A Safety Match

  CHAPTER SIX.

  DAPHNE AS MATCHMAKER.

  Juggernaut's stay at the Rectory had been prolonged for more thanthree weeks, the business upon which he was engaged being as easilydirected, so he said, from Brian Vereker's study as from his ownLondon offices. An unprejudiced observer might have been forgiven forremarking that to all appearances it could have been directed withequal facility from the Two-penny Tube or the North Pole; for if weexcept a prolonged interview with Lord Kirkley's land agent on thesecond day after his arrival, Juggernaut's activities had been limitedto meditative contemplation of the Rector's spring flowers and somerather silent country walks in company with the lady to whom theRector was wont to refer to in his playful moments as "my elderly uglydaughter."

  Whether Daphne's impulsive protest against the desecration of herbeloved Tinkler's Den carried weight, or whether that sylvan spot wasfound wanting in combustible properties, will never be known; but itmay be noted here that Lord Kirkley was advised that there was nomoney in his scheme, and Snayling remains an agricultural centre tothis day.

  However, if it be a fact that no fresh experience can be altogethervalueless, Juggernaut's time was certainly not wasted. He was absorbedinto the primitive civilisation of Snayling Rectory. He was initiatedinto tribal custom and usage, and became versed in a tribal languageconsisting chiefly of abbreviations and portmanteau words. He wasinstructed in the principles which underlie such things as precedencein the use of the bath and helpings at dinner. He also studied withinterest the fundamental laws governing the inheritance of out-growngarments. Having been born without brothers and sisters, he foundhimself confronted for the first time with some of those sternrealities and unavoidable hardships which prevail when domestic supplyfalls short of domestic demand. The mystic phrase "F. H. B.!" forinstance, with which Daphne had laid inviolable taboo upon the trifleon the day of his arrival, he soon learned stood for "Family, holdback!"

  Again, if Master Stephen Blasius Vereker suggested to Miss VeronicaElizabeth Vereker that a B. O. at the T. S. would be an L. B. ofA. R.; to which the lady replied gently but insistently, "Is itE. P.?" Juggernaut was soon able to understand that in response to anintimation on the part of her brother that a Blow Out at the Tuck Shopwould be a Little Bit of All Right, the cautious and mercenary damselwas inquiring whether her Expenses would be Paid at the forthcomingorgy. If Stiffy continued, "Up to 2 D.," and Nicky replied, "If youcan't make it a tanner, Stiffy, darling, je pense _ne_!" the visitorgathered without much difficulty that in the opinion of Miss Veronicano gentleman worthy of the name should presume to undertake theentertainment of a lady under a minimum outlay of sixpence.

  Juggernaut soon settled down to the ways of the establishment. He saidlittle, but it was obvious, even to the boys, that he was taking agood deal in. He seldom asked questions, but he possessed an uncannyknack of interpreting for himself the most secret signs and crypticexpressions of the community. This established for him a claim to thefamily's respect, and in acknowledgment of the good impression he hadcreated he was informally raised from the status of honoured guest tothat of familiar friend. What the Associated Body of Colliery Ownerswould have thought if they could have seen their chairman meeklytaking his seat at the breakfast-table, what time the family,accompanying themselves with teaspoons against teacups, chanted abrief but pointed ditty consisting entirely of the phrase "pom-pom!"repeated _con amore_ and _sforzando_ until breathlessnessintervened--an ordeal known at the Rectory as "pom-pomming," andinflicted daily upon the last to appear at breakfast--is hard to say.Mr Montague for one would have enjoyed it.

  Only once did this silent and saturnine man exhibit any flash offeeling. One morning before breakfast Daphne, busy in theknife-and-boot shed at the back of the house, heard a step on thegravel outside, and Juggernaut stood before her.

  "Good-morning!" she said cheerfully. "Excuse my get-up. I expect Ilook rather a ticket."

  Juggernaut surveyed her. She wore a large green baize apron. Her skirtwas short and business-like, and her sleeves were rolled up above theelbow. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head.Plainly her toilet had only reached the stage of the _petit lever_.She was engaged in the healthful but unfashionable occupation ofblacking boots; _per contra_, what Juggernaut chiefly noted was thewhiteness of her arms. Finally his eye wandered to the boot in whichher left hand was engulfed.

  "Whose boot is that?" he asked.

  "Yours, I should say. Dad's are square in the toes."

  Next moment a large and sinewy hand gripped her by the wrist, and theboot was taken from her.

  "Understand," said Apollyon, looking very like Apollyon indeed, "thismust never occur again. I am angry with you."

  He spoke quite quietly, but there was a vibrant note in his voicewhich Daphne had never heard before. Mr Tom Winch and Mr Montaguewould have recognised it. She looked up at him fearlessly, ratherinterested than otherwise in this new side of his character.

  "I can't quite grasp why you _should_ be angry," she said, "though Ican see you are. Not being millionaires, we all clean our ownboots--excepting Dad, of course. I always do his. You being a visitor,I threw yours in as a make-weight. It's all in the day's work."

  But Juggernaut's fit had passed.

  "I beg your pardon," he said. "I have no right to be angry with anyone but myself. I am ashamed. I should have thought about this sooner,but I accepted your assurance that my visit would throw no extraburden upon the household rather too readily. Now, for the rest of thetime I am here I propose, with your permission, to black my own boots.And as a sort of compensation for the trouble I have caused, I amgoing to black my hostess's as well."

  "Do you know _how_ to?" inquired the hostess, rather apprehensively.

  For answer Juggernaut picked up a laced shoe from off the bench andset to work upon it.

  "I once blacked my own boots every day for two years," he said,breathing heavily upon the shoe. "Now, if you want to go in andsuperintend the preparation of breakfast, you may leave me here, and Iwill undertake to produce the requisite standard of brilliancy." Hisface lit up with one of his rare and illuminating smiles, and he setgrimly to work again.

  Daphne hesitated for a moment, and surveyed her guest doubtfully. Hewas burnishing her shoe in a manner only to be expected of anintensely active man who has been utterly idle for a fortnight. Hisface was set in the lines which usually appeared when he was drivingbusiness through a refractory meeting. Daphne turned and left theboot-house, unpinning her apron and whistling softly.

  Juggernaut finished off her shoes with meticulous care, and puttingthem back upon the bench turned his attention to his own boots. Buthis energy was plainly flagging. Several times his hand was stayed,and his eye wandered in the direction of his hostess's shoes. Theywere a remarkably neat pair. Daphne was proud of her feet--they wereher only real vanity--and she spent more upon her boots and shoesthan the extremely limited sum voted for the purpose by herconscience. More than once Juggernaut laid aside his own property andreturned to the highly unnecessary task of painting the lily--if sucha phrase can be applied to the efficient blacking of a shoe. Finallyhe picked up his boots and departed, to endure a pom-pomming of themost whole-hearted description on his appearance at the breakfasttable.

  But henceforth he found his way to the boot-house every morning atseven-thirty, where, despite his hostess's protests, he grimly carriedout his expressed intention.

  This was the only occasion, however, on which he asserted his willwith Daphne. In all else she found him perfectly amenable. Hepermitted her without protest to overhaul his wardrobe, and submittedmeekly to a scathing lecture upon the negligence apparent in theperforated condition of some of his garments and the extravaganceevinced by the multiplicity of others. In short, Daphne adoptedJuggernaut, as only a young and heart-whole girl can whose experienceof men so far has been purely domestic. She felt like his mother. Toher he was a child of the largest possible growth, who, not havingenjoyed such advantages as she had all her life bestow
ed upon the restof the flock, must needs be treated with twofold energy and specialconsideration. He was her Benjamin, she felt.

  * * * * *

  Juggernaut was to depart to-morrow. His socks were darned. Items ofhis wardrobe, hitherto anonymous, were neatly marked with hisinitials. His very pocket-handkerchiefs were numbered.

  "You are sending me back to work thoroughly overhauled and refitted,"he said to Daphne, as she displayed, not without pride, his renovatedgarments laid out upon the spare bed. "I feel like a cruiser comingout of dry dock."

  "Well, don't get your things in that state again," said Daphneseverely--"that's all! Who looks after them?"

  "My man."

  "He ought to be ashamed of himself, then. By the way, there is a dresswaistcoat of yours with two buttons off. Can I _trust_ you, now, toget them put on again, or had I better keep the waistcoat until I canget buttons to match?"

  "You are very good," said Juggernaut, bowing before the storm.

  "That's settled, then. Where shall I send it to?"

  Juggernaut thought, and finally gave the address of a club in PallMall.

  "Club--do you live in a _club_?" inquired Daphne, with a woman'sinstinctive dislike for such a monastic and impregnable type ofdomicile.

  "Sometimes. It saves trouble, you see," said Juggernautapologetically. "My house in town is shut at present. I spend a gooddeal of time in the north."

  "Where do you live when you are in the north?" inquired Daphne, withthe healthy curiosity of her age and sex.

  "I have another house there," admitted Juggernaut reluctantly. "It iscalled Belton."

  "How many houses have you got altogether?" asked Daphne, in thepersuasive tones of a schoolmaster urging a reticent culprit to make aclean breast of it and get it over like a man.

  "I have a little place in the Highlands," said Juggernaut humbly--

  Daphne rolled her brown eyes up to the ceiling.

  --"But it is the merest shooting-box," he added, as if pleading for alight sentence.

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes--on my honour!"

  "And--you live in a _club_!"

  Then came the verdict--the inevitable verdict.

  "What you want," said Daphne, regarding the impassive features of theprisoner at the bar, "is a wife. It's not too late, really," sheadded, smiling kindly upon him. "Of course, you think now at your agethat you could never get used to it, but you could."

  "Do you think any girl would marry a man practically in his dotage?"inquired Juggernaut respectfully.

  "Not a girl, perhaps," admitted Daphne, "but somebody sensible andgood. I'll tell you what--don't you know any nice widows? A widowwould suit you top-hole. She would be used to men already, which wouldhelp her a lot, poor thing! Then, she would probably let you down moreeasily than an old maid. She would know, for instance, that it'sperfectly hopeless to get a man to keep his room tidy, or to stopleaving his slippers about on the dining-room hearthrug, or droppingmatches and ash on the floor. Do marry a widow, Sir John! Don't youknow of any?"

  Sir John smiled grimly.

  "I will consult my visiting-list," he said; "but I won't promiseanything. In spite of the apparent docility of my character, there arejust one or two things which I prefer to do in my own way."

  "Still, I don't despair of you," said Daphne. "Old Martin down in thevillage married only the other day, and he was seventy-two. Nearlybedridden, in fact," she added encouragingly.

  That evening after supper the Rectory children sat round the tableengaged in card games of a heating and complicated nature, MissVereker as usual doubling the parts of croupier and referee. The guestand the Rector were smoking in the study.

  Suddenly the door of the dining-room opened, and Brian Verekerappeared.

  "Daphne, my daughter," he said, "can you leave these desperadoes for awhile and join us in the study?"

  "All right, Dad. Ally, you had better be dealer. Nicky, if you cheatwhile I am away you know the penalty! Come with me, Dawks. So long,everybody. Back directly!"

  But she was wrong. Game succeeded game: the time slipped by unheededby all except Nicky and Tony, who, because it was past their hour forgoing to bed, noted its flight with special and personal relish; andit was not until the almost tearful Cilly had been rendered an oldmaid for the fourth consecutive time that the family realised that itwas nearly half-past ten and Daphne had not returned.

  "Of course," said Nicky, wagging her head triumphantly, "we all knowwhat _that_ means!"

  And for once in her small, scheming, prying life, she was right.