“Why, that goes without saying,” exclaimed my Lady tartly, “since I made the match, Miss Pounce. Sir Jasper Standish is one of my Lord’s oldest friends.”
“Sir Jasper Standish! Good God!” Pamela started and wheeled round. She echoed the words in accents which left no doubt as to the consternation evoked by the name.
Her face was reflected in the glass in front of her, and Selina had a vision of its blasted expression of horror and disapproval.
The next moment Miss Pounce had resumed her usual bland self-control, and was bending over the French hat, feigning to be absorbed in twitching its knotted ribbons into place.
“Upon my word, Miss Pounce,” exclaimed Kitty, in high surprise and anger. “And what have you got against Sir Jasper Standish, may I ask, that you should couple his name with such impiety?”
“Oh, nothing, my Lady, nothing!”
Pamela’s hands trembled as she twitched the faint pink ribbons. “Nothing but a bit of a business trouble between my father and Sir Jasper, our place being all but next door to Standish Hall—I crave your Ladyship’s pardon, I’m sure, for letting my feelings go away with me,—but Sir Jasper was hard on father over a mortgage.”
“Oh! a mortgage! Pish, child!” Kitty was immensely relieved, though she could not conceal that she considered it a great liberty in a milliner thus to obtrude her family affairs upon the notice of distinguished clients. She had not so very high an opinion of Jasper herself, and Pamela was a prodigious handsome girl! She had been actually trembling over what might have come out!
My Lady’s manner for the rest of the séance comically varied between a dignified displeasure and the overwhelming fascination exercised by the milliner’s supreme talent.
Lady Selina submitted to all the trying-on and listened to the prolonged discussions with the same demeanour of angry martyrdom which she had brought into the shop.