to lay the case before my mother. I
determined to repeat to her, as nearly as possible, verbatim, the whole
conversation which had taken place in the greenhouse. I knew that I
should feel foolish while making these confidences. I should, indeed,
appear positively ridiculous when I asked my mother to settle the
question which troubled me. But my mother is extraordinarily sympathetic
and, in any case, it was better to suffer as a fool than to continue to
be the prey of perplexity. I sighed a little when I recollected that my
mother had a keen sense of the ridiculous and that my dilemma was very
likely indeed to appeal to it.

I found my mother in the drawing-room with the remains of afternoon tea
still spread on a small table before her. I had just time to notice
that two people had been drinking tea and that the second cup, balanced
precariously on the arm of a chair, was half full. Then my mother
crossed the room rapidly and kissed me three times. She may have done
such a thing before. I think it likely that she did when I was a baby.
She certainly never kissed me more than once at a time since I was old
enough to remember what she did.

"I'm so delighted," she said, "so very delighted. I can't tell you how
glad I am."

This remark, taken in connection with the kisses which preceded it,
could only have one meaning. I realized at once that I actually was
going to marry Lalage. I was not exactly surprised, but the news was so
very important that I felt it right to make absolutely certain of its
truth.

"You're quite sure, I suppose?" I said.

"Lalage has been here with me. She has only just gone."

"Then we may regard it as settled."

"You silly boy! Haven't you been settling it for the last hour?"

"That's exactly what I want to know. Have I? I mean to say, have we?"

"Lalage seems to think you have."

"That's all right then. She'd be sure to know."

"How can you talk like that when you've arranged everything down to the
minutest details?"

This startled me. I felt it necessary to ask for more information.

"Would you mind recapitulating the details? I'm a little confused about
them."

"You're to wait till the Archdeacon is actually bishop," said my mother,
"and then he's to marry you."

"Is that your plan or Lalage's?"

"Lalage's, of course. I suppose it's yours too."

"I'm sorry," I said, "to find that Lalage is so vindictive. I hoped that
she'd have been more ready to forgive and forget."

"I