# An Embassy

"A pony in the hand is worth a peer in the—Law Courts."
An Embassy
By Anthony Hope.
"IT'S a different thing when a fellow's going to be a peer, don't you know?" said Franklin Ford. (I don't know why I used to dislike him; he's a capital fellow.)
"What have they given it to your governor for?" I asked.
"Well, he parted a bit," said Franklin; "sent 'em a cheque, and told 'em they could ask for more. Then he's always voted dead straight."
"Then it's fair enough," I concluded. "Well, Lily'll make an uncommon fine peeress, Franklin, my boy."
"It's not a laughing matter," said Franklin, solemnly.
"Oh, isn't it," said I.
"I love that girl, Van, like—like blazes. But hang it, don't you know."
"If she is fit to be a gentleman's wife, she is fit to be a peer's wife," I observed, sententiously.
"Rot!" said Franklin Ford, briefly.
"But then she isn't fit to be either," said I.
"She's a dashed pretty girl," said Franklin, irrelevantly. "Have a cigar?"
"No, thank you," said I. "The prettier a tobacconist's daughter is, the worse his cigars are;" and I lit my pipe.
"What am I to do?" asked Franklin, manfully taking a cigar. "I should feel a brute if—if I drew back, you know."
"Tell her the truth," I suggested.
"Oh, hang it," groaned Franklin.
"And give her a pony."
"Ah!" said Franklin, brightening a little.
"A pony in the hand is worth a peer in the—Law Courts," I observed.
Franklin thought for a moment.
"Couldn't do it," he pronounced. "Haven't got the cheek to go and tell her. Besides, if I found myself there——" Franklin winked.
"That is a danger," I allowed.
"You're an impudent young devil," said Franklin, in a friendly and, indeed, complimentary tone. "Suppose you do it for me?"
"Send your scout," said I, satirically.
"Don't be an ass," remonstrated Franklin. "You might just as well. By Jove, Van, I couldn't face it. She'll—she'll cry, don't you know."
I puffed at my pipe with an obdurate air.
"You can always manage women," said Franklin.
I looked at him suspiciously; he was quite serious. There always was a sort of solid common-sense about him.
"Well, if I happen to be passing——" I began.
"Thanks, awfully," cried Franklin. "Look here, old chap, be gentle with her. Let her down easy, because, hang it, you know, I did pretty well promise——"
"Oh, I'll be gentle with her."
"Thanks, awfully. Tell me how it goes. Well, old chap, so lo——"
I held out my hand.
"Your emotion," I remarked, "has caused you to forget the pony."
"By Jove! yes," said Franklin, with wonderful readiness. "I haven't got my cheque-book, but——"
"It would make no difference if you had. Cash, please."
Franklin observed on the suspiciousness of my disposition, and said that he would send the pony. It arrived some two hours later, and then I started out to visit Lily. I dealt with Lily's father, so I needed no excuse for the visit. On the contrary, in fact, a visit from me was expected—on the matter of my little account.
It was evening when I arrived at the shop. I was about to enter, when I observed that Lily was in conversation with a customer. I paused in the doorway, concealed by a large pile of wooden boxes, which professed to contain Havana cigars.
"How you go on!" remarked Lily.
The customer appeared pleased. He chuckled audibly.
"Say when," said he, insinuatingly.
"No I shan't—there!" said Lily.
"You're always a-putting of me off," he complained.
"Well, and who may you be?" she asked. It was exactly what I wanted to know myself, for I could see nothing but the back of his head.
"I'm the chap what's going to marry you," said the customer, with a confident nod of his bullet head.
"Lord! You know everything," she retorted, in obvious satire.
"I know a thing or two more than some."
"You don't say."
"Such as the Honourable Franklin Ford, Esquire." (I felt that I ought not to listen any longer, and drew more completely within the shadow of the boxes.)
"The Honourable Ford, Esquire!" exclaimed Lily. "And what about him, Mr. Clever?"
"I know what he did the other day."
"And that you don't," said Lily.
"And that I do," returned the customer.
"Well, and what was it?"
"The same as I'd like to do."
"That's not telling anything," said Lily, in the most innocent voice imaginable.
"Nor that neither, I suppose," said the customer.
There was a sudden shuffling, and then a certain unmistakable sound, then came Lily's voice, saying,—
"And what do you call 'that way' of going on?"
"Prime!" said the customer, unrepentingly.
"Oh, you are—!" I heard Lily say; and then followed a giggle and——. But I had listened too long; I cleared my throat and stepped into the shop.
"La!" cried Lily.
"Good evening, Miss Lily," said I.
The customer turned round. He"started slightly, then he raised his hat, saying, "Good evening, sir," and added, with a breathless absence of punctuation, "Half of shag please, Miss, the dark, same as I had before, never mind the paper, here's a pouch, Miss."
Woman is certainly superior to man. Lily received the order with perfect composure, placed the twopence in the till, and turned to me, smiling. The customer touched his hat again and disappeared.
"What a power in this world is twopence!" I mused.
"Beg pardon; sir?" said Lily.
I never arrive at conclusions hastily. I placed twopence on the counter. Lily smiled.
"Father'll be glad to see the colour of yours, sir," she remarked.
"Don't wander from the point," said I, severely. "I want just what that young man had for his."
"Shag, sir—for you?"
"Are we not all brethren?"
With a smile Lily weighed the shag and gave it to me.
"There, sir! Is that right?"
"So far," said I.
Lily leant her hands on the counter; I followed her example. The counter was not broad.
"I have got a little present for you," said I; and I produced Franklin's bundle of notes.
A cry escaped from Lily's lips.
"From the Honourable Franklin Ford, Esquire," I explained, gravely.
Lily's eyes met mine.
"Oh! From Mr. Ford, sir?"
"Precisely. He is leaving Oxford shortly. He is very fond of you. In fact, you are a very nice girl, Lily."
"You are very kind, I'm sure, sir."
"Are you distressed, Lily?" I asked, curiously; and I handed her the notes.
Lily examined them—again and again. I waited in suspense for her answer. It came at last.
"Mr. Ford's a gentleman, sir," she said, in a final tone.
I nodded; yet I wished to be sure that she was not distressed.
I rested my hands on the counter again.
"Well, you almost deserve it," said Lily.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1933, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 90 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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