Dolly Dialogues Part 21

"You're not meant to hear," said Dolly, without turning round.

"Yet, if it's a discovery, he ought to hear it."

"He's made a good many lately," said Dolly.

She dug out the last bit of pate, flung it to the dog, and handed the empty pot to me.

"Don't be so allegorical," I implored. "Besides, it's really not just to Archie. No doubt the dog is a nice one, but--"

"How foolish you are this morning! What's the discovery?"

"An entirely surprising one."

"Oh, but let me hear! It's nothing about Archie, is it?"

"No, I've told you all Archie's sins."

"Nor Mrs. Hilary? I wish it was Mrs. Hilary!"

"Shall we walk on the terrace?" I suggested.

"Oh, yes, let's," said Dolly, stepping out, and putting on a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, which she caught up from a chair hard by. "It isn't Mrs. Hilary?" she added, sitting down on a garden seat.

"No," said I, leaning on a sundial which stood by the seat.

"Well, what is it?"

"It is simple," said I, "and serious. It is not, therefore, like you, Lady Mickleham."

"It's like Mrs. Hilary," said Dolly.

"No; because it isn't pleasant. By the way, you are jealous of Mrs.

Hilary?"

Dolly said nothing at all. She took off her hat, roughened her hair a little, and a.s.sumed an effective pose. Still, it is a fact (for what it is worth) that she doesn't care much about Mrs. Hilary.

"The discovery," I continued, "is that I'm growing middle-aged."

"You are middle-aged," said Dolly, spearing her hat with its long pin.

I was, very naturally, nettled at this.

"So will you be soon," I retorted.

"Not soon," said Dolly.

"Some day," I insisted.

After a pause of about half a minute, Dolly said, "I suppose so."

"You will become," I pursued, idly drawing patterns with my finger on the sundial, "wrinkled, rough, fat--and, perhaps, good."

"You're very disagreeable today," said Dolly.

She rose and stood by me.

"What do the mottoes mean?" she asked.

There were two; I will not say they contradicted one another, but they looked at life from different points of view.

"Pereunt et imputantur," I read.

"Well, what's that, Mr. Carter?"

"A trite, but offensive, a.s.sertion," said I, lighting a cigarette.

"But what does it mean?" she asked, a pucker on her forehead.

"What does it matter?" said I. "Let's try the other."

"The other is longer."

"And better. Horas non numero nisi serenas."

"And what's that?"

I translated literally. Dolly clapped her hands, and her face gleamed with smiles.

"I like that one," she cried.

"Stop!" said I imperatively. "You'll set it moving!"

"It's very sensible," said she.

"More freely rendered, it means, I live only when you--"

"By Jove!" remarked Archie, coming up behind us, pipe in mouth, "there was a lot of rain last night. I've just measured it in the gauge."

"Some people measure everything," said I, with a displeased air. "It is a detestable habit."

"Archie, what does Pereunt et imputantur mean?"

"Eh? Oh, I see. Well, I say, Carter!--Oh, well, you know, I suppose it means you've got to pay for your fun, doesn't it?"

"Oh, is that all? I was afraid it was something horrid. Why did you frighten me, Mr. Carter?"

"I think it is rather horrid," said I.