Mrs. Evelyn asked Babie who her sister’s friend was. The answer was, “Do you know, Elfie? You know so many more gentlemen than I do.”
“No,” replied Elvira, “I don’t. He looks like the stupid sort of man.”
“What is the stupid sort of man?” asked the General, as she intended.
“Oh! that talks to Janet.”
“Is everyone that talks to Janet stupid?”
“Of course,” said Elvira. “They only go on about stupid things no better than lessons.”
Sir James laughed at her arch look, and shook his head at her, but then made a tour among the other passengers, leaving her pouting a little at his desertion. On his return, he sat down by his sister-in-law and mentioned a name, which made her start and glance an inquiry whether she heard aright. Then as he bent his head in affirmation, she asked, “Is there anything to be done?”
“It is only for the crossing, and she is quite old enough to take care of herself.”
“And it is evidently an established acquaintance, for which I am not responsible,” murmured Mrs. Evelyn to herself.
She was in perplexity about these friends of her son’s. Ever since Cecil had been at Eton, his beloved Brownlow had seemed to be his evil genius, whose influence none of his resolutions or promises could for a moment withstand. If she had acted on her own judgment, Cecil would never have returned to Eton, but his uncle disapproved of his removal, especially with the disgrace of the champagne supper unretrieved; and his penitent letter had moved her greatly. Trusting much to her elder son and to Dr. Medlicott, she had permitted the party to continue together, feeling that it might be life or death to that other fatherless boy in whom Duke was so much interested; and now she was going out to judge for herself, and Sir James had undertaken to escort her, that they might together come to a decision whether the two friends were likely to be doing one another good or harm.