The Rivet in Grandfathers Neck | Page 4

haven't a doubt that this Patricia
person will be quite as obstreperous. So, please mention it to her,
Agatha--casually, of course--that, in Lichfield, when one is partial to
either vocal exercise or amorous daliance, the proper scene of action is
the garden. I really cannot be annoyed by her."
"But, Rudolph," his sister protested, "you forget she is engaged to the

Earl of Pevensey. An engaged girl naturally wouldn't care about
meeting any young men."
"H'm!" said the colonel, drily.
Ensued a pause, during which the colonel lighted yet another cigarette.
Then, "I have frequently observed," he spoke, in absent wise, "that all
young women having that peculiarly vacuous expression about the
eyes--I believe there are misguided persons who describe such eyes as
being 'dreamy,'--are invariably possessed of a fickle, unstable and
coquettish temperament. Oh, no! You may depend upon it, Agatha, the
fact that she contemplates purchasing the right to support a peculiarly
disreputable member of the British peerage will not hinder her in the
least from making advances to all the young men in the neighborhood."
Miss Musgrave was somewhat ruffled. She was a homely little woman
with nothing of the ordinary Musgrave comeliness. Candor even
compels the statement that in her pudgy swarthy face there was a droll
suggestion of the pug-dog.
"I am sure," Miss Musgrave remonstrated, with placid dignity, "that
you know nothing whatever about her, and that the reports about the
earl have probably been greatly exaggerated, and that her picture shows
her to be an unusually attractive girl. Though it is true," Miss Musgrave
conceded after reflection, "that there are any number of persons in the
House of Lords that I wouldn't in the least care to have in my own
house, even with the front parlor all in linen as it unfortunately is. So
awkward when you have company! And the Bible does bid us not to
put our trust in princes, and, for my part, I never thought that
photographs could be trusted, either."
"Scorn not the nobly born, Agatha," her brother admonished her, "nor
treat with lofty scorn the well-connected. The very best people are
sometimes respectable. And yet," he pursued, with a slight hiatus of
thought, "I should not describe her as precisely an attractive-looking
girl. She seems to have a lot of hair,--if it is all her own, which it
probably isn't,--and her nose is apparently straight enough, and I gather

she is not absolutely deformed anywhere; but that is all I can
conscientiously say in her favor. She is artificial. Her hair, now! It has
a--well, you would not call it exactly a crinkle or precisely a wave, but
rather somewhere between the two. Yes, I think I should describe it as a
ripple. I fancy it must be rather like the reflection of a sunset in--a
duck-pond, say, with a faint wind ruffling the water. For I gather that
her hair is of some light shade,--induced, I haven't a doubt, by the
liberal use of peroxides. And this ripple, too, Agatha, it stands to reason,
must be the result of coercing nature, for I have never seen it in any
other woman's hair. Moreover," Colonel Musgrave continued, warming
somewhat to his subject, "there is a dimple--on the right side of her
mouth, immediately above it,--which speaks of the most frivolous
tendencies. I dare say it comes and goes when she talks,--winks at you,
so to speak, in a manner that must be simply idiotic. That foolish little
cleft in her chin, too--"
But at this point, his sister interrupted him.
"I hadn't a notion," said she, "that you had even looked at the
photograph. And you seem to have it quite by heart, Rudolph,--and
some people admire dimples, you know, and, at any rate, her mother
had red hair, so Patricia isn't really responsible. I decided that it would
be foolish to use the best mats to-night. We can save them for Sunday
supper, because I am only going to have eggs and a little cold meat, and
not make company of her."
For no apparent reason, Rudolph Musgrave flushed.
"I inspected it--quite casually--last night. Please don't be absurd,
Agatha! If we were threatened with any other direful visitation
--influenza, say, or the seventeen-year locust,--I should naturally read
up on the subject in order to know what to expect. And since
Providence has seen fit to send us a visitor rather than a
visitation--though, personally, I should infinitely prefer the influenza,
as interfering in less degree with my comfort,--I have, of course,
neglected no opportunity of finding out what we may reasonably look
forward to. I fear the worst, Agatha. For I repeat, the girl's face is, to
me, absolutely unattractive!"

The colonel spoke with emphasis, and flung away his cigarette, and
took up his hat to go.
And