Scrap wanted to know so much about her mother that Arundel had presently to invent. He would talk about anything she wished if only he might be with her for a while and see her and hear her, but he knew very little of the Droitwiches and their friends really--beyond meeting them at those bigger functions where literature is also represented, and amusing them at luncheons and dinners, he knew very little of them really. To them he had always remained Mr. Arundel; no one called him Ferdinand; and he only knew the gossip also available to the evening papers and the frequenters of clubs. But he was, however, good at inventing; and as soon as he had come to an end of first-hand knowledge, in order to answer her inquires and keep her there to himself he proceeded to invent. It was quite easy to fasten some of the entertaining things he was constantly thinking on to other people and pretend they were theirs. Scrap, who had that affection for her parents which warms in absence, was athirst for news, and became more and more interested by the news he gradually imparted.
At first it was ordinary news. He had met her mother here, and seen her there. She looked very well; she said so and so. But presently the things Lady Droitwich had said took on an unusual quality: they became amusing.
"Mother said that?" Scrap interrupted, surprised.
And presently Lady Droitwich began to do amusing things as well as say them.
"Mother did that?" Scrap inquired, wide-eyed.
Arundel warmed to his work. He fathered some of the most entertaining ideas he had lately had on to Lady Droitwich, and also any charming funny things that had been done--or might have been done, for he could imagine almost anything.
Scrap's eyes grew round with wonder and affectionate pride in her mother. Why, but how funny---fancy mother. What an old darling. Did she really do that? How perfectly adorable of her. And did she really say--but how wonderful of her to think of it. What sort of a face did Lloyd George make?
She laughed and laughed, and had a great longing to hug her mother, and the time flew, and it grew quite dusk, and it grew nearly dark, and Mr. Arundel still went on amusing her, and it was a quarter to eight before she suddenly remembered dinner.
"Oh, good heavens!" she exclaimed, jumping up.
"Yes. It's late," said Arundel.
"I'll go on quickly and send the maid to you. I must run, or I'll never be ready in time--"