The Little Warrior - Penn State University

look after the trunks. You remember which they are?
The steamer trunk, the other trunk, the black box …
Very well. Then make haste. And, when you’ve got
them all together, tell the porter to find you a fourwheeler.
The small things will go inside. Drive to the
Savoy and ask for my suite. If they make any difficulty,
tell them that I engaged the rooms yesterday by
telegraph from Mentone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“Then go along. Oh, and give the porter sixpence.
Sixpence is ample.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
The little maid, grasping the jewel-case, trotted off
beside the now pessimistic porter, who had started on
this job under the impression that there was at least a
bob’s-worth in it. The remark about the sixpence had
jarred the porter’s faith in his species.
Derek approached, acutely conscious of Freddie,
Ronny, and Algy, who were skirmishing about his flank.
He had enough to worry him without them. He had
listened with growing apprehension to the catalogue
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of his mother’s possessions. Plainly this was no flying
visit. You do not pop over to London for a day or two
with a steamer trunk, another trunk, a black box, a
suit-case, and a small brown bag. Lady Underhill had
evidently come prepared to stay; and the fact seemed
to presage trouble.
“Well, mother! So there you are at last!”
“Well, Derek!”
Derek kissed his mother. Freddie, Ronny, and Algy
shuffled closer, like leopards. Freddie, with the expression
of one who leads a forlorn hope, moved his Adam’s
apple briskly up and down several times, and spoke.
“How do you do, Lady Underhill?”
“How do you do, Mr Rooke?”
Lady Underhill bowed stiffly and without pleasure.
She was not fond of the Last of the Rookes. She supposed
the Almighty had had some wise purpose in creating
Freddie, but it had always been inscrutable to
her.
“Like you,” mumbled Freddie, “to meet my friends.
Lady Underhill. Mr Devereux.”