A Butterfly on the Wheel Part 15

"He doesn't care a fig about getting us into this mess. What excellent bacon they have here!" Lord Ellerdine went on.

Again Collingwood got the better of his rising temper. "Oh, you'll be all right, d.i.c.ky," he said, "when we get to St. Moritz to-morrow."

"We're not going," Lady Attwill said shortly.

Collingwood started. "We are," he said.

"Wrong, my boy," said Lady Attwill again. "Peggy is going back."

"Back! Back where?"

"To London."

"She doesn't mean it?" Collingwood said, putting down his fork and looking straight at Lady Attwill.

She nodded at him, and he knew that what she said was true.

"There you are!" piped out in Lord Ellerdine's voice. "I knew it; I felt it in my bones all the time I was in that beastly train. Peggy's got the hump. You have spoilt the whole show, Colling. I can't eat any more."

He pushed his chair away from the table with a perplexed and angry face, and began to walk up and down the room.

"Hang it!" Collingwood said, "is this the first time that anyone got on the wrong train?"

"No, it is not," Ellerdine answered shortly. "But it is the first time it has happened to _Peggy_. Anybody but _Peggy_."

"It seems to me," Collingwood said, "that we are making a lot of unnecessary fuss."

"Yes; let's drop it," came from Lady Attwill.

"Alice," Lord Ellerdine persisted, "don't you agree with me?"

She sighed, but it was necessary to preserve appearances. "Well, d.i.c.ky,"

she said, "Peggy has not shown a tenacious desire to observe the strict letter of every propriety. I know that there has been nothing wrong.

Absolutely nothing but little frisks and frolics now and then--quite all right actually--looking perhaps worse than they were--nothing else. But, after all, it is not what you do; the trouble of it is what other folks say you do."

The persistent moralist was not to be put off. "The married woman," he said, in a voice as near to a pulpit manner as he could get, "cannot afford to have anyone say a word. Look at Alice. Before Attwill kicked the bucket she lived in a gla.s.s case. Didn't you, Alice?"

Collingwood chuckled: not merrily at all, but with a rather nasty cynicism--a sn.i.g.g.e.r, in fact.

"Look here, d.i.c.ky," he said, "if you don't stop your sickening habit of preaching left-handed morality at me I'll give you up. I can't stand it.

I am _not_ moral--don't know the first thing about it--never met anybody who did. Man is not moral; environment makes it impossible. You're not moral, d.i.c.ky, although you may think you are. And as for society, it is absolutely unmoral."

"I say! I say! I say! Listen to our future Home Secretary!" said Lord Ellerdine.

"No fear," Collingwood answered. "I leave that field to Admaston and the other cackling crew of humbugs."

Lady Attwill laughed amusedly, and Ellerdine was about to say something else, when the door opened and Peggy entered.

She was very simply but very expensively dressed in an exquisite walking-dress of a colour which was neither grey nor amethyst, but a cunning blend of both. At her breast she wore a little sprig of white lilac. There was a sudden silence as she entered, a silence almost as if the three people were conspirators.

Peggy walked briskly up to the table, nodding and smiling. "Well, you're a nice lot," she said. "Why didn't you tell me breakfast was ready? I have been dying for a cup of coffee. Anything good in the food line?

Something smells good. What is it? Mushrooms--just the very thing! I like mushrooms. Remind one of early risings and misty mornings. How are you, d.i.c.ky? Alice, give me some coffee, there's a dear. h.e.l.lo, Colling!

any news?"

Her chatter was more general than addressed to any particular person, and she didn't seem to require any answer to her questions. At anyrate, n.o.body made any answer, and there was an uncomfortable silence as Peggy began her breakfast.

"You're a jolly lot," she said after a minute or so. "What's up with you all? These mushrooms are nice. d.i.c.ky, pa.s.s the toast. What? I thought you said something, Alice."

Lady Attwill shook her head. "No," she answered in a rather strained voice.

There was another silence. Suddenly Peggy put down her knife and fork with a little clatter and rose from her chair. "This room is horribly stuffy," she said, going to the window. "There, that's better. Oh! what a lovely morning! Dear old Paris! how I do love it!"

She seemed restless and unable to remain long in one position, and soon she had fluttered back to the breakfast-table.

"Alice," she said, "please pour me out another cup of coffee.--Well, d.i.c.ky, I put my foot into it nicely last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, you jolly well did," Lord Ellerdine answered shortly.

"I knew what you wanted to talk about, d.i.c.ky," she said.

Collingwood interposed. "Peggy, don't go on like that. I have explained it to d.i.c.ky."

"Were you quite the one to explain?" she asked.

"Well," Collingwood replied, "it was my fault I rushed you into the train."

Lord Ellerdine started. Something already beginning to be familiar had penetrated his consciousness. "We all got on the wrong train," he said.

"Oh! All?" Peggy asked.

"Yes," said the diplomatist--"yes--no--that's what we're going to say."

"To whom?" asked Peggy.

"Well--well--to--well, to anyone who wants to know."

"Who should want to know?" Peggy asked.

"Oh, no one, Peggy," said Lady Attwill; "but it's best to be prepared, you know."

"But I don't know. Why should I know? Be prepared for what?"

"Nothing, dear, absolutely nothing. Only, some chatty fool might ask."

"Ask what?"

"Well--awkward questions."