"Yes, and a rattling good chap, too. Sylvia's liked him for ages, and he didn't like to come up to the scratch because he was hard up. Now something's turned up. Old Ridokanaki's written him a letter--wants him to go into his bank. He'll have three thousand a year. It's only _habit_ with the Governor to pretend to mind. But a few words with you will settle it. I'll tell you more about it later on." "I _am_ amazed at the news, Savile. He's a very fine young man, but----" "He's all right, Aunt William." "But I thought the Greek gentleman with the unpronounceable name was madly in love with Sylvia himself? I've often talked it over with your father. He and I took opposite views." "So he was, but he's got some one else now. It's simply _got_ to come off. Now _will_ you come and see us?" "Certainly. When?" "As soon as possible. I wish you'd come now." "But this is my Day, Savile! How can I go out on my _Day_?" "Of course you can. You'll have heaps of other days, but none like this--for Sylvia." Aunt William hesitated, then her intense romantic curiosity got the upper hand. "Savile, I'll come back with you now! Do you think James will listen to reason? He never agrees with me. And I don't know yet what to think myself." "Of course he will. You're a brick, Aunt William. I'll tell you more about it in the cab. It's as right as rain for Sylvia, or you may be pretty certain _I_ shouldn't have allowed it," said Savile. To get Aunt William to go out on her Day, a thing she had not done for thirty years, was so great a triumph that he had little fear of not getting her to be on the right side. He knew she always made a point of disagreeing with his father on every subject under heaven, so he rubbed in Sir James's opposition, and gradually worked on her sentimental side until she was almost tearfully enthusiastic. "How shall I behave? Go right in and tell your father he must consent?--or what?" "Play for safety," said Savile. CHAPTER XXVIII THE TWELFTH HOUR Sir James was extremely annoyed with the weather. In his young days, as he remarked with bitterness, spring was spring, and it didn't thunder and snow in April. He was prattling pompously of the sunshine in the past, when a sudden heavy shower of hail, falling rather defiantly in spite of his hints, made him lose his temper. Sir James, looking angrily up at the sky, declared that unless it stopped within half an hour he would write to the _Times_ about it. Whether or not this threat had any real meteorological influence, there is no doubt that the clouds dispersed rather hastily, the sun hurriedly appeared, and the weather promptly prepared to enable Sir James to venture out, which he did with a gracious wave of the hand to the entire horizon, as though willing to say no more about it.