“Well, that rather set me thinking. As I say, I’d been getting restless doing nothing but just pottering round the pub all day. ‘Look here,’ I says, ‘I bet you I can bring off a job like that any day with any kid you like to mention.’ ‘Done!’ says Jimmy. So he opens a newspaper. ‘The first toff we find what’s got a’ only son,’ he says. ‘Right!’ says I. Well, about the first thing we found was a picture of Lady Circumference with her only son, Lord Tangent, at Warwick Races. ‘There’s your man,’ says Jimmy. And that’s what brought me here.”
“But, good gracious,” said Paul, “why have you told me this monstrous story? I shall certainly inform the police. I never heard of such a thing.”
“That’s all right,” said Philbrick. “The job’s off. Jimmy’s won his bet. All this was before I met Dina, see?”
“Dina?”
“Miss Diana. Dina I calls her, after a song I heard. The moment I saw that girl I knew the game was up. My heart just stood still. There’s a song about that, too. That girl,” said Philbrick, “could bring a man up from the depths of hell itself.”
“You feel as strongly as that about her?”
“I’d go through fire and water for that girl. She’s not happy here. I don’t think her dad treats her proper. Sometimes,” said Philbrick, “I think she’s only marrying me to get away from here.”
“Good heavens! Are you going to get married?”
“We fixed it up last Thursday. We’ve been going together for some time. It’s bad for a girl being shut away like that, never seeing a man. She was in a state she’d have gone with anybody until I come along, just housekeeping day in, day out. The only pleasure she ever got was cutting down the bills and dismissing the servants. Most of them leave before their month is up, anyway, they’re that hungry. She’s got a head on her shoulders, she has. Real business woman, just what I need at the Lamb.
“Then she heard me on the phone one day giving instructions to our manager at the Picture Theatre. That made her think a bit. A prince in disguise, as you might say. It was she who actually suggested our getting married. I shouldn’t have had the face to, not while I was butler. What I’d meant to do was to hire a car one day and come down with my diamond ring and buttonhole and pop the question. But there wasn’t any need for that. Love’s a wonderful thing.”
Philbrick stopped speaking and was evidently deeply moved by his recital. The door of the pavilion opened, and Mr. Prendergast came in.
“Well,” asked Paul, “how are the sports going?”
“Not very well,” said Mr. Prendergast; “in fact, they’ve gone.”
“All over?”
“Yes. You see, none of the boys came back from the first race. They just disappeared behind the trees at the top of the drive. I expect they’ve gone to change. I don’t blame them, I’m sure. It’s terribly cold. Still, it was discouraging launching heat after heat and none coming back. Like sending troops into battle, you know.”
“The best thing for us to do is to go back and change too.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Oh, what a day!”
Grimes was in the Common Room.
“Just back from the gay metropolis of Llandudno,” he said. “Shopping with Dingy is not a seemly occupation for a public-school man. How did the heats go?”
“There weren’t any,” said Paul.
“Quite right,” said Grimes; “you leave this to me. I’ve been in the trade some time. These things are best done over the fire. We can make out the results in peace. We’d better hurry. The old boy wants them sent to be printed this evening.”
And taking a sheet of paper and a small stub of pencil, Grimes made out the programme.
“How about that?” he said.
“Clutterbuck seems to have done pretty well,” said Paul.
“Yes, he’s a splendid little athlete,” said Grimes. “Now just you telephone that through to the printers, and they’ll get it done tonight. I wonder if we ought to have a hurdle race?”
“No,” said Mr. Prendergast.
VIII
The Sports
Happily enough, it did not rain next day, and after morning school everybody dressed up to the nines. Dr. Fagan appeared in a pale grey morning coat and sponge-bag trousers, looking more than ever jeune premier; there was a spring in his step and a pronounced sprightliness of bearing that Paul had not observed before. Flossie wore a violet frock of knitted wool made for her during the preceding autumn by her sister. It was the colour of indelible ink on blotting paper, and was ornamented at the waist with flowers of emerald green and pink. Her hat, also homemade, was the outcome of many winter evenings of ungrudged labour. All the trimmings of all her previous hats had gone to its adornment. Dingy wore a little steel brooch made in the shape of a bulldog. Grimes wore a stiff evening collar of celluloid.
“Had to do something to celebrate the occasion,” he said, “so I put on a ‘choker.’ Phew, though, it’s tight. Have you seen my fiancée’s latest creation? Ascot ain’t in it. Let’s get down to Mrs. Roberts for a quick one before the happy throng rolls up.”
“I wish I could, but I’ve got to go round the ground with the Doctor.”
“Righto, old boy! See you later. Here comes Prendy in his coat of many colours.”
Mr. Prendergast wore a blazer of faded stripes, which smelt strongly of camphor.
“I think Dr. Fagan encourages a certain amount of display on these occasions,” he said. “I used to keep wicket for my college, you know, but I was too shortsighted to be much good. Still, I am entitled to the blazer,” he said with a note of defiance in his voice, “and it is more appropriate to a sporting occasion than a
