And the two young ladies grew breathless and round-eyed.
"It was his own fault—he should have called off the event; he could have said that he was waiting for me; his party was not complete. I did not dare suggest this, though. I declare I have had to eat enough humble-pie this morning to destroy my appetite forever." And Frank drew out his handkerchief, and, with a long-suffering air, mopped his shining, roseate, fresh face.
"I think it was very ill-judged in Mr. Jardine to bring the mention of Miss Laniston into the matter," said Mrs. Laniston, her delicate features flushing with irritation.
"In my humble mind that was the only impropriety committed," said Frank. "But of course on account of my youth, and being a sort of standard fool, I did not dare to say so. But I did pluck up enough to state that we could not consider Lloyd's riding in the Wheel with Miss Laniston in any sense except as a convenience to her, to weight the machine, and we could not base any action on any other hypothesis."
"You were very right," said his mother heartily, and Frank, encouraged by this infrequent and unexpected approval, took heart of grace to continue, fetched a long sigh of relief, and once more mopped his face with his handkerchief.
"I said to Jardine that there had been no presumption whatever in the man's conduct, and that the suggestion was offensive to us."
"Very well, indeed," said Mrs. Laniston. She was thinking that Frank, after all, was not so incompetent as a squire of dames, and was realising how the contortion of the circumstances in Jardine's mind would affect George Laniston, should he hear that version.
"But you won't believe that he wouldn't accept the situation. He called me a boy, and of course I had to submit to that. He said the showman had noticed our family at table—he had been offended to observe it. As if, in this free and enlightened country, people should fall on their faces, with their faces in the dust at our august approach. I reminded him that the bullet-eyed man stared at us, and that it was we who stared at the manager, who is liable to that sort of thing, for he has got the face of a god or an archangel—told me, when I asked him where was his photograph in the show collection, that he had promised Duroc, the painter, not to be taken till his great picture, 'The Last Day,' is finished. Lloyd is the model for the angel Gabriel in that, and he says it's great, though he thinks the horn makes him look like a translated spieler."
"But about Mr. Jardine——"
"Mamma, I think I am the most put-upon fellow that ever lived. That great Jay stopped Lloyd as he passed and told him that I was a minor, and incapable of making a contract—in my presence, mind you; in my presence!"