A minute after the little group--Jack Raymond explaining, the old Rajpoot listening, Lesley waiting for the laugh to come, and Jerry watching puzzled, doubtful how far the joke would be against him--gave Grace Arbuthnot, in her solitude of honour, a pang of envy. It was dull always talking to the proper people! And Jack Raymond need not keep aloof from her so pointedly. It was so foolish. As if it were possible----
In a sort of denial, she just touched the gold lappets of Sir George's coat--the faintest, lightest finger-touch--as he stood talking to the general; but he turned at once.
'Do you want anything, dear?'
She flushed, and laughed; a pretty flush, a pretty laugh, chiefly at her own impulsiveness.
'Nothing, dear, absolutely nothing,' she said, and he smiled back at her. None the less, she still watched the group enviously.
But Lesley, for her part, was beginning to wish she had not joined it; for the discovery of her own mistakes was never a pleasant process to the young lady, and something in the old Thakoor's face warned her she was out of her depth.
'Ap ne suchh furmaya. Ap ne be shakk suchh furmaya,' came the courteous old voice, as Jack Raymond's ceased, and the courteous old face bent in grave approval over the child's.
'Please! what does he say?' asked Jerry, sober as a judge.
Jack Raymond had not a smile either, though he looked hard at Lesley. 'He says, translated literally, that "You caused the truth to be told; without doubt you caused it to be told."'
Jerry heaved a huge sigh of relief, and looked up into the old face, his childish one full of confidence.