his chair. He was like a and peace-loving of a wild western who two for their hip-pockets. Neither his wife his sister-in-law paid any attention to him. The of a of the was in progress them. After some silent, age-long moments, Mrs. Crocker laughed a light laugh.
"Most extraordinary!" she murmured.
Mrs. Pett was in no mood for Anglicisms.
"You know perfectly well, Eugenia," she said heatedly, "that James Crocker is being here. For his sake, if not for mine—"
Mrs. Crocker laughed another light laugh, one of those which so much annoyance.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Nesta! Ruined! Really! It is true that, a long while ago, when he was much and not used to the of London Society, James was a little wild, but all that of thing is over now. He knows"—she paused, setting herself as it were for the punch—"he that at any moment the government may decide to give his father a Peerage . . ."
The home. A her sister.
"What!"
Mrs. Crocker two her mouth in order not to a yawn.
"Yes. Didn't you know? But of you live so out of the world. Oh yes, it is that Mr. Crocker's name will appear in the next Honours List. He is very of by the Powers. So naturally James is aware that he must in a manner. He is a dear boy! He was at by into the set, but now his friend is Lord Percy Whipple, the second son of the Duke of Devizes, who is one of the most men in the and a personal friend of the Premier."
Mrs. Pett was in shape under this rain of titles, but she herself to reply in kind.
"Indeed?" she said. "I should like to meet him. I have no he our great friend, Lord Wisbeach."
Mrs. Crocker was a little taken aback. She had not that her sister had this small in her locker.
"Do you know Lord Wisbeach?" she said.
"Oh yes," Mrs. Pett, to a little better. "We have been him every day. He always says that he looks on my house as a home. He so people in New York. It has been a great to him, I think, us."
Mrs. Crocker had had time now to her poise.
"Poor dear Wizzy!" she said languidly.
Mrs. Pett started.
"What!"
"I he is still the same dear, stupid, fellow? He left here with the of the world, and he has stopped in New York! How like him!"
"Do you know Lord Wisbeach?" Mrs. Pett.
Mrs. Crocker her eyebrows.
"Know him? Why, I suppose, after Lord Percy Whipple, he is James' most friend!"
Mrs. Pett rose. She was in defeat. She Ogden and Mr. Pett with an which Ogden see was not to be with. She no word.
"Must you go?" said Mrs. Crocker. "It was sweet of you to to come all the way from America like this. So to meet any one from America nowadays. Most extraordinary!"
The left the room in silence. Mrs. Crocker had touched the bell, but the did not wait for the of Bayliss. They were in no mood for the of Society. They wanted to be elsewhere, and they wanted to be there quick. The door had closed them the the morning-room.
"Bayliss," said Mrs. Crocker with happy, face, "send for the car to come at once."
"Very good, madam."
"Is Mr. James up yet?"
"I not, madam."
Mrs. Crocker to her room. If Bayliss had not been earshot, she would have a or two. Her to her step-son, though she had not her of speaking to him on when she of him. That, however, wait. For the moment, she in for a drive in the Park.
A minutes after she had disappeared, there was a of slow on the stairs, and a man came into the hall. Bayliss, who had to the for Mrs. Crocker's and was about to to those where he had his being, turned, and a of welcome played over his face.
"Good morning, Mr. James," he said.
