of course," he said and looked cheerfully round the table. "There is no real happiness except in hard work. If I could only make you understand that, Marion, you would be much happier. Early to bed and early to rise."
"Makes a man stupid and closes his eyes," observed Brett, finishing the proverb in its modern form.
"What, what? What doggerel is that?"
"Did you never hear that?" asked Dolly, laughing. "It is from an unwritten and unpublished book—modern proverbs."
Simon Darche shook his head and smiled feebly.
"Dear me, dear me, I thought you were in earnest," he said.
"So he is," said Dolly. "We may have to get up at dawn sometimes, but we are far too much in earnest to go to bed early."
This was evidently beyond Simon Darche's comprehension and he relapsed into silence and the consumption of oysters. Mrs. Darche glanced reproachfully at Dolly as though to tell her that she should not chaff the old gentleman, and Vanbrugh came to the rescue.
"Do you often get up at dawn, Miss Maylands?" he inquired.
"Do I look as if I did?" retorted the young lady.
"How in the world should I know," asked Vanbrugh. "Do I look as though I associated with people who got up at dawn?"
Brett laughed.
"It always amuses me to hear you and Vanbrugh talk, Miss Maylands."
"Does it, I am so glad," said Dolly.
"Yes, you seem perfectly incapable of saying one word to each other without chaffing."
Old Mr. Darche had finished his oysters.
"Yes—yes," he observed. "A pair of chaffinches."
A moment of silence followed this appalling pun. Then Mrs. Darche laughed a little nervously, and Brett, who wished to help her, followed her example. The old gentleman himself seemed delighted with his own wit.
"We are beginning well," said Dolly. "Puns and proverbs with the oysters. What shall we get with the fruit?"
Vanbrugh was inclined to suggest that the dessert would probably find them in an idiot asylum, but he wisely abstained from words and tried to turn the conversation into a definite channel.
"Did you read that book I sent you, Mrs. Darche?" he asked.
"Yes," answered the latter, "I began to read it to my father-in-law but he did not care for it, so I am going on with it alone."
"What book was that, my dear?" inquired the old gentleman.
Mrs. Darche named a recent foreign novel which had been translated.
"Oh, that thing!" exclaimed her father-in-law. "Why, it is all about Frenchmen and tea parties! Very dull. Very dull. But then a busy man like myself has very little time for such nonsense. Mr. Trehearne, I suppose I could not give you any idea of the amount of work I have to do."
He looked at Vanbrugh as he spoke.
"Trehearne?" Brett repeated the name in a low voice, looking at Mrs. Darche.
"I know you are one of the busiest men alive," said Vanbrugh quietly and without betraying the slightest astonishment.
"I should think so," said Simon Darche, "and I am very glad I am. Nothing keeps a man busy like being successful. And I may fairly say that I have been very successful—thanks to John, well—I suppose I may take a little credit to myself."
"Indeed you may," said Mrs. Darche readily.
Every one thought it wise and proper to join in a little murmur of approval, but Dolly was curious to see what the old gentleman would say next. She wondered whether his taking Vanbrugh for old Mr. Trehearne, who had been a friend of his youth and who had been dead some years, was the first sign of mental decay. From Mrs. Darche's calm manner she inferred that this was not the first time he had done something of the kind, and her mind went back quickly to her conversation with Vanbrugh that morning in Gramercy Park. Simon Darche was still talking.
"The interests of the Company are becoming positively gigantic, and there seems to be no end to the fresh issues that are possible, though none of them have been brought to me to sign yet."
Brett looked quickly at Vanbrugh, but the latter was imperturbable.
At that moment the door opened and John Darche entered the dining-room. His face was a little paler than usual and he seemed tired. Mrs. Darche looked at him in surprise and her father-in-law smiled as he always did when he saw his son. Every one present said something more or less incomprehensible by way of greeting. The new-comer shook hands with Dolly Maylands, nodded to the rest and sat down in the place which was always reserved for him opposite his wife.
"I had nothing particular to do, so I came home to luncheon," he said, by way of explaining his unexpected appearance.
"I am so glad."
"Nothing particular to do!" exclaimed the old gentleman momentarily surprised into his senses.
"Nothing requiring my presence," answered John Darche gravely. "I was down town early this morning and cleared off everything. I shall ride this afternoon."
"Quite right, quite right, my boy!" put in Simon Darche. "You should take care of your health. You have been doing too much of late. I suppose," he added, looking about at the others, "that there is not a man alive who has my son's power of work."
"You do work dreadfully hard, John," said Mrs. Darche.
"But then," said her father-in-law with evident pride, "John leads such a regular life. He does not drink, he does not smoke, he does not sit up late at night—altogether, I must say that he takes better care of himself than I ever did. And that is the reason," continued the old gentleman with increasing animation, "that he has accomplished so much. If some of you young men would follow his example you would do a great deal more in the world. Regular hours, regular meals, no cocktails—oh I daresay if I had never smoked a cigar in my life I should be good for another fifty years. John will live to be a hundred."
"Let us hope so," said Vanbrugh blandly.
"What is this particular disagreeable thing you have given me to eat?" inquired John looking at his wife.
Mrs. Darche looked up in surprise. The remark was quite in keeping with his usual manner, but it was very unlike him to notice anything that was put before him.
"I believe it is a shad," she said.
"Yes, I suppose it is," answered John. "The thing has bones in it. Give me something else, Stubbs."
He got something else to eat and relapsed into silence. The remainder of the luncheon was not gay, for his coming had chilled even Dolly's good spirits. Brett and Vanbrugh did their best to sustain the conversation, but the latter felt more certain than ever that something serious was the matter. Old Simon Darche meandered on, interspersing his praise of his son and his boasts of the prosperity of the Company with stale proverbs
