The Romantic Adventures of Mr. Darby and of Sarah His Wife Read Free Page A

Sarah would certainly have succeeded, sooner or later, to this responsible post, had she not been snapped up, at the age of thirty-two, by the enterprising and adventurous Mr. Darby. What in Mr. Darby had made her allow him to do so was not apparent: perhaps it was that she was fond of children and in marrying Mr. Darby she was providing herself with a child that would remain permanently a child. Thus it was that, though the Darbys had had no children, Mrs. Darby could hardly be called a childless woman.
    She glanced now at the absurd little man in the doorway, secretly amused but none the less ready to be strict. She knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to poke and pry round the table, like a cock-robin round a handful of crumbs, to see that everything was all right. On ordinaryoccasions she didn’t allow this kind of thing. This was her business, not his: ‘and if you haven’t had enough work for the day,’ she would exclaim tartly, ‘you’d better go back to the office.’ But to-day she was willing to be indulgent. Of course, as she knew well enough, the table was all right: he would find nothing wrong, and even if anything
had
been wrong, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Still, let him amuse himself. There! He was going to begin.
    â€˜Very nice, very elegant I’m sure! ’ he said washing his hands in the doorway like a fly. Then with his hands clasped he advanced on tiptoe into the room and began poking and prying round the table, nodding his head with knowing approval. Then his eye glanced a little timidly at the chrysanthemums. A horrible doubt had crossed his mind. Were they too tall? Would the people at the top of the table, namely Sarah and the guests on her right and left, be able to see him when he stood up? ‘I was wondering. … Do you think?’ he began.
    â€˜Do I think?’ prompted Sarah.
    â€˜That the flowers … the … ah … chrysanthemums … will be too tall? ’ Mr. Darby had early in life acquired from old Mr. Lamb, the senior partner of Messrs. Lamb & Marston, a careful and weighty method of speech, a happy blend of the doctor and the clergyman. Its effect was to invest with apparent importance even the most trivial phrase. Sarah was one of the few people who had never succumbed to its influence.
    â€˜Too tall?’ she said sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
    â€˜I mean, I suppose there’ll be some … ah … speeches … just a few words, you know … and will they be too tall for … for people to see the … ah … the speakers? ’
    â€˜Too
tall
?’ said Sarah, scornfully. ‘What are you thinking of? Isn’t George Stedman six foot two?’
    Mr. Darby did not like to be more particular. He let the question drop. But it would be awkward, very awkward, if he really was hidden completely, speechifying away in a grove of chrysanthemums to people he couldn’t see and couldn’t be seen by. It would spoil everything.
    â€˜Have you got the wine?’ asked Sarah.
    â€˜The … ah … champagne? Yes, the parcel’s out in the hall.’
    â€˜Parcel? If it’s still a parcel, you’d better get to work and undo it. They’ll be here in just over half an hour; and look at you, not changed yet.’
    Mr. Darby went into the hall, to the table near the hat-rack, and began to undo the parcel. Sarah followed him and turned into the parlour where he heard her putting coal on. He stood the two bottles on the table and, like a conjuror performing a trick, neatly lifted off their straw jackets. Then with a bottle held by the neck in either hand he stepped into the sitting-room. Sarah reappeared.
    â€˜There!’ he said to her. ‘A couple of Clicquots,’
    â€˜And what’s that?’ said Sarah. ‘I thought you were getting champagne.’
    â€˜It
is
champagne,’ said Mr. Darby. ‘One of the well known brands, you