Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-09-11
CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIII.
Wherein Wrath Besuiles Good Judgment
GOOD mornin'. George"
Good morning, Dad.
Enjoy your run to Hereford"
Immensely. Did your"
1T was not SO bad Rather tiresome you
know, travelin' alone: but on the return
journey fell in with decent sort of French
man who helped to pass the time"
Monsieur Marigny, in fact?"
"Ah, you know him, of course. had for
gotten"
Il have met him. He is not the kind of
person care to know"
The Earl selected an egg, tapped it. and
asked his son what he thought of the crops
did they want rain9 The two were break
fasting alone,-at the moment there was
not even a man servant in the room,-but
Lord Fairholme had long ago established the
golden rule that controversial topics were
taboo during meals. Medenham laughed
outright at the sudden change of topic. He
remembered that Dale was sent to bed in the
Green Dragon Hotel at eight o'clock, and he
had not the least doubt that his father S
ukase was really dodge to secure an undis-
turbed dinner. But he was under no delu-
sions because of this placid meeting in the
breakfast room. There was thunder in the
air. Tomkinson had warned him of it over
night.
There's been ructions while you were
away, my Lord" the butler had whispered,
waylaying him in the hall just before mid
night Lady ST. Maur has upset the Earl
somethink dreadful"
And Medenham had growled in reply,
"Her Ladyship will lunch here at one o'clock
- M, nhtf-
lance ready at two; for she will be in little
pieces before / have done with her. The
mangling will be somethink orful."
But what has become of Dale, my
Lord?" went on Tomkinson in hushed
voice.
"Dale' He is all right. Whya Is he in
the soup too?"
"No, my Lord. I've heard nothink of
that; but he sent me wire from Bristol"
"A telegram-about what1"
about horse"
"Oh, the deuce take you and your horses!
BY the way, that reminds me-you gave me
a rotten tip for the Derby"
1T was false run race, my Lord. The
favorite was sweep off his feet at Tattenham
Corner and couldn't get into his stride again
till the field was opposite Langland's Stands.
After that"
hIcI tildI L III SOliiS W DSu. ouI ioi
give you, Tomkinson. You put up ripping
good lunch. You're far better butler than
tipster."
This brief conversation had illumined at
least one dubious page in the records of the
last few days. Medenham realized now that
his aunt had emptied the vials of her wrath
on Mrs. Devar; but, that lady being absent
in body, the Earl had received the full dose.
1t indicated somewhat the line he should fol-
low when, breakfast ended. his father sug-
gested that they should smoke cigarette in
the library.
once there and the door closed, the Earl
- established himself on the hearthrug
with his back to the fireplace. 1t was high
summer. and the lazy London heat crept in
through the open windows; but the hearth
rug constituted throne, a seat of Solomon.
Had his Lordship stood anywhere else he
would have felt lacking in authority.
Now. George, my boy, tell me all about
it, he said, with genially paternal air that
lent itself admirably to the discussion of a
youngsters transgressions.
Medenham had sense of humor denied
to his we'll meaning sire. He recalled the
last time he had heard those words. He and