“Well, it’s–loud!”
“Could she pick a high note off the roof and hold it till the janitor came round to lock up the building for the night?”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Answer me this, woman, frankly. How is her high note? Pretty lofty?”
“Why, yes.”
“Then say no more,” said Archie. “Leave this to me, my dear old better four-fifths! Hand the whole thing over to Archibald, the man who never lets you down. I have a scheme!”
As Archie approached his suite on the following afternoon he heard through the closed door the drone of a gruff male voice; and, going in, discovered Lucille in the company of his brother-in-law. Lucille, Archie thought, was looking a trifle fatigued. Bill, on the other hand, was in great shape. His eyes were shining, and his face looked so like that of a stuffed frog that Archie had no difficulty in gathering that he had been lecturing on the subject of his latest enslaver.
“Hallo, Bill, old crumpet!” he said.
“Hallo, Archie!”
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” said Lucille. “Bill is telling me all about Spectatia.”
“Who?”
“Spectatia. The girl, you know. Her name is Spectatia Huskisson.”
“It can’t be!” said Archie, incredulously.
“Why not?” growled Bill.
“Well, how could it?” said Archie, appealing to him as a reasonable man. “I mean to say! Spectatia Huskisson! I gravely doubt whether there is such a name.”
“What’s wrong with it?” demanded the incensed Bill. “It’s a darned sight better name than Archibald Moffam.”
“Don’t fight, you two children!” intervened Lucille, firmly. “It’s a good old Middle West name. Everybody knows the Huskissons of Snake Bite, Michigan. Besides, Bill calls her Tootles.”
“Pootles,” corrected Bill, austerely.
“Oh, yes, Pootles. He calls her Pootles.”
“Young blood! Young blood!” sighed Archie.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk as if you were my grandfather.”
“I look on you as a son, laddie, a favourite son!”
“If I had a father like you–!”-“Ah, but you haven’t, young-feller- me-lad, and that’s the trouble. If you had, everything would be simple. But as your actual father, if you’ll allow me to say so, is one of the finest specimens of the human vampire-bat in captivity, something has got to be done about it, and you’re dashed lucky to have me in your corner, a guide, philosopher, and friend, full of the fruitiest ideas. Now, if you’ll kindly listen to me for a moment–”
“I’ve been listening to you ever since you came in.”
“You wouldn’t speak in that harsh tone of voice if you knew all! William, I have a scheme!”
“Well?”
“The scheme to which I allude is what Maeterlinck would call a lallapaloosa!”
“What a little marvel he is!” said Lucille, regarding her husband affectionately. “He eats a lot of fish, Bill. That’s what makes him so clever!”
“Shrimps!” diagnosed Bill, churlishly.
“Do you know the leader of the orchestra in the restaurant downstairs?” asked Archie, ignoring the slur.
“I know there IS a leader of the orchestra. What about him?”
“A sound fellow. Great pal of mine. I’ve forgotten his name–”
“Call him Pootles!” suggested Lucille.
“Desist!” said Archie, as a wordless growl proceeded from his stricken brother-in-law. “Temper your hilarity with a modicum of reserve. This girlish frivolity is unseemly. Well, I’m going to have a chat with this chappie and fix it all up.”
“Fix what up?”
“The whole jolly business. I’m going to kill two birds with one stone. I’ve a composer chappie popping about in the background whose one ambish. is to have his pet song sung before a discriminating audience. You have a singer straining at the leash. I’m going to arrange with this egg who leads the orchestra that your female shall sing my chappie’s song downstairs one night during dinner. How about it? Is it or is it not a ball of fire?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” admitted Bill, brightening visibly. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”
“Why not?”
“Well–”
“It’s a capital idea,” said Lucille. “Quite out of the question, of course.”
“How do you mean?”
“Don’t you know that the one thing Father hates more than anything else in the world is anything like a cabaret? People are always coming to him, suggesting that it would brighten up the dinner hour if he had singers and things, and he crushes them into little bits. He thinks there’s nothing that lowers the tone of a place more. He’ll bite you in three places when you suggest it to him!”