“Allow me, my dear,” said he, and with what Pamela thought an insufferable free-and-easiness, lifted her bandboxes one after the other into the passage, and literally bowed her out.
She stood, snapping her fingers and biting her nails, to linger and listen as long as she dared. Up to this she had after all but poor gleanings to bring back to her Aunt Lydia for the retailing into her patroness’s ear, save, indeed, the sad verification of my Lord’s presence in the Minx’s lodgings. But she saw that she was suspected by one, if not both, of the gentlemen, and however necessary it is for a young milliner to make quite certain that the cords of her boxes are properly tied, it is not an operation that can be prolonged indefinitely. Some phrases she did catch.
“The joke of it is that the Prince,” Mr. Stafford was observing.
The rest of the remark was lost; it was followed by a crow from Molly Lafone.
“Not to be there, after all? Serve her right!” Then in another tone. “Oh, I have the drollest inspiration!”
“Hush!”
Pounce pricked her ear to its utmost alertness.
“I have the drollest inspiration,” said Mrs. Lafone. “Since you say, Tom, you’re poz that His Royal Highness don’t mean to attend my Lady’s ball—and I say it serves her right—why should you not go in his stead?”
“Go in his stead?” Mr. Stafford blankly repeated then. “You’re crazy, Molly!”
“And not at all! Oh, it can be managed, I do assure you! Oh, it would be too droll, too delightful! And it would be better than droll, for ’twould be a certain way to heal the breach, the sad, sad breach between our poor Kil and that same jealous Kitty. Pray, Brother-in-law, before you interrupt, let me speak one word! Kitty’s Royals, King, Queen and Princesses, will but pass through the Assembly Rooms. ’Tis the way of Royalty. ’Tis all anyone would expect of them, more especially as His Majesty is so out of health. What is to prevent the Prince changing his mind, and popping in for late supper? By the Prince, I mean you, Tom. Come now, you know ’tis a thing he might do very well. People would only say he could not bear the tedium of dancing at his Royal parents’ heels. Come now, Mr. Stafford, sir. I see it in your eye. You know ’tis a trick could be played on my Lady with perfect success? Oh, you need not present yourself on the scene till every one should have departed, save the select little circle, those sweet, dear, charming ladies and their stupid husbands, who won’t have anything to say to poor little me! And then, oh, Mr. Stafford, you must be monstrous charmed, and monstrous gallant, and—well, monstrous tipsy if you like, and you will but the closer ape our dear future Sovereign! And then (oh, how you gape!) don’t you see? You must kiss my Lady, and if she don’t have to forgive my Lord afterwards——”