He was a man who rather prided himself upon neglecting his appearance,and,so far as the cut and pattern of his clothes went,he usually suggested the artisan out for a holiday.To-day for the first time he regarded his toilet with critical and disparaging eyes.He found the pattern of his tweed suit too large,and the colour too pronounced,his collars were old-fashioned and his ties hideous.It was altogether a new experience with him,this self-dissatisfaction and sensitiveness to criticism,which at any other time he would have regarded with a sort of insolent indifference.He remembered his walk westward yesterday with a shudder,as though indeed it had been a sort of nightmare,and wondered whether she too had regarded him with the eyes of those loungers on the pavement -whether she too was one of those who looked for a man to conform to the one arbitrary and universal type.
Finally he tied his necktie with a curse,and went down to breakfast with little of his good-humour left.
The fresh air sweeping in through the long,open windows,the glancing sunlight and the sense of *******,for which the absence of his guests was certainly responsible,soon restored his spirits.
Blest with an excellent morning appetite -the delightful heritage of a clean life -he enjoyed his breakfast and thoroughly appreciated his cook's efforts.If he needed a sauce,Fate bestowed one upon him,for he was scarcely midway through his meal before a loud ringing at the lodge gates proved the accuracy of his conjectures.Mr.Da Souza had purchased a morning paper at the junction,and their host's perfidy had become apparent.Obviously they had decided to treat the whole matter as a practical joke and to brave it out,for outside the gates in an open fly were the whole party.They had returned,only to find that according to Trent's orders the gates were closed upon them.
Trent moved his seat to where he could have a better view,and continued his breakfast.The party in the cab looked hot,and tumbled,and cross.Da Souza was on his feet arguing with the lodge-keeper -the women seemed to be listening anxiously.Trent turned to the servant who was waiting upon him.
"Send word down,"he directed,"that I will see Mr.Da Souza alone.
No one else is to be allowed to enter.Pass me the toast before you go."Da Souza entered presently,apologetic and abject,prepared at the same time to extenuate and deny.Trent continued his breakfast coolly.
"My dear friend!"Da Souza exclaimed,depositing his silk hat upon the table,"it is a very excellent joke of yours.You see,we have entered into the spirit of it -oh yes,we have done so indeed!
We have taken a little drive before breakfast,but we have returned.
You knew,of course,that we would not dream of leaving you in such a manner.Do you not think,my dear friend,that the joke was carried now far enough?The ladies are hungry;will you send word to the lodge-keeper that he may open the gate?"Trent helped himself to coffee,and leaned back in his chair,stirring it thoughtfully.
"You are right,Da Souza,"he said."It is an excellent joke.The cream of it is too that I am in earnest;neither you nor any of those ladies whom I see out there will sit at my table again.""You are not in earnest!You do not mean it!""I can assure you,"Trent replied grinning,"that I do!""But do you mean,"Da Souza spluttered,"that we are to go like this -to be turned out -the laughing-stock of your servants,after we have come back too,all the way?-oh,it is nonsense!
It's not to be endured!"
"You can go to the devil!"Trent answered coolly."There is not one of you whom I care a fig to see again.You thought that I was ruined,and you scudded like rats from a sinking ship.Well,Ifound you out,and a jolly good thing too.All I have to say is now,be off,and the quicker the better!"Then Da Souza cringed no longer,and there shot from his black eyes the venomous twinkle of the serpent whose fangs are out.He leaned over the table,and dropped his voice.
"I speak,"he said,"for my wife,my daughter,and myself,and Iassure you that we decline to go!"
