A Safety Match

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  "MORITURA TE SALUTAT."

  On a bright spring afternoon three weeks later the Rectory childrensat huddled together like a cluster of disconsolate starlings upon thefive-barred gate leading into Farmer Preston's big pasture meadow.

  It was the eve of Daphne's wedding-day.

  To those readers of this narrative who feel inclined to dilate uponthe impropriety of marrying in haste, it may be pointed out that thebride possessed no money and the bridegroom no relatives. Consequentlythere would be no presents, no _trousseau_. The principal incentivesto what Miss Veronica Vereker pithily described as a "circus wedding"being thus eliminated, the pair were to be married quietly next day inthe little church where Daphne had been christened and confirmed, andunder the shadow of which she had lived all her short life.

  As noted above, the bride had no _trousseau_, for her father could notafford one, and she flatly declined to take a penny from her _fiance_until he became her husband. The little village dressmaker had turnedout a wedding-dress over which Cilly hourly gloated, divided betweenecstasy and envy; and this, together with an old lace veil in whichher mother had been married, would serve Daphne's needs.

  In truth, she had little time to think of herself. She wasrelinquishing a throne which she had occupied since she was elevenyears old, and the instruction and admonition of her successor hadoccupied her attention ever since the date of her wedding had beenfixed. Keys had to be handed over, recipes confided, and the mysteriesof feminine book-keeping unfolded. There were good-byes to be said tobedridden old women and tearful cottage children. The bridegroom too,she felt, had a certain claim upon her attention. He had departed themorning after Daphne had accepted him, and was now very busy preparinghis house in London for the reception of the future Lady Carr. But hehad spent a good deal of time at the Rectory for all that, coming downfor week-ends and the like; and Daphne, mindful of the duties of a_fiancee_, devoted herself conscientiously to his entertainmentwhenever he appeared.

  But now the end of all things was imminent. To-morrow the managementof the Rectory would pass into the hands of the dubious andinexperienced Cilly.

  Meanwhile the Rectory children continued to sit disconsolately uponthe gate. They were waiting for Daphne, who had promised to spend herlast afternoon with them. Sir John, who was now staying at KirkleyAbbey,--to the mingled apprehension and exhilaration of the chiefbridesmaid Lord Kirkley had offered to act as best man,--was to comeover that afternoon, but only to see the Rector on matters connectedwith settlements and other unromantic adjuncts to the married state.

  The gate proving unsuitable for prolonged session, the familyabandoned their gregarious attitude and disposed of themselves in morecomfortable fashion. Ally, home on two days' special leave fromschool, lay basking in the sun. Cilly sprawled on the grass with herback against a tree trunk, her brow puckered with the gradualrealisation of coming responsibility. Stiffy, simple soul, with hisknees clasped beneath his chin, sorrowfully contemplated to-morrow'sbereavement. Master Anthony Cuthbert, perched on a log with a switchin his hand, was conducting an unseen orchestra. Nicky, soulless andflippant as ever, speculated at large upon her sister's future.

  "It'll be pretty hot for Daph living down there at first," she mused.A joke lasted Nicky a long time: the humorous fiction that thebride-elect would to-morrow be carried off to reside permanently inthe infernal regions was still as a savoury bakemeat to her palate."Of course, Polly"--this was her abbreviation for Apollyon, adopted assoon as that gentleman had ascended from the grade of familiar friendto that of prospective relative--"will be glad to get back to his ownfireside, but Daph will feel it a bit, I should think. Perhaps he willlet her use a screen to begin with!... I wonder what housekeeping willbe like. I suppose the cook will have horns and a tail, and all thefood will be devilled. I should like to see Daph ordering dinner.'Good morning, Diabolo!' 'Good morning, miss! What would you like fordinner to-night?' 'Well, Diabolo, what have you _got_?' 'There's anice tender sinner came in this morning, miss. You might have a few ofhis ribs; or would you prefer him served up grilled, with brimstonesauce? And I suppose you would like devils-on-horseback for asavoury.' 'That will do _very_ nicely, Diabolo. Oh, I forgot! It'spossible that the Lucifers will drop in. Perhaps we'd better haveyesterday's moneylender cold on the side-board in case there isn'tenough to go round. And we must have something special to'--Ally, whatdo people drink in Hades?"

  "Dunno," said Ally drowsily; "molten lead, I should think."

  "Only the _lower_ classes, dear," said Nicky witheringly. "I amtalking about the best people."

  "Sulphuric acid?" suggested Ally, who was beginning to study chemistryat school.

  "That will do," said Nicky, and returned to her dialogue. "'Diabolo,will you tell the butler to put a barrel--no, a _vat_--of sulphuricacid on ice. You know what the Lucifers are, when'--hallo, here's Daphat last!"

  The bride-elect approached, swinging her garden-hat in her hand, andfollowed by Mr Dawks.

  "Well, family," she said, "I'm yours for the rest of the day. Whatshall we do?"

  "Where is John?" inquired Ally. (John, it may be explained, was thename by which the family, with the exception of Nicky, had decided toaddress their future brother-in-law.)

  "In the study with Dad."

  "Has he arranged about having the five o'clock train stopped to-morrowafternoon?" inquired the careful Stiffy.

  "No. We are going in a motor all the way to London," said Daphne."Jack was keeping it as a surprise for me. It's a new one, a----"

  "All the way to _where_?" inquired that economical humourist, MissVeronica Vereker.

  "London."

  "H'm! Yes, I _have_ heard it called that, now I come to think of it,"conceded Nicky; "but it seems a waste of a good car, especially ifit's a new one. Unless it's made of some special--Stiffy, what's thename of that stuff that won't burn?"

  "Asbestos?"

  "That's it--asbestos. I didn't expect to see you drive off down theroad, somehow," continued Nicky in a somewhat injured voice, "justlike an ordinary couple. I thought Polly would stamp his foot on thelawn, and a chasm would yawn at your feet, and in you'd both pop, andyou would be gone for ever, like--Ally, who were those two people inthe Latin book you had for a holiday task?"

  "What you want, Nicky," responded Mr Aloysuis Vereker, "is chloroform.Do you mean Pluto and Proserpine?"

  "That's it--Proserpine. Well, Proserpine, what are you going to do toentertain your little brothers and sisters this afternoon?"

  "Anything you like," said Proserpine, endeavouring to balance herselfon the top bar of the gate. "How about making toffee down in the Den?"

  There was a chorus of approval. Nursery customs die hard. Even themagnificent Ally found it difficult to shake off the glamour of thisyouthful dissipation.

  "I'll tell you what," continued Daphne, warming up to the occasion,"we'll have a regular farewell feast. We'll send down to the shop andget some buns and chocolates and gingerbeer, and--and----"

  "Bananas," suggested Tony.

  "Nuts," added Cilly.

  "Cigarettes," said Ally.

  "Who has got any money?" inquired Nicky.

  The family fumbled in its pockets.

  "Here's threepence--all I have," said Cilly at length.

  "Twopence," said Ally, laying the sum on Cilly's threepenny bit.

  "Awfully sorry," said Stiffy, "but I'm afraid I've only got a stamp.It's still quite gummy at the back, though," he added hopefully."They'll take it."

  Tony produced a halfpenny.

  "You can search _me_, friends!" was Nick's despairing contribution.

  "I have fourpence," said the bride--"not a penny more. I handed overall the spare housekeeping money to Dad this morning. That only makestenpence-halfpenny, counting Stiffy's stamp." She sighed wistfully."And I did so want to give you all a treat before I went! Well, wemust do without the nuts and chocolates, and----"

  Nicky rose to her feet, swelling with sudden inspiration.

/>   "Daph, what's the matter with running along to this millionaire youngman of yours and touching _him_ for a trifle?" she inquiredtriumphantly.

  Daphne hesitated. True, to-morrow she would be a rich man's wife, ableto afford unlimited gingerbeer. But the idea of asking a man for moneydid not appeal to her. Pride of poverty and maidenly reserve make anobstinate mixture. Yet the flushed and eager faces of Nicky and Tony,the polite deprecations of the selfless Stiffy, and the studiedindifference of Cilly and Ally, were hard to resist.

  "I wonder if he would mind," she said doubtfully.

  "Mind? Oh, no. Why should he?" urged the chorus respectfully.

  "Have a dart for it, anyhow," said Nicky.

  Daphne descended from the gate.

  "Righto!" she said. "After all, it's our last afternoon together, andI _should_ like to do you all proud. I'll chance it. The rest of youcan start down to the Den and collect sticks, while I run along to thehouse and ask him. Nicky, you had better come with me to carry downsaucepans and things. Come on--I'll race you!"

  Three minutes later, Sir John Carr, smoking a meditative cigar uponthe lawn, was aware of a sudden scurry and patter in the lane outside.Directly after this, with a triumphant shriek, the small figure of hisfuture sister-in-law shot through the garden-gate, closely followedby that of his future wife. Mr Dawks, faint yet pursuing, brought upthe rear.

  The competitors flung themselves down on the grass at his feet,panting.

  "We have been having a race," explained Daphne rather gratuitously.

  "I won!" gasped Nicky. "Daph has the longest legs," she continued,"but I have the shortest skirts. Now, my children, I must leave you.Wire in!" she concluded, in a hoarse and penetrating whisper toDaphne.

  Her short skirts flickered round the corner of the house, and she wasgone. Daphne was left facing her _fiance_.

  "I say," she began rather constrainedly--"don't get up; I'm not goingto stay--do you think you could lend me a little money? I--I'll payyou back in a day or two," she added with a disarming smile. "The factis, we are going to make toffee down in the Den, and I wanted to get afew extra things, just to give them all a real treat to finish upwith, you know. Will you--Jack?"

  Juggernaut looked up at her with his slow scrutinising smile.

  "What sort of extra things?" he inquired.

  "Oh!"--Daphne closed her eyes and began to count on herfingers--"buns, and chocolates, and nuts, and gingerbeer. And I wantedto give Ally a packet of cigarettes. (After all, he's eighteen, andhe does love them so, and they are only ten for threepence.) And ifyou could run to it, I should like to get a few bananas as well," sheconcluded with a rush, laying all her cards on the table at once.

  Juggernaut leaned back in his chair and looked extremely judicial.

  "What will all this cost?" he inquired.

  "One and eleven," said Daphne. "Jack, you _dear_! We _shall_ have atime!"

  Juggernaut had taken a handful of change out of his pocket.

  "One and eleven," he said; "I wonder, Daphne, if you will be able topurchase an afternoon of perfect happiness for that sum in a year'stime."

  He handed over the money.

  "May I have a receipt?" he asked gravely.

  Daphne took his meaning, and kissed him lightly. She lingered for amoment, anxious not to appear in a hurry to run away.

  "Is there anything else?" inquired Sir John at length.

  Daphne ran an inward eye over the possibilities of dissipation.

  "No, I don't think so," she said. "Thanks ever so much! We shall beback about six. So long, old man. Don't go to sleep in this hot sun."

  She flitted away across the lawn, jingling the money in her hand. Atthe gate she turned and waved her hand. Juggernaut's eyes were fixedupon her, but he did not appear to observe her salutation. Probably hewas in a brown study about something.

  Daphne was half-way down to the Den before it occurred to her that itwould have been a graceful act--not to say the barest civility--toinvite the donor of the feast to come and be present thereat. But shedid not go back.

  "It would bore him so, poor dear!" she said to herself; "and--and us,too!"

  * * * * *

  Next day they were married.

  BOOK TWO.

  FLICKERINGS.