at this point their conversation was interrupted by the lady's chauffeur in a manner that struck mr. brumley as extraordinary, but which the tall lady evidently regarded as the most natural thing in the world.
mr. clarence appeared walking across the lawn towards them, surveying the charms of as obviously a charming garden as one could have, with the disdain and hostility natural to a chauffeur. he did not so much touch his cap as indicate that it was within reach, and that he could if he pleased touch it. "it's time you were going, my lady," he said. "sir isaac will be coming back by the five-twelve, and there'll be a nice to-do if you ain't at home and me at the station and everything in order again."
manifestly an abnormal expedition.
"must we start at once, clarence?" asked the lady consulting a bracelet watch. "you surely won't take two hours——"
"i can give you fifteen minutes more, my lady," said clarence, "provided i may let her out and take my corners just exactly in my own way."
"and i must give you tea," said mr. brumley, rising to his feet. "and there is the kitchen."
"and upstairs! i'm afraid, clarence, for this occasion only you must—what is it?—let her out."
"and no 'oh clarence!' my lady?"
she ignored that.
"i'll tell mrs. rabbit at once," said mr. brumley, and started to run and trod in some complicated way on one of his loose laces and was precipitated down the rockery steps. "oh!" cried the lady. "mind!" and clasped her hands.
he made a sound exactly like the word "damnation" as he fell, but he didn't so much get up as bounce up, apparently in the brightest of tempers, and laughed, held out two earthy hands for sympathy with a mock rueful grimace, and went on, earthy-green at the knees and a little more carefully towards the house. clarence, having halted to drink deep satisfaction from this disaster, made his way along a nearly parallel path towards the kitchen, leaving his lady to follow as she chose to the house.
"you'll take a cup of tea?" called mr. brumley.
"oh! i'll take a cup all right," said clarence in the kindly voice of one who addresses an amusing inferior....
mrs. rabbit had already got the tea-things out upon the cane table in the pretty verandah, and took it ill that she should be supposed not to have thought of these preparations.
mr. brumley disappeared for a few minutes into the house.
he returned with a conscious relief on his face, clean hands, brushed knees, and his boots securely laced. he found lady harman already pouring out tea.
"you see," she said, to excuse this pleasant enterprise on her part, "my husband has to be met at the station with the car.... and of course he has no idea——"
she left what it was of which sir isaac had no idea to the groping speculations of mr. brumley.
