“Why then, Sir James,” cried Mr. Bellairs. “Romeo is none so penniless but that he can back his own word. I’m ready to wager Sir Jasper this moment as much as he cares to risk that Miss Pamela Pounce—who is not French, sir, but good Kentish stock—will send him to the right-about, as she has sent—aye, though ’tis I say it—a better man! That all his money-bags will not weigh this nutshell”—he crushed one under his clenched hand on the mahogany as he spoke—“against her virtue.”
Sir Jasper grew red in the face; his eyes protruded, his veins swelled.
“Why, done with you, you poor innocent——”
“Stay, stay,” intervened Sir James. “If there’s to be betting, let’s do it proper, a’ Heaven’s name! In primo, what is the wager to be?”
Sir Jasper and Bellairs spoke together:
“That pretty Pounce will pounce fast enough if it is made worth her while,” cried Sir Jasper, with a guffaw. And:
“That Sir Jasper has about as much chance of Miss Pamela Pounce’s favour as of the Princess Royal’s,” asserted Bellairs.
“Now, tut, tut!” Sir James Devlin shook his head and clacked his tongue. “If I’m to draw up your wager, gentlemen, you must, if you please, be a trifle less slipshod. You can’t bet on a pun, Sir Jasper, nor you on a high-falutin’ comparison to royal ladies, young man. You’ve got to bet on facts, my lads. Say, that a week from to-day we find the young person agreeably installed under the protection of our host here, in—better say London—eh, Jasper? Might be a bit awkward, too close to Miss’s family, what? Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs here to be given ocular proof that circumstances alter cases. Let your charmer ask him to tea in her new abode this day week.”
“Carry her off, carry her off, good old style. Tally-ho!” cried the tipsy squire.
“Capital idea!” Mr. Grinder shook with amusement. “Run away with her! Carry her off, and keep her from the hats and feathers, Sir Jasper, and I’ll see that you get Little Pitfold at long last. We’ll foreclose for the rest of the mortgage. Zounds, we will! Drat that girl! She’s been paying off at an uncommon quick rate. Took my breath away, she did. We had to give old Pounce a couple of years for the look of the thing, you remember—never dreaming—But there! Time will be up next Lady Day, and”—he broke into dry chuckling—“if you carry off the girl you’ll win your wager, and get your land into the bargain. Kill two birds with one stone.”