“Yes, indeed,” I said; “we must”—and, on the word, pricked up my ears, hearing a footstep.
But it was only a man come down with a message from Lord Skene, requesting the favour of Mr Dando’s company to lunch.
Johnny, in his severe position of ally, looked across at me doubtingly.
“Of course,” I said. “Thank his lordship from Mr Dando, Williams, and say he will have much pleasure.”
“For it ought to be as great a pleasure as it’s an honour to you, you know, Johnny,” I said reproachfully, when the man was gone; “seeing how it’s meant to imply the just claim of any friend of mine on his lordship’s hospitality.”
Johnny blushed.
“I didn’t mean that, Dick,” he said—“not to question his lordship’s condescension. Only——”
“You see, Johnny,” I pursued, twinkling, “you mustn’t begin by tarring them all with the same brush. I owe Lord Skene very much, if I owe his lady very little. He’s been a good second father to me, if she’s been an indifferent first mother. All I want to find out is why she has been. I want to know why, Johnny; and I want to know who my first father was, and how this man Dalston knows what I don’t know, and why he is able to make such crushing use of his knowledge. That’s all it comes to at present; and you mustn’t be looking for reasons in their company, but behave just like an ordinary polite little Johnny as you are. There’ll be time enough to discuss our campaign by-and-by.”
He was obviously relieved, and not in the least offended.
“I can assure you, my dear fellow,” he said, “that I shall be only too glad to put it all out of my mind for the moment. It would be jolly unpleasant sitting there and acting the spy—and with Miss Christmas in the room, too. By-the-by, will she be there, Dick?”