Stafford nodded.
"He's--he's kindness itself," he said, in a very low voice and not
turning his head. "I didn't know that he was like--this. I didn't know
he cared--"
"It's evident he cares very much!" said Howard, gravely. "If you were
the Prodigal Son he couldn't have felt it more."
"And yet they say--that bagman said--" muttered Stafford with
smouldering rage and indignation.
"There are few things in my life that I regret, my dear Staff; but till
my dying day I shall regret that I did not turn and rend that bagman!
He's a splendid fellow--splendid! Now I've seen him I don't wonder at
his success. Envy is not one of my numerous vices, Staff; but frankly I
envy you your father! Wake up, old man! We mustn't keep him waiting!
What quarters!" He looked round the room as he moved to go. "Fit for a
prince! But you _are_ a prince! Why, dash it, I feel like a prince
myself! How are you, Measom? Got down all right, then?--I'll give you a
knock when I'm ready, Stafford!"
Stafford dressed quickly, thinking all the while of his father; of his
good looks, his deep, pleasant voice, his affectionate welcome; and
thrusting from him the unfavourable impression which the ornate
splendour of the place had made.
Howard knocked presently and the two men went down. Sir Stephen was
waiting in the hall; and Stafford, with a little thrill of pride,
noticed that he looked still more distinguished in his evening-dress,
which was strikingly plain; a single pearl--but it was priceless
one--was its only ornament.
"By George, you have been quick!" said Sir Stephen, with his genial
smile.
"That's one for yourself, sir," said Stafford.
"Oh, I? I can dress in five minutes," responded Sir Stephen, linking
his arm in Stafford's. "I'm almost as good as a 'quick-change artist.'"
He drew aside to let Howard follow the butler between the two footmen
drawn up beside the door, and they entered the dining-room.
It was of choice American walnut, and lit by rose-shaded electric
lights, in which the plate and the glass, the flowers and the napery
glowed softly: an ideal room which must have filled the famous
decorator who had designed it with just pride and elation. The table
had been reduced to a small oval; and the servants proceeded to serve a
dinner which told Howard that Sir Stephen had become possessed of a
_chef_ who was a _cordon bleu_. The wines were as choice as the _menu_;
but Sir Stephen watered his Chateau claret, and ate but little,
excusing himself in the middle of a sentence with: "I'm setting you a bad example. But there's always a skeleton at my
feast--a rather common one nowadays; they call him Gout. And so you
drove down? That must have been pleasant! It's a pretty country--so I'm
told. I didn't see much of it from the train. But the lake--ah, well,
it's indescribable, isn't it! After all one sees, one is bound to admit
that there is nothing to beat English scenery; of course I include
Irish. We've a strain of Irish blood in us, Mr. Howard, and I always
stand up for the ould counthry. Things are looking up there lately;
we're beginning to appreciated. Give us a year or two, and we'll have
all the world and his wife scampering over it. I've a little Irish
scheme of my own--but I mustn't bore you the first night. Mr. Howard,
if that wine is too thin--"