Trix affected dense unconsciousness; her
mother allowed herself a mysterious smile--which, however,
speedily vanished when the curate (he was taking lunch with us)
observed in a cheerful tone:
"Newhaven! Oh, I remember the chap at the House--plowed twice in
Smalls--stumpy fellow, isn't he? Not a bad chap, though, you
know, barring his looks. I'm glad he's coming."
"You won't be soon, young man," Lady Queenborough's angry eye
seemed to say.
"I remember him," pursued Jack; "awfully smitten with a
tobacconist's daughter in the Corn--oh, it's all RIGHT, Lady
Queenborough--she wouldn't look at him."
This quasi apology was called forth by the fact of Lady
Queenborough pushing back her chair and making for the door. It
did not at all appease her to hear of the scorn of the
tobacconist's daughter. She glanced sternly at Jack and
disappeared. He turned to Trix and reminded her--without
diffidence and coram populo, as his habit was--that she
had promised him a stroll in the west wood.
What happened on that stroll I do not know; but meeting Miss Trix
on the stairs later in the afternoon, I ventured to remark:
"I hope you broke it to him gently, Miss Queenborough?"
"I don't know what you mean," replied Trix haughtily.
"You were out nearly two hours," said I.
"Were we?" asked Trix, with a start. "Good gracious! Where was
mamma, Mr. Wynne?"
"On the lawn--watch in hand.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80