"Ruggles shall do everything: take it off our shoulders—ices, flowers, invitations."
"The invitation list will need great care, of course," remarked Belknap-Jackson with a quite savage glance at me.
"But you just called him 'the capable Ruggles,'" insisted the fiancée. "We shall leave it all to him. How many will you ask, Ruggles?" Her eyes flicked from mine to Belknap-Jackson.
"Quite almost every one," I answered firmly.
"Fine!" she said.
"Ripping!" said his lordship.
"His lordship will of course wish a best man," suggested Belknap-Jackson. "I should be only too glad"
"You're going to suggest Ruggles again!" cried the lady. "Just the man for it! You're quite right. Why, we owe it all to Ruggles, don't we?"
She here beamed upon his lordship. Belknap-Jackson wore an expression of the keenest disrelish.
"Of course, course!" replied his lordship. "Dashed good man, Ruggles! Owe it all to him, what, what!"
I fancy in the cordial excitement of the moment he was quite sincere. As to her ladyship, I am to this day unable to still a faint suspicion that she was having me on. True, she owed it all to me. But I hadn't a bit meant it and well she knew it. Subtle she was, I dare say, but bore me no malice, though she was not above setting Belknap-Jackson back a pace or two each time he moved up.
A final toast was drunk and my guests drifted out. Belknap-Jackson again glared savagely at me as he went, but Mrs. Effie rather outglared him. Even I should hardly have cared to face her at that moment.
