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Disentangling Old Duggie
by
Well, directly news of this got about, down swooped a series of aunts to grab the helm. They didn’t stay long. Florence had them out, one after the other, in no time. If any lingering doubt remained in their minds, don’t you know, as to who was going to be boss at home, it wasn’t her fault. Since then she has run the show.
I went to Madison Avenue. It was one of the aunts’ houses. There was no sign of the aunt when I called–she had probably climbed a tree and pulled it up after her–but Florence was there.
She is a tall woman with what, I believe, is called “a presence.” Her eyes are bright and black, and have a way of getting right inside you, don’t you know, and running up and down your spine. She has a deep voice. She is about ten years older than Duggie’s brother Edwin, who is six years older than Duggie.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Sit down.”
I poured myself into a chair.
“Reginald,” she said, “what is this I hear about Douglas?”
I said I didn’t know.
“He says that you introduced him.”
“Eh?”
“To this woman–this Mrs. Darrell.”
“Mrs. Darrell?”
My memory’s pretty rocky, and the name conveyed nothing to me.
She pulled out a letter.
“Yes,” she said, “Mrs. Dorothy Darrell.”
“Great Scott! Dorothea!”
Her eyes resumed their spine drill.
“Who is she?”
“Only a palmist.”
“Only a palmist!” Her voice absolutely boomed. “Well, my brother Douglas is engaged to be married to her.”
“Many happy returns of the day,” I said.
I don’t know why I said it. It wasn’t what I meant to say. I’m not sure I meant to say anything.
She glared at me. By this time I was pure jelly. I simply flowed about the chair.
“You are facetious, Reginald,” she said.
“No, no, no,” I shouted. “It slipped out. I wouldn’t be facetious for worlds.”
“I am glad. It is no laughing matter. Have you any suggestions?”
“Suggestions?”
“You don’t imagine it can be allowed to go on? The engagement must be broken, of course. But how?”
“Why don’t you tell him he mustn’t?”
“I shall naturally express my strong disapproval, but it may not be effective. When out of the reach of my personal influence, my wretched brother is self-willed to a degree.”
I saw what she meant. Good old Duggie wasn’t going to have those eyes patrolling his spine if he knew it. He meant to keep away and conduct this business by letter. There was going to be no personal interview with sister, if he had to dodge about America like a snipe.
We sat for a long time without speaking. Then I became rather subtle. I had a brain-wave and saw my way to making things right for Dug and at the same time squaring myself with Florence. After all, I thought, the old boy couldn’t keep away from home for the rest of his life. He would have to go there sooner or later. And my scheme made it pleasant and easy for him.
“I’ll tell you what I should do if I were you,” I said. “I’m not sure I didn’t read some book or see some play somewhere or other where they tried it on, and it worked all right. Fellow got engaged to a girl, and the family didn’t like it, but, instead of kicking, they pretended to be tickled to pieces, and had the fellow and the girl down to visit them. And then, after the fellow had seen the girl with the home circle as a background, don’t you know, he came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t do, and broke off the engagement.”
It seemed to strike her.
“I hardly expected so sensible a suggestion from you, Reginald,” she said. “It is a very good plan. It shows that you really have a definite substratum of intelligence; and it is all the more deplorable that you should idle your way through the world as you do, when you might be performing some really useful work.”