daisy ross was annoyed, almost indignant, and with reason. as she said to mr. clifford--

"it's really too ridiculous! one's wedding day is an occasion of some importance, even to a man." mr. clifford admitted that it was. "while to a woman it involves a frightful strain." mr. clifford again agreed. "very well, then; a little consideration surely should be shown; mr. oldfield's conduct is absurd."

"he certainly is placing me in a very awkward position."

"i should think he was; considering that the bridesmaids' dresses are practically finished, and that two of them have to go away on the day after the one we fixed, how are we going to postpone the wedding?"

"i'm sure i don't know; but what am i to do? his conduct's most mysterious."

"my dear frank, his conduct's not only mysterious, it's monstrous; and i don't care what you say. he knows you are going to be married."

"of course he does; he's known about it all along."

"he knows when you are going to be married."

"certainly, i asked him to be present; he gave me to understand that probably he would be."

"then probably he will be."

"but suppose i see or hear nothing of him in the meanwhile?"

"he is a most exasperating man. how long is it since you have heard anything of him?"

"about two months; rather over than under."

"something must have happened to him."

"you know his ways; i've told you about them often enough. when he leaves the office, unless he volunteers the information, i never know when i shall see him again, and unless i've some pressing reason for wanting to know i never ask; i've more sense. he dislikes being questioned about anything, and he's always shown what i've felt is really a morbid objection to being questioned about his movements; it's only quite recently that i've known his private address. it isn't as if this sort of thing hadn't happened before; it has, again and again. one evening, about a couple of years ago, he left the office quite late, after being in regular daily attendance, early and late, for some weeks; i expected he would come on the following day in the ordinary course, but i never saw or heard anything of him for close upon four months; then one morning he walked in, and, without offering a word of explanation, took up the thread of affairs just where he had left it, and, what's more, showed quite a good knowledge of what had been going on during his absence."

"but what a state things would have got into if it hadn't been for you."

"quite so; that's just the point, he trusts me. in the ordinary course of business i have complete control of everything. if anything unusual turns up, which is of importance, i hold it over for reference to him; but in the general way i run the entire show; which, after all, isn't saying so very much, because, when all is said and done, he's a first-rate man of business and a splendid organizer, so that it's quite easy for me to do. and you know, daisy, he treats me very generously, and always has done; i've practically a share in the concern, which is a free gift from him."

"i suppose you're worth what he gives you."

"all the same, i never put in a penny--i never had one to put; and there are hundreds, i dare say thousands, of men who could do all i do, and who'd be only too glad to do it, for a tenth part of what he gives me."

"if i were you, i shouldn't tell him so."

"he knows, my dear, he knows. he's the same with everybody about the place; it's a principle of his to treat everybody generously who does honest work for him; he wouldn't be happy if he thought that a man wasn't getting a fair share of the fruits of his own labours. in spite of his little eccentricities he's a magnificent fellow, and i couldn't do anything to annoy or disappoint him--not--well, i wouldn't do it."

miss ross sighed.

"you hadn't arranged to be married during that four months' absence of his."

"i certainly hadn't."

"suppose the wedding-day had been fixed for two months after he had gone, and he had known it, would you have postponed it indefinitely, till he condescended to turn up again?"

"i don't know what i should have done, i really don't; but i tell you what we might do--that is, if you wouldn't mind very much."

"oh, never mind what i mind; my wishes aren't of the slightest consequence; i shall begin to wish that i wasn't going to be married!"

"daisy! don't say that, even in jest. it's as hard upon me as it is upon you."

"honestly, frank, i don't see it. to a man, having his wedding-day postponed, and that indefinitely, is, of course, rather a nuisance; but to a woman, it's--it's quite a different thing."

"but i'm not going to suggest that it shall be postponed."

"then what are you going to suggest? what have you been suggesting for the last--i don't know how long?"

"that's because the idea never occurred to me until just now; i don't know why; i suppose it's because i'm stupid."

"now what idea have you got into your head?"

"i think i see a way out of the difficulty; that is, if you'll agree."

"agree to what?"

"the great thing for us is to be married, isn't it?"

"i don't know that i'm prepared to admit it till i know what you're leading up to."

"very well, then, as one of the parties i'll admit it; the one thing for which i'm living is to be married to you; when i am married i'll be happy."

"thank you; that's very nice of you; but i'm not going to admit anything till i know what it is you've got at the back of your head."

"we're going to be married on thursday--that is, this day week."

"we were to have been married on thursday; i know my wedding dress is coming home on wednesday."

"and after the wedding we're to start for a three months' tour on the continent, something like a honeymoon."

"we were to have started for a three months' tour."

"that's what i arranged with mr. oldfield. i said to him, 'mr. oldfield, after my marriage--at which i trust you'll be present--i hope to go abroad with my wife for a month, if i can be spared from the office.' he said to me, 'clifford, why not make it three months?' i stared; he went on: 'a man isn't married often!'"

"frank!"

"that's what he said; and it's true. 'therefore there's no reason why he shouldn't make the most of it when he is; you take your wife abroad for three months, i'll see you're spared from the office.' and that's how it was arranged."

"yes, and then he goes and disappears, and i'm not to be married at all, and that's how it's disarranged."

"not a bit of it; the wedding needn't be postponed; the more i think of it the less reason do i see why it should."

"frank! then what ever have you been talking to me about ever since i don't know when!"

"mr. oldfield's continued absence needn't prevent my sparing a day to get away from the office to be married."

"needn't it! i'm sure it's very nice of you to talk about sparing a whole day for a trifling thing like that."

"in any case, all that need suffer is the three months' tour. if mr. oldfield hasn't turned up by thursday, after we're married we'll go for a weekend honeymoon. i'll return to the office on monday. the house is ready, all it needs is its mistress; you'll be installed a little sooner than you thought, and when mr. oldfield does appear we'll go for our three months' tour."

miss ross sat looking at him with rather a complicated expression on her pretty face, as if she did not quite know what to make of his proposition.

"frank, why didn't you think of it before? instead of worrying me, and making my hair come out by handfuls, by keeping on saying that if mr. oldfield didn't return in time, you couldn't possibly desert peter piper's popular pills, and that therefore the wedding would have to be postponed till you didn't know when."

"i don't know; but i didn't. i fancy, sweetheart, that it's because i was so looking forward to that scamper through europe. it's so long since i had a real holiday--and such a holiday--with you! if you only knew how often i have dreamed of it!"

"and do you think i haven't dreamed of it too?" they were sitting very close together; she looked at him with almost comic wistfulness as she added, "a week-end honeymoon will be rather a comedown, won't it?"

"compared to that elaborate tour, which we have so carefully planned, in which we were to go to so many delightful places, and do so many delicious things, rather! but it won't spoil by being kept; we'll have it; and in the meanwhile a week-end will be better than nothing."

"frank, i'll tell you something. rather than that the wedding should be put off i'd go straight home with you to our home, from the church doors; or i'd return with you to the office, and sit on a stool, till your day's work was done."

"sweetheart!"

there was an interval, during which more was done than said. then she observed--

"now let me clearly understand; even if mr. oldfield returns on wednesday we go for our tour."

"even if he puts in an appearance in the church."

"well, let's hope he won't put it off till quite so late as that; because, though perhaps you mayn't be aware of it, there is such a thing as packing; one doesn't pack for a week-end just as one packs for three months on the continent. but, in any case, the wedding is not to be postponed."

"it is not to be postponed. let me put it like this. you talk it over with your father----"

"frank! don't be absurd! i fancy i see myself talking it over with papa. why, do you know what he says? he says he can't see why a girl need make such a fuss about such a little thing as being married; he wonders why she can't go in a 'bus to the nearest registrar's, and then go, in a spirit of meek thankfulness, to her new home in another 'bus, and start darning the old socks which her husband has been storing up against her coming."

"well, there's something in it."

"is there? at any rate, i'm not going to talk it over with papa; he wouldn't talk it over with me if i wanted him to."

"then talk it over with your mother, and--and the rest of the family."

"it is a matter for my decision, not for theirs."

"precisely; only there's no harm in observing certain forms. and i'll make another effort to see if i can find out something which will point to oldfield's whereabouts. i'll go round to his flat in bloomsbury mansions; they sometimes do hear something of him there; then i'll try every other place i can think of--there aren't many places, but there are some--then i'll come round to-morrow and tell you the result of my efforts, and you'll tell me the result of the family consultation."

"i can tell you that before you go; the wedding is not to be postponed."

"of course the wedding is not to be postponed; but still there are things you'll like to talk over with them--they'll expect it; and then they can talk them over with me--you know the sort of thing. and anyhow i hope you don't object to my coming again to-morrow, if only to be told once more that the wedding is not to be postponed."

"of course i don't object to your coming again to-morrow; you'll hear of it if you don't."

"but in case i should be prevented, don't you think you'd better give me an extra kiss or two?"

"frank! i'm always kissing you."

"not always; sometimes i'm kissing you."

"you'll soon grow tired."

"shall i? be careful what you say! you'll be punished if you say it."

"i hope you never will grow tired."

"sweetheart, you mustn't even say it in jest!"

the rest was that sort of talk which we have most of us talked once; those of us who haven't are to be pitied; it is a kind of talk which is well worth talking. then mr. clifford went on to bloomsbury mansions, which was joseph oldfield's london address; indeed, so far as his manager knew, it was the proprietor of peter piper's popular pills' only address. as usual he found the porter in the entrance hall; of him he made inquiry.

"well, coles, any news of mr. oldfield?"

in the porter's manner, as he replied, there was a significance which mr. clifford did not understand.

"i can't say that there's any news of mr. oldfield exactly; but there's something going on."

"going on? what do you mean?"

"in his flat."

"in his flat! what's going on in his flat?"

"that's more than i can tell you, sir; but there's some one in there; in fact, there's two people in there. one of them says he's mr. oldfield's solicitor; i don't know who the other is, but he may be another solicitor for all i can tell; he looks as if he might be something in that line."

frank clifford opened his eyes.

"his solicitor? what solicitor? what's his name?"

"seemed to me he was shy about giving his name; but when i made it clear that he wasn't going up unless he did, he said his name was nash--herbert nash. he's quite a young chap--younger than the other, though he's not old."

"nash? herbert nash? i never heard mr. oldfield speak of a solicitor named nash; but of course he may have a dozen solicitors of whom i know nothing. how did they get in? did you let them in?"

"not me; they brought mr. oldfield's own key; mr. nash had it."

"that looks as if they'd at least heard from mr. oldfield quite recently, which is more than i have. it's lucky i happened to come just now. take me up, coles; i should like to see mr. nash."

the porter said, as they were stepping into the lift--

"i hope, sir, there's nothing wrong with mr. oldfield--that he's not ill, or anything like that; but it looks odd his solicitor coming instead of him, and that without giving any notice."

"it doesn't necessarily follow, coles, that there's anything wrong with him on that account; most probably mr. oldfield is abroad, and has sent his solicitor instructions, in order to carry out which mr. nash has to visit his flat."

the lift stopped; the porter pointed to a door.

"i hope you're right, sir; i should be sorry to hear that anything had happened to mr. oldfield; to my thinking he's the pleasantest gentleman we've got in the mansions, and i don't care who hears me say so. that's his flat, sir. you'll find them in there now. shall i ring, sir?"

"no; i'll ring."

mr. clifford rang.