II

So Mrs. Hauksbee, in ‘The Foundry’ which overlooks Simla Mall, sat at the feet of Mrs. Mallowe and gathered wisdom. The end of the Conference was the Great Idea upon which Mrs. Hauksbee so plumed herself.

‘I warn you,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, beginning to repent of her suggestion, ‘that the matter is not half so easy as it looks. Any woman—even the Topsham Girl—can catch a man, but very, very few know how to manage him when caught.’

‘My child,’ was the answer, ‘I’ve been a female St. Simon Stylites looking down upon men for these—these years past. Ask The Mussuck whether I can manage them.’

Mrs. Hauksbee departed humming, ‘I’ll go to him and say to him in manner most ironical.’ Mrs. Mallowe laughed to herself. Then she grew suddenly sober. ‘I wonder whether I’ve done well in advising that amusement? Lucy’s a clever woman, but a thought too careless.’

A week later the two met at a Monday Pop. ‘Well?’ said Mrs. Mallowe.

‘I’ve caught him!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee: her eyes were dancing with merriment.

‘Who is it, mad woman? I’m sorry I ever spoke to you about it.’

‘Look between the pillars. In the third row; fourth from the end. You can see his face now. Look!’

‘Otis Yeere! Of all the improbable and impossible people! I don’t believe you.’

‘Hsh! Wait till Mrs. Tarkass begins murdering Milton Wellings; and I’ll tell you all about it. S-s-ss! That woman’s voice always reminds me of an Underground train coming into Earl’s Court with the brakes on. Now listen. It is really Otis Yeere.’

‘So I see, but does it follow that he is your property!’

‘He is! By right of trove. I found him, lonely and unbefriended, the very next night after our talk, at the Dugald Delanes’ burra-khana. I liked his eyes, and I talked to him. Next day he called. Next day we went for a ride together, and to-day he’s tied to my ‘richshaw-wheels hand and foot. You’ll see when the concert’s over. He doesn’t know I’m here yet.’

‘Thank goodness you haven’t chosen a boy. What are you going to do with him, assuming that you’ve got him?’

‘Assuming, indeed! Does a woman—do I— ever make a mistake in that sort of thing? First’ —Mrs. Hauksbee ticked off the items ostentatiously on her little gloved fingers—‘First, my dear, I shall dress him properly. At present his raiment is a disgrace, and he wears a dress-shirt like a crumpled sheet of the Pioneer. Secondly, after I have made him presentable, I shall form his manners—his morals are above reproach.’

‘You seem to have discovered a great deal about him considering the shortness of your acquaintance.’

‘Surely you ought to know that the first proof a man gives of his interest in a woman is by talking to her about his own sweet self. If the woman listens without yawning, he begins to like her. If she flatters the animal’s vanity, he ends by adoring her.’