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Page 64
"So you usually ordered a chop?" I said by way of resuming the
conversation. "I hope the chops were tender."
(I have a vague recollection that my intonation was.)
"There are worse things in the States than the mutton," replied Mr.
Mafferton, moving his chair to enable him, by twisting his neck not too
ostentatiously, to glance occasionally at Dicky and Isabel, "but the
steaks were distinctly better than the chops--distinctly."
"So all connoisseurs say," I replied respectfully. "Would you like to
change seats with me? I don't mind sitting with my back to--Vesuvius."
Mr. Mafferton blushed--unless it was the glow from the volcano.
"Not on my account," he said. "By any means."
"You do not fear a demonstration," I suggested. "And yet the forces of
nature are very uncertain. That is your English nerve. It deserves all
that is said of it."
Mr. Mafferton looked at me suspiciously.
"I fancy you must be joking," he said.
He sometimes complained that the great bar to his observation of the
American character was the American sense of humour. It was one of the
things he had made a note of, as interfering with the intelligent
stranger's enjoyment of the country.
"I suppose," I replied reproachfully, "you never pause to think how
unkind a suspicion like that is? When one _wishes_ to be taken
seriously."
"I fear I do not," Mr. Mafferton confessed. "Perhaps I jump rather
hastily to conclusions sometimes. It's a family trait. We get it through
the Warwick-Howards on my mother's side."
"Then, of course, there can't be any objection to it. But when one knows
a person's opinion of frivolity, always to be thought frivolous by the
person is hard to bear. Awfully."
And if my expression, as I gazed past this Englishman at Vesuvius, was
one of sad resignation, there was nothing in the situation to exhilarate
anybody.
The impassive countenance of Mr. Mafferton was disturbed by a ray of
concern. The moonlight enabled me to see it quite clearly. "Pray, Miss
Wick," he said, "do not think that. Who was it that wrote----"
"A little humour now and then
Is relished by the wisest men."
"I don't know," I said, "but there's something about it that makes me
think it is English in its origin. Do you _really_ endorse it?"
"Certainly I do. And your liveliness, Miss Wick, if I may say so, is
certainly one of your accomplishments. It is to some extent a racial
characteristic. You share it with Mr. Dod."
I glanced in the direction of the other two. "They seem desperately
bored with each other," I said. "They are not saying anything. Shall we
join them?"
"Dod is probably sulking because I am monopolising you. Mrs. Portheris,
you see, has let me into the secret"--Mr. Mafferton looked _very_
arch--"By all means, if you think he ought to be humoured."
"No," I said firmly, "humouring is very bad for Dicky. But I don't think
he should be allowed to wreak his ill-temper on Isabel."
"I have noticed a certain lack of power to take the initiative about
Miss Portheris," said Mr. Mafferton coldly, "especially when her mother
is not with her. She seems quite unable to extricate herself from
situations like the present."
"She is so young," I said apologetically, "and besides, I don't think
you could expect her to go quite away and leave us here together, you
know. She would naturally have foolish ideas. She doesn't know anything
about our irrevocable Past."
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