The preoccupied
Irishman was equally inaccessible on all three subjects. When the
dessert was placed on the table--still bent on making himself agreeable
to Lady Harry--Mr. Vimpany led the conversation to the subject of
floriculture. In the interests of her ladyship's pretty little garden,
he advocated a complete change in the system of cultivation, and
justified his revolutionary views by misquoting the published work of a
great authority on gardening with such polite obstinacy that Iris
(eager to confute him) went away to fetch the book. The moment he had
entrapped her into leaving the room, the doctor turned to Lord Harry
with a sudden change to the imperative mood in look and manner.
"What have you been about," he asked, "since we had that talk in the
Gardens to-day? Have you looked at your empty purse, and are you wise
enough to take my way of filling it?"
"As long as there's the ghost of a chance left to me," Lord Harry
replied, "I'll take any way of filling my purse but yours."
"Does that mean you have found a way?"
"Do me a favour, Vimpany. Defer all questions till the end of the
week."
"And then I shall have your answer?"
"Without fail, I promise it.
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