"I suppose you play cards every night of your life," said the baronet.
"No; I don't play cards," said Miss Mackenzie. "Many ladies do, but I'm not in that set."
"What set are you in?" said Sir John.
"I don't think I am in any set. I know Mr Stumfold, the clergyman there, and I go to his house sometimes."
"Oh, ah; I see," said Sir John. "I beg your pardon for mentioning cards. I shouldn't have done it, if I had known that you were one of Mr Stumfold's people."
"I am not one of Mr Stumfold's people especially," she said, and then she went upstairs.
The other John Ball came back from London just in time for dinner—the middle one of the three, whom we will call Mr Ball. He greeted his cousin very kindly, and then said a word or two to his mother about shares. She answered him, assuming a look of interest in his tidings.
"I don't understand it; upon my word, I don't," said he. "Some of them will burn their fingers before they've done. I don't dare do it; I know that."
In the evening, when John Ball,—or Jack, as he was called in the family,—had left the drawing-room, and the old man was alone with his son, they discussed the position of Margaret Mackenzie.
"You'll find she has taken up with the religious people there," said the father.