








THE BROTHER OF DAPHNE

by

Dornford Yates




Chapter I       Punch and Judy
Chapter II      Clothes and the man
Chapter III     When it was dark
Chapter IV      Adam and New Year's eve
Chapter V       The Judgement of Paris
Chapter VI      Which to adore
Chapter VII     Every picture tells a story
Chapter VIII    The Busy Beers
Chapter IX      A point of honour
Chapter X       Pride goeth before
Chapter XI      The love scene
Chapter XII     The order of the bath
Chapter XIII    A lucid interval
Chapter XIV     A private view
Chapter XV      All found




CHAPTER I

PUNCH AND JUDY

"I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in her
long chair.

I stopped swinging my legs and looked at her.

"Did you, indeed," I said coldly.

My sister nodded dreamily.

"Then you lied, darling.  In your white throat," I said pleasantly.

"By the way, d'you know if the petrol's come?"

"I don't even care," said Daphne.  "But I didn't lie, old chap.  My
word is--"

"Your bond?  Quite so.  But not mine.  The appointment I have in Town
that day--"

"Which day?" said Daphne, with a faint smile.

"The fete day."

"Ah!"

It was a bazaar fete thing.  Daphne and several others--euphemistically
styled workers--had conspired and agreed together to obtain money by
false pretences for and on behalf of a certain mission, to wit the
Banana.  I prefer to put it that way.  There is a certain smack about
the wording of an indictment.  Almost a relish.  The fact that two
years before I had been let in for a stall and had defrauded fellow men
and women of a considerable sum of money, but strengthened my
determination not to be entrapped again.  At the same time I realized
that I was up against it.

The crime in question was fixed for Wednesday or Thursday--so much I
knew.  But no more.  There was the rub.  I really could not toil up to
Town two days running.

"Let's see," I said carelessly, "the fete's on--er--Wednesday, or
Thursday, is it?"

"Which day are you going up to Town?" said Daphne.  I changed my ground.

"The Bananas are all right," I said, lighting a cigarette.

"They only ate a missionary the other day," said my sister.

"That's bad," said I musingly.  "To any nation the consumption of home
produce is of vital--"

"We want to make sixty pounds."

"To go towards their next meal?  How much do missionaries cost?"

"To save their souls alive," said Daphne zealously.

"I'm glad something's to be saved alive," said I.

Before she could reply, tea began to appear. When the footman had
retired to fetch the second instalment of accessories, I pointed the
finger of scorn at the table, upon which he had set the tray.

"That parody emanated from a bazaar," I said contemptuously.

"It does for the garden," said my sister.

"It'd do for anything," said I.  "Its silly sides, its crazy legs-"

"Crazy?" cried Daphne indignantly.  "It'd bear an elephant."

"What if it would?" I said severely.  "It's months since we gave up the
elephants."

"Is the kettle ready?"

"It boils not, neither does it sing."

"For which piece of irreverence you will do something on Thursday."

"My dear girl," I said hurriedly, "if it were not imperative for me to
be in Town--"

"You will do something on Thursday."  I groaned.

"And this," I said, "this is my mother's daughter!  We have been nursed
together, scolded together, dandled in the same arms.  If she had not
been the stronger of the two, we should have played with the same toys."

I groaned again.  Berry opened his eyes.

"The value of a siesta upon a summer afternoon--" he began.

I cut in with a bitter laugh.  "What's he going to do?" I said.

"Take a stall, of course," said Daphne.

"Is he?" said Berry comfortably.  "Is he?  If motoring with Jonah to
Huntercombe, and playing golf all day, is not incompatible with taking
a stall on Thursday, I will sell children's underwear and egg cosies
with eclat.  Otherwise--"

"Golf," I said, "golf!  Why