Jill made a little grimace, and then the three of them laughed uproariously till Markham, raising his glass on high, drank to the health and prosperity of bride and bridegroom, and confusion to their enemies.
“It is rather unfortunate having enemies at the outset of one’s married life, don’t you think?” observed Jill a little wistfully.
“Well, I don’t know; I always fancy an enemy or two enhance, by comparison, the value of one’s friends.”
“Yes, perhaps—if one has friends.”
“You cannot persuade me that you will not find plenty as you go through life,” Markham answered gallantly.
“They are a long time coming,” she rejoined with a smile, “but that is generally the case where money is scarce, isn’t it? And Jack and I are horribly poor. We are going to live over the shop, you know, in three rooms and a kitchen. We are lucky to get so many; old Thompkins—”
“My dear Jill,” interposed her husband, “you must really learn to speak more respectfully of the head of the firm.”
“Old Thompkins,” went on Jill imperturbably, “has only two. But then, of course, he’s a bachelor. I think I shall flirt with him! it might be a stroke of business, eh?”
Markham and St. John both laughed.
“You’re all right,” ejaculated the former. “You can safely leave yourself in your wife’s hands; it is not difficult to foresee that old Thompkins will be speedily bowled out.”