Mr. Hoopdriver helped himself to some eggs, but instead of eating them, he rested his cheek on his hand and watched Jessie pour the coffee.
His ears were bright red, and his eyes looked unusually serious.
He picked up his cup awkwardly, cleared his throat, leaned back, and shoved both hands deep into his pockets.
“I’ll do it,” he suddenly said.
“Do what?” Jessie asked, looking up over the coffee pot. She had just started eating her scrambled eggs.
“Tell you the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“About myself.”
He paused, then looked directly at her.
“Miss Milton, I’m a liar.”
He tilted his head and frowned as if he were preparing himself for a very difficult task.
Then he said slowly and firmly, “I’m a draper.”
“You’re a draper? I thought…”
“You thought wrong.”
He gave a nervous little gesture.
“But sooner or later, you were bound to find out. The pins, the way I behave, all those strange habits of mine… It was becoming obvious.”
“I’m only a draper’s assistant,” he continued. “I got ten days off for a holiday. That’s all I am. Just a shop assistant. A man who stands behind a counter.”
“There’s nothing shameful about being a draper’s assistant,” Jessie said.
She was beginning to understand what he was trying to tell her.
“Yes, there is,” Hoopdriver replied bitterly.
“At least, there is for a man in this country. I’m just another man’s employee. I have to wear whatever clothes I’m told to wear, work the hours they give me, and even go to church when it suits the customers.”
He shook his head.
“There’s hardly another job where a man has to put up with so much. Even a drunken bricklayer has more freedom.”
“But why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you need to know who I really am.”
“But, Mr. Benson…”
“That isn’t all.”
He took a breath.
“If you don’t mind, there are a few more things I have to tell you. I can’t keep deceiving you.”
He looked down at the table.
“My name isn’t Benson.”
Jessie stared at him.
“I don’t know why I told you that name. I suppose I was being foolish. I wanted to seem like someone more important than I really am.”
He gave a small, embarrassed smile.
“My real name is Hoopdriver.”
“Yes?”
“And all that stuff I told you about South Africa…”
He hesitated.
“And the lion?”
“Lies.”
“Lies?”
“Yes.”
He seemed determined to get everything out now.
“The diamond shares I told you about? Lies.”
“And all those stories about giraffes?”
“Lies too.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve never even been to Africa. I certainly never rode a giraffe. I’d have been terrified.”
Jessie looked at him in complete confusion.
“But why would you tell me all those things?”
“I don’t know.”
He sighed.
“I suppose I wanted to impress you. I was being a fool.”
He looked at her more seriously.
“But somehow, after spending these last few days with you, I wanted you to know the truth.”
Neither of them touched their breakfast for a moment.
“I thought about it almost all night,” Hoopdriver continued.
“I kept thinking about what a ridiculous imitation of a man I had been pretending to be.”
Jessie slowly looked at him.
“So you don’t have diamond shares?”
“No.”
“And you’re not planning to enter Parliament?”
“No.”
“And you’re not…”
“All lies,” he said heavily.
“Every word of it.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I don’t even know how I managed to tell so many lies.”
Jessie simply stared at him.
“I’ve never set foot in Africa in my life,” Hoopdriver added.
Then, as though he had finally survived the worst part of the ordeal, he pulled his hand from his pocket and calmly drank his coffee.
Jessie was silent for a while.
“It’s rather surprising,” she finally said.
“Think about it,” Hoopdriver replied.
“I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”
They returned to their breakfast.
But neither of them had much appetite.
Jessie ate very little, clearly lost in thought.
Hoopdriver, meanwhile, was so nervous that he ate far more than usual. He even found himself eating his scrambled eggs with the spoon that was meant for the marmalade.
His eyes remained fixed on the table.
Jessie occasionally glanced at him.
Several times she seemed about to laugh.
At other moments, she looked almost offended.
Finally she spoke.
“I don’t know what to think of you, brother Chris.”
Hoopdriver looked up.
“I thought you were completely honest.”
He waited.
“And somehow…”
“Somehow what?”
“I still think you are.”
Hoopdriver looked genuinely puzzled.
“Honest?”
“After all those lies?”
Jessie smiled faintly.
“I wonder.”
“I don’t,” Hoopdriver said.
“I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. But at least I’ve stopped lying to you.”
Jessie lowered her eyes.
“I always thought that story about the lion…”
“Good heavens!” Hoopdriver cried.
“Please don’t remind me of that.”
“I knew something about your stories didn’t sound quite right.”
She suddenly laughed when she saw his miserable expression.
“But of course you’re honest,” she said.
“How could I ever have doubted it?”
She paused.
“I understand now. I’ve pretended to be things I wasn’t too.”
Hoopdriver stared at her.
Jessie suddenly stood up and held out her hand across the breakfast table.
He looked at her uncertainly.
There was a warm, friendly sparkle in her eyes.
Slowly, he stood.
He was still holding the marmalade spoon when he took her hand.
“Good Lord,” he murmured.
Then he stopped himself.
Jessie sat down again, and Hoopdriver followed.
“I understand everything now,” she said.
“You did all this because you wanted to help me.”
Hoopdriver looked embarrassed.
“And you thought I was too conventional to accept help from someone I might consider socially beneath me.”
“That was part of it,” he admitted.
Jessie shook her head with a smile.
“How completely you misunderstood me!”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind?”
She laughed.
“It was actually rather noble of you.”
Then her expression became more serious.
“But I’m sorry you thought I would be ashamed of you simply because you have an ordinary job.”
“I didn’t understand you at first,” Hoopdriver said quietly.
Jessie smiled.
“And now?”
Hoopdriver looked relieved.
Now he could breathe again.
He was a respectable working man. There was nothing disgraceful about that.
In fact, Jessie seemed to think he was a perfectly useful member of society.
Even his foolish lies had somehow been given the most generous interpretation possible.
The breakfast ended far more happily than Hoopdriver had dared to hope.
Soon afterward, the two of them rode out of the little town of Blandford.
For the first time in days, Hoopdriver felt that nothing stood between them.