More Dolly Dialogues/"Ancient History"

'VE been hearing: something about you, Mr. Carter," Dolly remarked, stroking the Persian kitten which she has bought to match her hair.

"I'm very weak. I shall like to hear it, too." And I sat down.

Dolly kissed the kitten and went on, "About you and Dulcie Mildmay."

"That's very ancient history," said I, rather disgusted.

"You admit it is history, though?"

"History is what women have agreed to repeat, Lady Mickleham."

"Oh, if you're going to take it like that! I thought we were friends—and"

"There is no greater mark of friendship," I observed, "than a complete absence of interest in one's doings."

"An absence of interest?" smiled Dolly, re-tying the kitten's bow in a meditative way.

"It makes the heart grow fonder (not, of course, that that's always desirable). You notice, for example, that I don't ask where Archie is. It's not my business for me that he isn't here."

"You always were easily pleased," said Dolly kindly.

"So with you and me. When we are together, we are"

"Friends," said she, with a touch of firmness, as I thought.

"We are, as I was about to say, happy. When I'm away, what am I to you? Nothing!"

"Well, I've an awful lot to do," murmured Dolly.

"And what are you to me?" I pursued. "A pleasant memory!"

"Thank you, Mr. Carter. But about Dulcie Mildmay?"

"Very well—only I wish you'd be a little more recent."

"You were in love with her, you know."

"I trust I'm always ready to learn," said I, resignedly.

"Oh, it's not as if I meant there was anything—anything there oughtn't to be."

"Then indeed we would discuss it."

"It was long before she married."

"You must really forgive me, then. She married in '90. April 15th, to be precise. I beg your pardon, Lady Mickleham?"

"I just smiled. You've such a splendid memory for dates."

"Uncle Joseph died that week and left me a legacy."

"It's really no use. Mr. Carter. Mrs. Hilary told me all about it."

"I never can conceal anything I don't do, from Mrs. Hilary."

"You very nearly proposed to Dulcie, down the river one day. She had great difficulty in stopping you."

"Preposterous! Is there ever any difficulty in stopping me?"

Dolly placed the kitten on her left shoulder—so that it could rub its face against her ear. This action had all the effect of an observation.

"Though what you saw in her I can't think," she added.

"You should have asked me at the time," said I.

"Anyhow, you were quite depressed for a month afterwards—Mrs. Hilary said so."

"Occasionally," I remarked, "Mrs. Hilary does me justice. I should have been depressed, only"

"Only what?"

"Thankfulness supervened," said I.

"Then you did nearly"

"Oh, well, I was a little tempted, perhaps."

"You oughtn't to yield to temptation."

"Well, somebody must, or the thing becomes absurd," said I.

"I shall have to keep my eye on you, Mr. Carter."

"Well, I like having pretty things about"

"That's rather obvious," interrupted Dolly scornfully.

"And so," I pursued, "I daresay I enjoyed myself with Dulcie Mildmay."

Dolly put the kitten down on the floor with quite a bump. I took my hat.

"Your story," said I, as I brushed my hat, "hasn't come to much, Lady Mickleham." Dolly was not put out; nay, she picked up the kitten again and started rubbing its fur the wrong way.

"When yon were a child, Mr. Carter" she began.

"Dear, dear!" I murmured, stroking the crown of my head.

"Did you use to tell the truth?"

I put my hat back on the table. The conversation began to interest me.

"You may have noticed," said I, "that I am a man of method!"

"You do call regularly," Dolly agreed.

"I was the same at the B. C. sort of period you refer to. I had an invariable rule. I lied first."

"Yes, and then?"

"Oh, they made a row. Then I told the truth, and was rewarded. If I'd told the truth the first time, you see, I should have got nothing. the thing would have degenerated into a matter of course, and I should have lost the benefit of confession."

"You got off, I suppose, by confessing?"

"I did. A halcyon period, Lady Mickleham. In later life one gets off by professing. Have you observed the difference?"

"Professing what?"

"An attachment to somebody else, to be sure. Weren't we talking of Dulcie Mildmay?"

"I asked you that question because Mrs. Hilary's little girl"

"I am acquainted with that sad episode," I interposed. "Indeed, I took occasion to observe that I hoped it would make Mrs. Hilary more charitable to other people. As a matter of fact, it rather pleased me. Righteousness shouldn't run in families. It is all very well as a 'Sport,' but"

"I don't see much sport in it," interrupted Dolly.

"I was speaking scientifically"

"Then please don't." She paused and resumed, in a thoughtful tone, "It reminded me of my first flirtation."

"This is, indeed, ancient history," I cried.

"Yes, I'm twenty-four."

In silent sympathy we stroked opposite ends of the Persian kitten.

"I didn't care one bit about him," Dolly resumed.

"Art for art's sake," said I, nodding approvingly.

"But there was nothing else to do, and"

"Are you busy this afternoon?"

"I was only sixteen, and not very particular. I met him at the Wax-works"

"Are they so called because they make parents angry?"

"There was a hospital close to, and by an unlucky chance our vicar induced mamma to visit it. Well, we ran into mamma coming out, you see."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Oh, I said I'd met him when I was with papa at Kissingen. Don't make another pun, please."

"Did papa play up?"

"I hadn't time to see him first," said Dolly sadly. "Mamma drove down and picked him up in the City."

"I detest a suspicious temperament like that," said I. "What did it come to?"

"No parties, and extra French for weeks," sighed Dolly. "Mamma said she wouldn't have minded if only I'd spoken the truth."

"If she really meant that," I remarked cautiously, "there was the basis of an understanding."

"Of course she didn't. That was just rubbing it in, you know."

We relapsed into a pensive silence. Dolly gave the kitten milk; I pulled its tail. We had become quite thoughtful.

"I always tell the truth now, except to the Dowager," said Dolly presently.

"It doesn't do to be quixotic," I agreed. "Telling the truth to people who misunderstand you is really promoting falsehood, isn't it?"

"That's rather a good idea," said Dolly. "And if you"

"Adapt?"

"Yes—why, then they get it just right, don't they? You think of quite sensible things sometimes, Mr. Carter."

"Often when I'm not with you," said I.

"And I suppose you adapted in telling me about Dulcie Mildmay?"

"Do you know, I've a sort of idea that I confused her with somebody else."

"That's not very complimentary."

"Oh, I don't know. I remember the scene so well. It was in a backwater under a tree. There was a low bough over the water, and she"

"Who?" asked Dolly, resuming exclusive possession of the kitten.

"Well, whoever it was—hung her hat on the bough. It was about eight o'clock, a very pleasant evening. I happen to recollect that the cushions were blue. And she wore blue. And I was blue, until Did you say that she refused me?"

"Mrs. Hilary says she didn't let it come to that."

"Mrs. Hilary is right, as usual. We got home at ten, and Your mother couldn't have meant what she said, I think."

"I don't see how mamma comes in," said Dolly, in a voice muffled by kitten fur.

"Because her mother minded considerably, although we spoke the truth."

"What did you do that for?" asked Dolly reprovingly. "Oh, because other people had seen us from a punt. So we just said that time had flown—not, perhaps, a particularly tactful thing to say. And that's the whole truth about Dulcie Mildmay."

I rose and took my hat again—as if I meant it this time, too. Dolly rose, too, and held out one hand to me; the other contained the kitten.

"What was the hat like?" asked Dolly.

"Just such a hat as you'd wear yourself," said I.

"I never wear hats like Dulcie Mildmay's."

"I told you there was a mistake somewhere," I observed triumphantly.

Dolly smiled; she looked up at me (well, I'm taller than she is, of course).

"Yes, I expect there is," said she. "But do you see any particular good in telling Mrs. Hilary so?"

"She wouldn't believe it."

"No—and"

"It is, as you observed, so uncomplimentary to Mrs. Mildmay."

"And it's all such very Ancient History!"

I don't think anything more of interest occurred that afternoon—anyhow—nothing more about Dulcie Mildmay.

Copyright, 1900, by the S. S. McClure Co., in the United States of America.