A Great Success | Page 2

love lectures--is capable of receiving from the report of one. Persons in the political world had relished its plain speaking; dames and counsellors of the Primrose League had read the praise with avidity, and skipped the criticism; while the mere men and women of letters had appreciated a style crisp, unhackneyed, and alive. The second lecture on "Lord George Bentinck" had been crowded, and the crowd had included several Cabinet Ministers, and those great ladies of the moment who gather like vultures to the feast on any similar occasion. The third lecture, on "Palmerston and Lord John"--had been not only crowded, but crowded out, and London was by now fully aware that it possessed in Arthur Meadows a person capable of painting a series of La Bruyère-like portraits of modern men, as vivid, biting, and "topical"--_mutatis mutandis_--as the great French series were in their day.
Applications for the coming lecture on "Lord Randolph" were arriving by every post, and those to follow after--on men just dead, and others still alive--would probably have to be given in a much larger hall than that at present engaged, so certain was intelligent London that in going to hear Arthur Meadows on the most admired--or the most detested--personalities of the day, they at least ran no risk of wishy-washy panegyric, or a dull caution. Meadows had proved himself daring both in compliment and attack; nothing could be sharper than his thrusts, or more Olympian than his homage. There were those indeed who talked of "airs" and "mannerisms," but their faint voices were lost in the general shouting.
"Wonderful!" said Doris, at last, looking up from the last of these epistles. "I really didn't know, Arthur, you were such a great man."
Her eyes rested on him with a fond but rather puzzled expression.
"Well, of course, dear, you've always seen the seamy side of me," said Meadows, with the slightest change of tone and a laugh. "Perhaps now you'll believe me when I say that I'm not always lazy when I seem so--that a man must have time to think, and smoke, and dawdle, if he's to write anything decent, and can't always rush at the first job that offers. When you thought I was idling--I wasn't! I was gathering up impressions. Then came an attractive piece of work--one that suited me--and I rose to it. There, you see!"
He threw back his Jovian head, with a look at his wife, half combative, half merry.
Doris's forehead puckered a little.
"Well, thank Heaven that it has turned out well!" she said, with a deep breath. "Where we should have been if it hadn't I'm sure I don't know! And, as it is--By the way, Arthur, have you got that packet ready for New York?" Her tone was quick and anxious.
"What, the proofs of 'Dizzy'? Oh, goodness, that'll do any time. Don't bother, Doris. I'm really rather done--and this post is--well, upon my word, it's overwhelming!" And, gathering up the letters, he threw himself with an air of fatigue into a long chair, his hands behind his head. "Perhaps after tea and a cigarette I shall feel more fit."
"Arthur!--you know to-morrow is the last day for catching the New York mail."
"Well, hang it, if I don't catch it, they must wait, that's all!" said Meadows peevishly. "If they won't take it, somebody else will."
"They" represented the editor and publisher of a famous New York magazine, who had agreed by cable to give a large sum for the "Dizzy" lecture, provided it reached them by a certain date.
Doris twisted her lip.
"Arthur, do think of the bills!"
"Darling, don't be a nuisance! If I succeed I shall make money. And if this isn't a success I don't know what is." He pointed to the letters on his lap, an impatient gesture which dislodged a certain number of them, so that they came rustling to the floor.
"Hullo!--here's one you haven't opened. Another coronet! Gracious! I believe it's the woman who asked us to dinner a fortnight ago, and we couldn't go."
Meadows sat up with a jerk, all languor dispelled, and held out his hand for the letter.
"Lady Dunstable! By George! I thought she'd ask us,--though you don't deserve it, Doris, for you didn't take any trouble at all about her first invitation--"
"We were engaged!" cried Doris, interrupting him, her eyebrows mounting.
"We could have got out of it perfectly. But now, listen to this:
"Dear Mr. Meadows,--I hope your wife will excuse my writing to you instead of to her, as you and I are already acquainted. Can I induce you both to come to Crosby Ledgers for a week-end, on July 16? We hope to have a pleasant party, a diplomat or two, the Home Secretary, and General Hichen--perhaps some others. You would, I am sure, admire our hill country, and I should like to show you