pg5247 [292]
"What a magnificent old watch!" said Lily, as they delved together in the lower recesses of the box. "AND the chain to it!"
"That was father's," said Constance. "He always used to swear by it.
When it didn't agree with the Town Hall, he used to say: 'Then th' Town
Hall's wrong.' And it's curious, the Town Hall WAS wrong. You know the
Town Hall clock has never been a good timekeeper. I've been thinking of
giving that watch and chain to Dick."
"HAVE you?" said Lily.
"Yes. It's just as good as it was when father wore it. My husband never would wear it. He preferred his own. He had little fancies like that. And Cyril takes after his father." She spoke in her 'dry' tone. "I've almost decided to give it to Dick—that is, if he behaves himself. Is he still on with this ballooning?"
Lily Smiled guiltily: "Oh yes!"
"Well," said Constance, "I never heard the like! If he's been up and come down safely, that ought to be enough for him. I wonder you let him do it, my dear."
"But how can I stop him? I've no control over him."
"But do you mean to say that he'd still do it if you told him seriously you didn't want him to?"
"Yes," said Lily; and added: "So I shan't tell him."
Constance nodded her head, musing over the secret nature of men. She remembered too well the cruel obstinacy of Samuel, who had nevertheless loved her. And Dick Povey was a thousand times more bizarre than Samuel. She saw him vividly, a little boy, whizzing down King Street on a boneshaker, and his cap flying off. Afterwards it had been motor-cars! Now it was balloons! She sighed. She was struck by the profound instinctive wisdom just enunciated by the girl.
"Well," she said, "I shall see. I've not made up my mind yet. What's the young man doing this afternoon, by the way?"
"He's gone to Birmingham to try to sell two motor-lorries. He won't be back home till late. He's coming over here to-morrow."
It was an excellent illustration of Dick Povey's methods that at this very moment Lily heard in the Square the sound of a motor-car, which happened to be Dick's car. She sprang up to look.
"Why!" she cried, flushing. "Here he is now!"
"Bless us, bless us!" muttered Constance, closing the box.
When Dick, having left his car in King Street, limped tempestuously into the drawing-room, galvanizing it by his abundant vitality into a new life, he cried joyously: "Sold my lorries! Sold my lorries!" And he explained that by a charming accident he had disposed of them to a chance buyer in Hanbridge, just before starting for Birmingham. So he had telephoned to Birmingham that the matter was 'off,' and then, being 'at a loose end,' he had come over to Bursley in search of his betrothed. At Holl's shop they had told him that she was with Mrs. Povey. Constance glanced at him, impressed by his jolly air of success. He seemed exactly like his breezy and self-confident advertisements in the Signal. He was absolutely pleased with himself. He triumphed over his limp—that ever-present reminder of a tragedy. Who would dream, to look at his blond, laughing, scintillating face, astonishingly young for his years, that he had once passed through such a night as that on which his father had killed his mother while he lay immovable and cursing, with a broken knee, in bed? Constance had heard all about that scene from her husband, and she paused in wonder at the contrasting hazards of existence.
Dick Povey brought his hands together with a resounding smack, and then rubbed them rapidly.
"AND a good price, too!" he exclaimed blithely. "Mrs. Povey, I don't mind telling you that I've netted seventy pounds odd this afternoon."
Lily's eyes expressed her proud joy.
"I hope pride won't have a fall," said Constance, with a calm smile out of which peeped a hint of a rebuke. "That's what I hope. I must just go and see about tea."
"I can't stay for tea—really," said Dick.
"Of course you can," said Constance, positively. "Suppose you'd been at
Birmingham? It's weeks since you stayed to tea."
"Oh, well, thanks!" Dick yielded, rather snubbed.
"Can't I save you a journey, Mrs. Povey?"