“Oh, Auntie, please take Jenny to the Bering ball next week!” she said impulsively. “You will come, won’t you, sweet?”
Jennifer blushed and stammered.
“To be sure,” nodded her ladyship. “Of course she will come! James, sit down! You should know by now how the sight of anyone on their feet fatigues me, silly boy! Dear me, child, how like you are to your brother! Are you looking at my wig? Monstrous, isn’t it?” Jennifer was covered with confusion.
“Oh, no, ma’am, I-”
Her ladyship chuckled.
“Of; course you were. How could you help it? Cleone tells me it is a ridiculous creation, don’t you, my love?”
“I do, and I truly think it!” answered Cleone, her eyes dancing. “’Tis is just a little more impossible than the last.”
“There!” Lady Malmerstoke turned back to Jennifer. “She is an impertinent hussy, is she not?”
“Could she be impertinent?” asked James fondly. “Very easily she could, and is,” nodded her ladyship. “A minx.” “Oh!” Jennifer was shocked.
“Don’t attend to her!” besought Cleone. “Sometimes she is very ill-natured, as you see.” Jennifer ventured a very small laugh. She had resolutely dragged her eyes from the prodigious wig, and was now gazing at Cleone.
“You-you seem quite different,” she told her. Cleone shook her golden head.
“’Tis only that Aunt Sally has tricked me out in fine clothes,” she replied. “I’m-oh, I am the same!” she laughed, but not very steadily. “Am I not, James?”
“Always the same,” he said ardently. “Always beautiful.”
“I will not have it,” said Lady Malmerstoke severely. “You’ll turn the child’s head, if ’tis not turned already.”
“Oh, it is, it is!” cried Cleone. “I am quite too dreadfully vain! And there is the bell again! James, who is it? It’
s vastly bad-mannered to peep, but you may do it. Quick!” James went to the window.
“Too late,” he said. “They are in, whoever they are.”
“’Twill be Thomas,” decided Lady Malmerstoke. “I wonder if he is any fatter?” Jennifer giggled. She had never met anything quite like this queer, voluminous old lady before.
“Is-is Sir Maurice coming?” she inquired.
“I told him to be sure to come,” answered her ladyship. “You know him, don’t you?” “Oh, yes!” breathed Jennifer.
“Sah Maurice and Mr. Jettan,” announced the little black page.
“Drat!” said her ladyship. She rose. “Where’s your son?” she demanded, shaking her finger at Sir Maurice.
Sir Maurice kissed her hand.
“Sally, you grow ruder and ruder,” he reproved her.
“Maurice,” she retorted, “you were ever a punctilious ramrod. Philip’s the only one of you I want to see. He says such audacious things,” she explained. “So gratifying to an old woman. Well, Tom?”
Thomas bowed very low. “Well, Sally?”
“That’s not polite,” she said. “You can see I am very well. I declare you are growing thinner!” Thomas drew himself up sheepishly.
“Am I, my dear?”
Her ladyship gave a little crow of delight.
“You’ve been taking exercise!” she exclaimed. “If you continue at this rate-I vow I’ll marry you in a month!”
“I wish you would, my dear,” said Tom seriously.
“Oh, I shall one day, never fear!” She caught sight of Jennifer’s astonished expression and chuckled. “Now, Tom, behave yourself! You are shocking the child!” she whispered. “I? What have I done? She’s shocked at your forwardness!”
Sir Maurice had walked over to Cleone. She held out her hands, and he made as if to kiss them. She snatched them back.
“Oh, no, no!” she cried. “Sir Maurice!” He smiled down at her upturned face.
“In truth, my dear, you’ve so changed from the little Cleone I know that I dare take no liberties.”
Her mouth quivered suddenly; she caught at the lapels of his coat. “No, no, don’t say it, sir! I am the same! Oh I am, I am!”
“What’s Cleone doing?” inquired Lady Malmerstoke. “Kissing Maurice? Now who’s forward?”
Cleone smiled through her tears.
“You are, Aunt Sally. And you are in a very teasing humour!” Sir Maurice pressed her hands gently. He turned to the curtsying Jennifer. “Why, Jenny? This is a surprise! How are you, child?”
“Very well, I thank you, sir,” she answered. “Very happy to be in London.” “The first visit! Where are you staying?”
“With Grandmamma, out at Kensington,” she said. Lady Malmerstoke clutched Tom’s arm.
“Kensington, poor child!” she murmured. “For heaven’s sake everyone sit down! No, Maurice, that chair is too low for me. I’ll take the couch.” She proceeded to do so. As a matter of course, Tom sat down beside her. The others arranged themselves in two pairs, Sir Maurice leading Jennifer to a chair near the fire, and Cleone going to the window seat with the admiring James.
Five minutes later the bell rang for the third time, and Jennifer received the worst shock of the afternoon. The page announced Mr Philip Jettan, and Philip came into the room. Sir Maurice felt Jennifer’s start of surprise, and saw her stare past him as though she saw at least three ghosts.
Philip went to his hostess and dropped on one knee to kiss her hand. He was dressed in puce and old gold. Jennifer thought she had never seen anything so gorgeous, or so astonishing. She did not believe for a moment that it was her old playfellow, Philip. “Madame, I am late!” said Philip. “I ask a thousand pardons!”
“And you are sure you’ll receive them!” chuckled her ladyship. “I’d give them, but that it would fatigue me so. Where’s that ode? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten it!”
“Forgotten it! Never! It is a very beautiful ode, too, in my best style. Le voici,’” He handed her a rolled parchment sheet, tied with mauve ribbons, and with violets cunningly inserted. “You delightful boy!” cried her ladyship, inspecting it “Violets! How did you know they were my favourite flowers?”
“I knew instinctively,” answered Philip solemnly.
“Of course you did! But how charming of you! I declare I daren’t untie it till the violets are dead. Look, Tom, is it not pretty? And isn’t Philip sweet to write me an ode?” “I am looking,” said Tom gloomily. “Ye rascal, how dare you try to steal my lady’s heart away from me?”
“I should be more than human an I did not!” replied Philip promptly. Lady Malmerstoke was showing the dainty roll to Sir Maurice. “An ode to my wig,” she told him. “Written in French.” “An ode to your what?” asked Thomas.
“My wig, Tom, my wig! You were not here when we discussed it. Cleone thought it a prodigious ugly wig, but Philip would have none of it. He said such pretty things about it, and promised me an ode for it! Philip, did I thank you?”
Philip was bowing over Cleone’s hand. He turned.
“With your eyes, madame, eloquently! But I need no thanks; it was an honour and a joy.” “Think of that!” nodded my lady, looking from Tom to Sir Maurice. “Philip, come and be presented to Mistress Jennifer. Or do you know her?”
Philip released Cleone’s hand, and swung round.
“Jennifer! Of course I know her!” He went across the room. “Why, Jenny, where do you spring from? How are you?”
Jennifer gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Philip? Is-is it really-you?” she whispered.
“You didn’t know me? Jenny, how unkind! Surely I haven’t changed as much as that?” “Y-you have,” she averred. “More!”
“I have not, I swear I have not! Father, go away! Let me sit here and talk to Jennifer!” Only too glad to obey, Sir Maurice rose.
“He is very peremptory and autocratic, isn’t he, my dear?” he smiled. Philip sank into the vacated chair.
“I-I feel I ought to call you Mr Jettan!” said Jennifer. “Jenny! If you dare to do such a thing I shall-I shall-” “What will you do?”