Lady Maude's Mania Part 30

"Nonsense!" he said, "a fellow must do something to keep off the blues."

"Yes; smoke in bed."

"I shouldn't if I was married. If I had a wife now--"

"Married!" said Tryphie, "without any money, sir! What would you do?

Keep a billiard table or open a cigar shop? I suppose I might sit behind the counter--"

"Go it," said Tom. "How down you are on a fellow."

"While my little liege lord wore his elegant shawl-pattern smoking trousers, dressing-gown and cap, and showed his prowess to customers at the billiard table."

"Little, eh?" said Tom. "Well, I am little, but you must have some little fellows in the world, to sort up with. We can't all be great handsome black chaps like Captain Bellman."

"Captain Bellman is not always smoking."

"I don't care, I'm getting reckless. I own it all: I do go to sleep with a cigar in my mouth. I can smoke as many cigars for my size as any man in London and there are not many men who can beat me at billiards."

"How is the new cue, Tom?" said Tryphie, mockingly.

"All right," he said. "I tried it last night at the rooms, and played a game with an uncommonly gentlemanly Frenchman, who made the most delicious little cigarettes. I thought I'd met him before. Who do you think it was?"

"Don't know, and--"

"Don't care, eh? Well, it was Launay the barber."

"Tom!"

"Well, I don't care; home's wretched and I'm miserable. Besides, other people enjoy seeing me so. Maude is always going about the house like a ghost, or listening to that organ man. She's going mad, I fancy. Then Charley Melton has turned out a fool to cave in as he has done, and Tryphie cuts me--"

"As you deserve."

"That's right, go it. The governor's miserable, and that mummy Wilters is always here. Nice place to stop in. Perhaps I ought to aim higher than billiards, and keeping one's cue in a j.a.panned case hanging up in a public room. But look at me; hang it, I hardly get a s.h.i.+lling, if I don't have some fellow at billiards. What have I to look forward to?"

Tryphie made a movement to continue her way, but Tom spread his hands so as to stop her descent.

"Will you have the goodness to allow me to pa.s.s, Lord Diphoos?" she said, demurely.

"_Lord_!" he cried, peevishly.

"Very well, then, most spoiled child of the house," said Tryphie, maliciously, "Master Diphoos."

"You make my life quite miserable, Tryphie, you do, 'pon my honour.

You're the most ungracious--"

"There's pretty language to use to a lady, sir," cried Tryphie, speaking as if in an angry fit. "Say I'm the most disgraceful at once, sir."

"Oh, I didn't mean that," said Tom; "I meant ungracious and unyielding."

"Of course, sir. Pretty words to apply to a lady."

"Bother!" cried Tom. "I never looked upon you as a lady."

"Thank you, sir," she said, making him a most profound curtsey.

"Well, you know what I mean," grumbled Tom; "I always think of you as Cousin Tryphie, whom I--there," he whispered, "I will say it--I love with all my heart."

"Bos.h.!.+" exclaimed Tryphie.

"There's pretty language to use to a gentleman," retorted Tom.

"I never look upon you as a gentleman," said Tryphie in her turn; and she darted a mischievous look at him.

"Thank you, ma'am," said Tom, who was now quite out of heart and temper.

"And so you go on snub, snub, peck, peck, till a fellow feels as if he would like to make a hole in the water, he's so sick of his life."

"But he only makes a hole in his manners instead," cried Tryphie.

"I say, Tryphie, you know," cried Tom, now appealingly. "Don't be so jolly hard on a fellow who loves you as I do. I can't bear it when you snub me so. I say, dear," he continued, taking her hand, "say a kind word to me."

"Let go my hand, sir, and don't be stupid," she cried.

"Tryphie!"

"Well, Tom! Now look here, I've got to be so that I can hardly believe in there being such a thing as sincerity in the world, after what I've seen in this house: but all the same I do think you mean what you say."

"Thankye, Tryphie; that's the kindest thing you've said to me for months," said Tom.

"Stop a bit, sir, and listen. I was going to say--"

"No, don't say any more, dear," cried Tom, imploringly. "You've said something kind to me, and I shall go and get fat on that for a month."

"Listen to me, sir," cried Tryphie, unable to repress a smile--"I was going to say--Do you think I am going to promise to marry an idle, thoughtless, selfish man, with only two ideas in his head?"

"Two?" said Tom, dolefully. "No, you're wrong. I've only got one."

"I say two, sir--cigars and billiards. Do you think I want to marry a chimney-pot, or an animated cue?"

"Chimney-pot! Animated cue!" said Tom, with a groan, as he took off his little scarlet smoking-cap, and wrung it in his hands as if it were wet.

"Let me see, sir, that you've got some energy in you as well as good sincere feeling, before you speak to me again, if you please."

"I may speak to you again, then?" cried Tom.

"Of course you may," said Tryphie, tartly.

"And then?" cried Tom.