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Page 88
"I'd be obliged to you," he said, "if you could arrange, without putting
yourself out any, to change places with young Dod, there, as far as St.
Moritz. I have my reasons--but not necessarily for publication. See?"
Mr. Mafferton's eye glistened with appreciation of the confidence
reposed in him. "I shall be most happy," he said, "if Dod doesn't mind."
But Dicky, with indecent haste, was already in the _coup�_. "Don't
mention it, Mafferton," he said out of the window. "I'm delighted--at
least--whatever the Senator says has got to be done, of course," and he
made an attempt to look hurt that would not have imposed upon anybody
but a self-constituted Doge with a guilty conscience. I took my
bereavement in stony calm, with possibly just a suggestion about my
eyebrows and under-lip that some day, on the far free shores of Lake
Michigan, a downtrodden daughter would re-assert herself; poppa
re-entered an _int�rieur_ darkened by a thunder-cloud on the brow of his
Aunt Caroline; and we started.
It was some time before Mr. Mafferton interfered in the least with the
Engadine. He seemed wrapped in a cloud of vain imaginings, sprung,
obviously, from poppa's ill-considered request. I understood his
emotions and carefully respected his silence. I was unwilling to be
instructed about the Engadine either botanically or geologically--it was
more agreeable not to know the names of the lovely little foreign
flowers, and quite pleasant enough that every turn in the road showed us
a white mountain or a purple one without having to understand what it
was made of. Besides, I particularly did not wish to precipitate
anything, and there are moments when a mere remark about the weather
will do it. I had been suffering a good deal from my conscience since
Mrs. Portheris had told me that poppa had written to Arthur--I didn't
mind him enduring unnumbered pangs of hope deferred, but it was quite
another thing that he should undergo the unnecessary martyrdom of
imagining that he had been superseded by Dicky Dod. On reflection, I
thought it would be safer to start Mr. Mafferton on the usual lines, and
I nerved myself to ask him whether he could tell me anything about the
prehistoric appearance of these lovely mountains.
"I am glad," he responded absently, "that you admire my favourite Alps."
Nothing more. I tried to prick him to the consideration of the scenery
by asking him which were his favourite Alps, but this also came to
nothing. Having acknowledged his approval of the Alps, he seemed willing
to let them go unadorned by either fact or fancy. I offered him
sandwiches, but he seemed to prefer his moustache. Presently he roused
himself.
"I'm afraid you must think me very uninteresting, Miss Wick," he said.
"Dear me, no," I replied. "On the contrary, I think you are a lovely
type."
"Type of an Englishman?" Mr. Mafferton was not displeased.
"Type of some Englishmen. You would not care to represent the--ah,
commercial classes?"
"If I had been born in that station," replied Mr. Mafferton modestly, "I
should be very glad to represent them. But I should _not_ care to be a
Labour candidate."
"It wouldn't be very appropriate, would it?" I suggested. "But do you
ever mean to run for anything, really?"
"Certainly not," Mr. Mafferton replied, with slight resentment. "In our
family we never run. But, of course, I will succeed my uncle in the
Upper House."
"Dear me!" I exclaimed. "So you will! I should think it would be simply
lovely to be born a legislator. In our country it is attained by such
painful degrees." It flashed upon me in a moment why Mr. Mafferton was
so industrious in collecting general information. He was storing it up
against the day when he would be able to make speeches, which nobody
could interrupt, in the House of Lords.
The conversation flagged again, and I was driven to comment upon the
appearance of the little German down in the _int�rieur_. It was quite
remarkable, apart from the bloom on his nose, his pale-blue eyes
wandered so irresponsibly in their sockets, and his scanty, flaxen beard
made such an unsuccessful effort to disguise the amiability of his chin.
He wore a braided cotton coat to keep cool, and a woollen comforter to
keep warm, and from time to time he smilingly invited the attention of
the other three to vast green maps of the country, which I could see him
apologising for spreading over Mrs. Portheris's capacious lap. It was
interesting to watch his joyous sense of being in foreign society, and
his determination to be agreeable even if he had to talk all the time.
Now and then a sentence bubbled up over the noise of the wheels, as when
he had the happiness to discover the nationalities of his
fellow-travellers.
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