“Utterly ridiculous!” said Mrs. Pett. “I certainly do not intend to alter my plans because of a trivial incident that happened years ago. We will sail on Wednesday.”
“Very well, my dear,” said Mr. Pett resignedly.
“Just as you say. Er–just you and I?”
“And Ogden, of course.”
Mr. Pett controlled a facial spasm with a powerful effort of the will. He had feared this.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving him here while I went away, after what happened when poor dear Elmer sent him to school in England that time.” The late Mr. Ford had spent most of his married life either quarrelling with or separated from his wife, but since death he had been canonised as ‘poor dear Elmer.’ “Besides, the sea voyage will do the poor darling good. He has not been looking at all well lately.”
“If Ogden’s coming, I’d like to take Ann.”
“Why?”
“She can–” he sought for a euphemism.
“Keep in order” was the expression he wished to avoid. To his mind Ann was the only known antidote for Ogden, but he felt it would be impolitic to say so.”–look after him on the boat,” he concluded. “You know you are a bad sailor.”
“Very well. Bring Ann–Oh, Peter, that reminds me of what I wanted to say to you, which this dreadful thing in the paper drove completely out of my mind. Lord Wisbeach has asked Ann to marry him!”
Mr. Pett looked a little hurt. “She didn’t tell me.” Ann usually confided in him.
“She didn’t tell me, either. Lord Wisbeach told me. He said Ann had promised to think it over, and give him his answer later. Meanwhile, he had come to me to assure himself that I approved. I thought that so charming of him.”
Mr. Pett was frowning.
“She hasn’t accepted him?”
“Not definitely.”
“I hope she doesn’t.”
“Don’t be foolish, Peter. It would be an excellent match.”
Mr. Pett shuffled his feet.
“I don’t like him. There’s something too darned smooth about that fellow.”
“If you mean that his manners are perfect, I agree with you. I shall do all in my power to induce Ann to accept him.”
“I shouldn’t,” said Mr. Pett, with more decision than was his wont. “You know what Ann is if you try to force her to do anything. She gets her ears back and won’t budge. Her father is just the same. When we were boys together, sometimes–”
“Don’t be absurd, Peter. As if I should dream of trying to force Ann to do anything.”
“We don’t know anything of this fellow. Two weeks ago we didn’t know he was on the earth.”
“What do we need to know beyond his name?”
Mr. Pett said nothing, but he was not convinced. The Lord Wisbeach under discussion was a pleasant-spoken and presentable young man who had called at Mr. Pett’s office a short while before to consult him about investing some money. He had brought a letter of introduction from Hammond Chester, Ann’s father, whom he had met in Canada, where the latter was at present engaged in the comparatively mild occupation of bass-fishing. With their business talk the acquaintance would have begun and finished, if Mr. Pett had been able to please himself, for he had not taken a fancy to Lord Wisbeach. But he was an American, with an American’s sense of hospitality, and, the young man being a friend of Hammond Chester, he had felt bound to invite him to Riverside Drive–with misgivings which were now, he felt, completely justified.
“Ann ought to marry,” said Mrs. Pett. “She gets her own way too much now. However, it is entirely her own affair, and there is nothing that we can do.” She rose. “I only hope she will be sensible.”
She went out, leaving Mr. Pett gloomier than she had found him. He hated the idea of Ann marrying Lord Wisbeach, who, even if he had had no faults at all, would be objectionable in that he would probably take her to live three thousand miles away in his own country. The thought of losing Ann oppressed Mr. Pett sorely.
Ann, meanwhile, had made her way down the passage to the gymnasium which Mr. Pett, in the interests of his health, had caused to be constructed in a large room at the end of the house–a room designed by the original owner, who had had artistic leanings, for a studio. The -tap-tap-tap- of the leather bag had ceased, but voices from within told her that Jerry Mitchell, Mr. Pett’s private physical instructor, was still there. She wondered who was his companion, and found on opening the door that it was Ogden. The boy was leaning against the wall and regarding Jerry with a dull and supercilious gaze which the latter was plainly finding it hard to bear.