“Back, Caesar!” she teased. “We are not to drink yet. You are to sit down there; I will sit here. And then I will tell you all. I’ll confess.”
“Imp! Be serious, Bevy.”
“Never more so,” she said. “Now listen, Frank! It was this way. On board our steamer were a half-dozen Englishmen, old and young, and all of them handsome; at least, those with whom I flirted were handsome.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Cowperwood, tolerantly, and still a little dubiously. “And so?”
“Well, if you’re going to be as generous as all that, I’ll have to tell you that it was all flirtation in your behalf, and innocent, too, although you needn’t believe that. For instance, I found out about a little suburban place called Boveney on the Thames, not more than thirty miles from London. The most attractive young bachelor, Arthur Tavistock, told me about it. He lives there with his mother, Lady Tavistock. He’s sure I’d like her. And my mother likes him very much. So you see . . .”
“Well, I see we live at Boveney, Mother and I,” said Cowperwood, almost sarcastically.
“Precisely!” mocked Berenice. “And that’s another important point—you and Mother, I mean. From now on you’re going to have to pay a good deal of attention to her. And very little to me. Except as my guardian, of course,” and she tweaked his ear.
“In other words, Cowperwood, the guardian and family friend.” He smiled dryly.
“Exactly!” persisted Berenice. “And what’s more, I’m to go punting with Arthur very soon. And, better still,” and here she chuckled, “he knows of a lovely houseboat which will be ideal for Mother and me. And so, moonlight nights, or sunny afternoons around teatime, while my mother and his mother sit and crochet or walk in the garden, and you smoke and read, Arthur and I . . .”
“Yes, I know, a charming life together: houseboat, lover, spring, guardian, mother. Quite an ideal summer, in fact.”
“It couldn’t be better,” insisted Berenice vehemently. “He even described the awnings, red and green. And all of his friends.”
“Red and green, too, I suppose,” commented Cowperwood.
“Well, practically; flannels and blazers, you know. And all perfectly proper. He told Mother so. A host of friends to whom Mother and I are to be introduced.”
“And the wedding invitations?”
“By June, at the latest, I promise you.”
“May I give the bride away?”
“You could, of course,” replied Berenice, without a smile.
“By George!” and Cowperwood laughed loudly. “Quite a successful voyage, I must say!”
“You haven’t heard a fraction of it,” she went on blatantly, and almost contentiously. “Not a fraction! There’s Maidenhead—I blush to mention it——”
“You do? I’ll make a note of that.”
“I haven’t told you yet about Colonel Hawkesberry, of the Royal something-or-other,” she said, mock- foolishly. “One of those regiment things; knows a fellow officer who has a cousin who has a cottage in some park or other on the Thames.”
“Two cottages and two houseboats! Or are you seeing double?”
“At any rate, this one is rarely let. Vacant for almost the first time, this spring. And a perfect dream. Usually loaned to friends. But as for Mother and myself . . .”
“We now become the daughter of the regiment!”
“Well, so much for the colonel. Then there’s Wilton Braithwaite Wriothesley, pronounced Rotisly, with the most perfect little mustache, and six feet tall, and . . .”
“Now, Bevy! These intimacies! I’m getting suspicious!”
“Not of Wilton! Never, I swear! The colonel, maybe, but not Wilton!” She giggled. “Anyway, to make a long story five times as long, I already know of not only four houseboats along the Thames, but four perfectly appointed houses in or near the most exclusive residential squares of London, and all of them to be had for the season, or the year, or forever, if we should decide to stay here forever.”
“If you say so, darling,” interpolated Cowperwood. “But what a little actress you are!”
“And all of them,” continued Berenice, ignoring his admiring comment, “if I should trouble to give my London address—which I haven’t as yet—will be shown to me by one or all of my admirers.”
“Bravo! My word!” exclaimed Cowperwood.
“But no commitments as yet, and no entanglements, either,” she added. “But Mother and I have agreed to look at one in Grosvenor Square and one in Berkeley Square, after which, well, we shall see what we shall see.”
“But don’t you think you’d better consult your aged guardian as to the contract and all that sort of thing?”
“Well, as to the contract, yes, but as to all else . . .”
“As to all else, I resign, and gladly. I’ve done enough directing for one lifetime, and it will amuse me to see you try it.”
“Well, anyway,” she went on, quite impishly, “suppose you let me sit here,” and she seated herself in his lap, and reaching over to the table picked up the goblet of wine and proceeded to kiss the rim. “See, I am wishing into it.” She then drank half. “And now you wish,” she said, handing him the glass and watching him drink the remainder. “And now you must throw it over my right shoulder against the wall, so that no one will ever drink out of it again. It’s the way the Danes and the Normans did. Now . . .”
And Cowperwood threw the glass.
“Now, kiss me, and it will all come true,” she said. “For I am a witch, you know, and I make things come true.”
“I am prepared to believe that,” said Cowperwood affectionately, as he solemnly kissed her.
After dinner they discussed the matter of their immediate movements. He found Berenice strongly against any plans for leaving England at this time. It was spring, and she had always wanted to make a tour of the cathedral towns—Canterbury, York, Wells; visit the Roman baths at Bath; Oxford and Cambridge; and some of the old castles. They could make the trip together, but only, of course, after he had looked into the possibilities which were confronting him in connection with this London project. Incidentally, she would also like to inspect the cottages she had mentioned. And then, once placed, they could immediately begin their holiday together.
And now he must go in to see her mother, who was a little upset and brooding these days, fearing she scarcely knew what for all of them. And after that he was to come back to her, and then . . . and then . . .
Cowperwood gathered her up in his arms.
“Well, well, Minerva!” he said, “it may be possible to arrange things the way you want them. I don’t know. But one thing is sure: if there is too much of a hitch here, we’ll make a tour of the world. I will arrange with Aileen somehow. And if she won’t agree, well, then, we’ll go in spite of her. The publicity she’s always threatening can probably be overcome in some fashion. I’m sure of it. It has so far, anyway.”
He kissed her gently, and with great comfort to himself, and then went in to speak to Mrs. Carter, whom he found sitting near an open window, reading a novel by Marie Corelli. She was obviously dressed and coiffed for his coming, and bent on him a most optimistic smile. Nevertheless, he sensed a nervous speculation on her part as to the practicability and danger of all that he and Berenice were doing. In fact, he thought he saw strain and depression in her eyes. So after making a few remarks on the prospects for a pleasant spring in England for all of them, he quite casually, and yet most directly, added:
“And I wouldn’t worry about anything, Hattie, if I were you. Bevy and I understand each other perfectly. And I think she understands herself. She is brilliant and beautiful, and I love her. If any trouble comes, I think we can manage it. Try and have a good time. I’m likely to be very busy and so not able to see as much of you as I would like, but I’ll be on guard. And so will she. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I haven’t been worrying, Frank,” she said, almost apologetically. “Of course, I know how resourceful and determined Bevy is, and how much you have her interests at heart. And I do hope things go the way you want them. She’s just the person for you, Frank; so gifted and charming. I wish you could have seen her on the boat, how cleverly she managed to meet and entertain people. And yet, how she made them keep their place, too. Are you staying a while now? I’m glad. I’m slightly indisposed myself, but I’ll see you later, I hope.”
She walked to the door with him, her manner that of a hostess entertaining a distinguished guest, as indeed
