“Sooner be called Doggie myself, old chap,” said Oliver.
He stepped back, smiling at them all – a handsome devil-may-care fellow, tall, tough and supple, his hands in the pockets of a sun-stained double-breasted blue jacket.
“We’re indeed glad to see you, my dear boy,” said the Dean, recovering equanimity; “but what have you been doing all this time? And where on earth have you come from?”
“I’ve just come from the South Seas. Arrived in London last evening. This morning I thought I’d come and look you up.”
“But if you had let us know you were coming, we should have met you at the station with the car. Where’s your luggage?”
He jerked a hand. “In the road. My man’s sitting on it. Oh, don’t worry about him,” he cried airily to the protesting Dean. “He’s well trained. He’ll go on sitting on it all night.”
“You’ve brought a man – a valet?” asked Peggy.
“It seems so.”
“Then you must be getting on.”
“I don’t think he turns you out very well,” said Doggie.
“You must really let one of the servants see about your things, Oliver,” said Mrs. Conover, moving towards the porch. “What will people say?”
He strode after her, and kissed her. “Oh, you dear old Durdlebury Aunt! Now I know I’m in England again. I haven’t heard those words for years!”
Mrs. Conover’s hospitable intentions were anticipated by the old butler, who advanced to meet them with the news that Sir Archibald’s car had been brought round. As soon as he recognized Oliver he started back, mouth agape.
“Yes, it’s me all right, Burford,” laughed Oliver. “How did I get here? I dropped from the moon.”
He shook hands with Burford, of whose life he had been the plague during his childhood, proclaimed him as hardy and unchanging as a gargoyle, and instructed him where to find man and luggage.
The Bruces and the two clerical tennis players departed. Marmaduke was for taking his leave too. All his old loathing of Oliver had suddenly returned. His cousin stood for everything he detested – swagger, arrogance, self-assurance. He hated the shabby rakishness of his attire, the self-assertive aquiline beak of a nose which he had inherited from his father, the Rector. He dreaded his aggressive masculinity. He had come back with the same insulting speech on his lips. His finger-nails were dreadful. Marmaduke desired as little as possible of his odious company. But his Aunt Sophia cried out:
“You’ll surely dine with us to-night, Marmaduke, to celebrate Oliver’s return?”
And Oliver chimed in, “Do! And don’t worry about changing,” as Doggie began to murmur excuses, “I can’t. I’ve no evening togs. My old ones fell to bits when I was trying to put them on, on board the steamer, and I had to chuck ’em overboard. They turned up a shark, who went for ’em. So don’t you worry, Doggie, old chap. You look as pretty as paint as you are. Doesn’t he, Peggy?”
Peggy, with a slight flush on her cheek, came to the rescue and linked her arm in Marmaduke’s.
“You haven’t had time to learn everything yet, Oliver; but I think you ought to know that we are engaged.”
“Holy Gee! Is that so? My compliments.” He swept them a low bow. “God bless you, my children!”
“Of course he’ll stay to dinner,” said Peggy; and she looked at Oliver as who should say, “Touch him at your peril: he belongs to me.”
So Doggie had to yield. Mrs. Conover went into the house to arrange for Oliver’s comfort, and the others strolled round the garden.
“Well, my boy,” said the Dean, “so you’re back in the old country?”
“Turned up again like a bad penny.”
The Dean’s kindly face clouded. “I hope you’ll soon be able to find something to do.”
“It’s money I want, not work,” said Oliver.
“Ah!” said the Dean, in a tone so thoughtful as just to suggest a lack of sympathy.
Oliver looked over his shoulder – the Dean and himself were preceding Marmaduke and Peggy on the trim gravel path. “Do you care to lend me a few thousands, Doggie?”
“Certainly not,” replied Marmaduke.
“There’s family affection for you, Uncle Edward! I’ve come half-way round the earth to see him, and – say, will you lend me a fiver?”
“If you need it,” said Marmaduke in a dignified way, “I shall be very happy to advance you five pounds.”
Oliver brought the little party to a halt and burst into laughter.
“I believe you good people think I’ve come back broke to the world. The black sheep returned like a wolf to the fold. Only Peggy drew a correct inference from the valet – wait till you see him! As Peggy said, I’ve been getting on.” He laid a light hand on the Dean’s shoulder. “While all you folks in Durdlebury, especially my dear Doggie, for the last ten years have been durdling, I’ve been doing. I’ve not come all this way to tap relations for five-pound notes. I’m swaggering into the City of London for Capital – with a great big C.”
Marmaduke twirled his little moustache. “You’ve taken to company promoting,” he remarked acidly.
“I have. And a damn – I beg your pardon, Uncle Edward – we poor Pacific Islanders lisp in damns for want of deans to hold us up – and a jolly good company too. We – that’s I and another man – that’s all the company as yet – two’s company, you know – own a trading fleet.”
“You own ships?” cried Peggy.
“Rather. Own ’em, sail ’em, navigate ’em, stoke ’em, clean out the boilers, sit on the safety valves when we want to make speed, do every old thing – ”
“And what do you trade in?” asked the Dean.
“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl – ”
“Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!” cried Peggy.
“We’ve got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. To work it properly we require capital. That’s why I’m here – to turn the concern into a limited company.”
“And where is this wonderful place?” asked the Dean.
“Huaheine.”
“What a beautiful word!”
“Isn’t it?” said Oliver. “Like the sigh of a girl in her sleep.”
The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; then took his arm and walked on, and looked at the vast mass of the cathedral and at the quiet English garden in its evening shadow.
“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine,” he murmured. “And these strange foreign things are the commonplaces of your life!”
Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She pressed his arm.
“I’m so glad you’re staying for dinner. I shouldn’t like to think you were running away from him.”
“I was only afraid of losing my temper and making a scene,” replied Doggie with dignity.
“His manners are odious,” said Peggy. “You leave him to me.”
Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him into view of the porch, stopped short.
“Goodness gracious!” he cried. “Who in the world is that?”
He pointed to a curious object slouching across the lawn; a short hirsute man wearing a sailor’s jersey and smoking a stump of a blackened pipe. His tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and great powerful hands protruded at the end of