“That’s the tail,” said Adrian. “The trunk’s this end.”
“Oh,” said the judge. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a pair of lorgnettes which he put up to his eyes and peered through them with considerable interest at Rosy’s backside.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “It’s got hairs on the end.”
He walked round to the front and peered at Rosy through his lorgnettes.
“Fascinating,” he said. “Absolutely fascinating.”
“Well, come along,” said Sir Magnus impatiently bustling into the stable. “If we don’t get going we’ll miss the boat.”
So Adrian grasped Rosy’s ear and, followed by his retinue, led Rosy down to the docks. The voyage was uneventful except for sea shanties sung by Sir Magnus and the judge. When they landed at the other side the ladies were left with Lord Fenneltree and the others made haste to the station.
Here, by dint of much roaring and cajoling on the part of Sir Magnus, they eventually hitched an open wagon to the three forty-five to Monkspepper. Rosy entered it without any fuss whatsoever.
“Now,” said Sir Magnus, looking at the station master, “chairs, Bert, chairs.”
“Chairs, Sir Magnus?” said the station master, bewildered. “What sort of chairs?”
“Chairs, man. Out of the waiting-room,’ said Sir Magnus. “Something to sit on.”
“But aren’t you travelling in a compartment, Sir Magnus?” asked the station master.
“Of course not,” said Sir Magnus. “If this truck is good enough for Rosy, it’s good enough for me. All I want is a chair to sit on.”
The flurried station master procured a bench and two chairs from the waiting-room and these were installed alongside Rosy in the truck. Then Ethelbert, Mr. Pucklehammer and Adrian sat themselves down on the bench and Sir Magnus perched scowling on one chair and the judge on the other. Sir Magnus took a gigantic pinch of snuff, sneezed and said to the station master, “All right, Bert, you can let her go now.”
The fact that the train was already twenty minutes overdue and most of the passengers exceedingly restive had apparently escaped his attention. The station master, mopping his brow, blew a tremulous blast on his whistle, waved his green flag and the train shuffled and clanked and swayed its way out into the countryside.
It was a beautiful hot summer’s day and everywhere was green and gold and the sky was as blue an Siamese cat’s eye. It amazed Adrian that they could, in the short space of a couple of hours, whisk themselves across the many tedious miles of countryside that he had tramped with Rosy. They got out at the little country station for the village of Parson’s Farthing, and walked a mile and a half down the dusty road to the Unicorn and Harp.
“Darling boy,” said Ethelbert, round-eyed, “I had never realised the countryside was so big, and simply hundreds of leaves.”
“The leaves are much bigger in Papua,” said Mr. Filigree. “Very much bigger.” He stretched out his fat little arms in order to show how enormous the leaves had been.
“I don’t know about you,” said Sir Magnus to Mr. Pucklehammer, “but I feel a flagon of ale would come in very handy.”
“It always does,” said Mr. Pucklehammer. “It has been my experience in life that some things are handy and some aren’t, but you can’t go wrong with a flagon of ale.”
“Do you know,” said the judge, peering at Rosy, “without my glasses I still have difficulty in telling which end I’m looking at.”
“Which end of what?” asked Sir Magnus.
“Rosy,” said the judge.
“I do hope,” fluted Mr. Filigree, dancing up the mad, pigeon-toed, “that Samantha’s got something to eat. I know we have plenty to drink.”
“Well, as long as we’ve got plenty to drink,” said Sir Magnus, “I don’t see that it really matters. You don’t by any chance keep cherry brandy, do you?”
“Oh yes,” said Mr. Filigree. “As a matter of fact we have got rather a lot of it. I ordered three barrels once, but unfortunately nobody seemed to like it.”
“Just shows,” said Sir Magnus, taking snuff and sneezing, “people nowadays are lacking in good taste.”
At last they rounded the final corner and there was the Unicorn and Harp, like a friendly black and white cat squatting under its golden hat of thatch.
“Hurrah!” yelled Ethelbert exuberantly, the country air obviously having gone to his head. “We’ve arrived.”
At the sound of Ethelbert’s shrill cry, the door of the Unicorn and Harp opened and Lord Fenneltree and Samantha appeared.
“Have a good journey?” shouted his lordship.
“Splendid,” bellowed Sir Magnus waving his stick in greeting. “I have decided that it is more comfortable to travel in an open truck with an elephant than in a first-class carriage with a lot of bores.”
“Or sows, for that matter,” said the judge, and was convulsed with laughter.
“Sam, dear,” panted Mr. Filigree anxiously, “what about food?”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” said Samantha. “Lord Fenneltree has been exceptionally kind. We stopped on the way and he insisted on buying a lot of things for us to eat.”
She led the way round to the meadow at the back of the house and there they saw a long trestle-table that had been set up and covered with a snow-white cloth. it was groaning under the weight of food. There was a small platoon of cold roast pheasants, a dish full of plovers’ eggs, piles of scaly oysters, a gigantic sugar-cured ham, whose flesh was as delicately tender and pink as a sunset cloud, and a great saddle of cold roast beef which must have come from the biggest bullock in the country.
“This is extremely kind of you, Lord Fenneltree,” said Adrian, “Considering that I won the case.”
“Dear boy,” said his lordship earnestly. “I wouldn’t have provided it if you had lost the case, but I thought a light snack would help us all to recover from the journey.”
“My joy would be complete,” said Sir Magnus indistinctly through a mouthful of oysters and plover eggs, “if I could have a tiny splash of the cherry brandy which Mr. Filigree told us about.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Filigree, wiping pie crumbs from his mouth, and he danced into the house and reappeared with a small barrel. This was soon set up and Sir Magnus took up sentry duty beside it.
The shadows were lengthening across the emerald green grass and a sense of peace and goodwill settled over the whole company. Mr. Picklehammer, waving a large tankard of ale in time, was humming softly to himself. Black Nell, who had just recovered from an acute attack of hiccups, was reading Honoria’s palm and predicting a future career for her that even Sarah Bernhardt would have envied. Lord Fenneltree was lying on the grass apparently in a trance, staring up at the sky and listening to a long and complicated lecture on the law by the judge. Adrian sat opposite Samantha and watched the sunlight scattering itself through the leaves of the tree and dappling her copper-coloured hair. Presently the sight of her beauty was too much for him and he got up under the pretext of seeing how Rosy was doing, and went down to the barn.
Rosy had joined the party for a brief period, but when she found that the delicacies on the table did not appeal to her palate and that Adrian would not allow her to have more than three pints of beer, she, had wandered down to the barn to console herself with a pile of carrots and mangolds. Adrian marched into the barn and stood staring at bis great, grey protégée. She flashed him a quick took from her tiny twinkling eyes, flapped her ears and gave a small squeak of greeting.
“It’s all very well for you,” said Adrian bitterly, and started to pace up and down the barn feverishly. “You’re all right as long as you get enough to eat and all the booze you want. You are quite happy. But what about me? Have you ever considered me?”
He paused dramatically and looked at Rosy. Rosy’s stomach rumbled in a musical fashion and she put out her trunk and delicately touched Adrian’s hair.
“There she is, out there,” said Adrian, “as callous as anything. She gives me no encouragement at all. I really don’t think that we can stay here after all.”
Rosy gave a long sigh. Adrian resumed his pacing.
“Well, perhaps we could stay here for a day or so,” he said, the thought of being apart from Samantha again making him feel slightly sick. “What I cannot understand is what is the matter with her? One would think I had got you into all this trouble, instead of the other way round; and anyway, we are free now, so what’s all the fuss about?”
Rosy had placed a large mangold on the floor and was delicately rolling it to and fro with her forefoot, but she gave a small squeak just to show Adrian that she was paying attention.
“No,” said Adrian, firmly, “if we stay here, there must be a clear understanding. I am not going to be hounded by that ungrateful creature.”