"Yes, and a grand jumper he is too: accustomed to papa's weight, carrying you will be quite play to him."
Arrived at Trotbury, the first thing, as Jim remarked, was obviously to order lunch at "The Sweet Waters;" fortified with which they could then proceed to do the cathedral, and spend as much time as seemed good to them over that noble pile.
"There are all sorts of tombs and chapels to see," continued Jim, "with more than an average crop of historical legends concerning them; and the vergers have all the characteristics of that class: once upset them in their parrot-like description, and they flounder about in most comical manner. The last time I was here they showed me the tomb of St. Gengulphus, with an effigy of that eminent clergyman—considerably damaged about the nose—in stone, on the top. I appealed to the verger gravely to know if it was considered a good likeness. He was staggered for a moment, and then replied hurriedly that it was. But, thank goodness, here comes the lunch. I feel as hungry as an unsuccessful hawk."
"Too bad of you, too bad, Mr. Cottrell," exclaimed Sylla Chipchase; "you were not one of the riding party, and so I have had no opportunity as yet of rebuking you for your forgetfulness: you had no business to forget the name of that French song I told you to recommend to my aunt."
"Allow me to observe, Miss Sylla, that I don't consider I deserve much rebuke on the subject. I quite remembered your message to Mrs. Wriothesley; it was only the name of the song that escaped my memory."
"Is Mrs. Wriothesley an aunt of yours?" inquired Blanche, with no little curiosity; "we know her, and often meet her in town."
"Yes; isn't she charming? I am going up to stay with her as soon as the Easter holidays are over; we shall no doubt meet often."
Blanche said no more, but pondered for a minute or two over this little bit of intelligence. She did not understand why, but she was quite certain that her mother disliked Sylla Chipchase, and was conscious of being not quite in accord with that young lady herself. She knew, moreover, that if there was one person that Lady Mary detested in all her London circle, it was this very Mrs. Wriothesley.
But luncheon is finished, and the whole party proceed to view the cathedral. Pansey Cottrell, however, was not to be got beyond the threshold: he protested that he had too small a mind for so great a subject, and declared his intention of solacing himself with a cigar outside for the temporary absence of the ladies, which was, as Miss Sylla informed him, a mere pandering to the coarser instincts of his nature, whatever he might choose to call it. With the exception of Mr. Sartoris, it may be doubted whether any of the party paid much attention to what they were shown. The principal effect on Blanche's mind was a hazy conviction that Sylla Chipchase was a somewhat disagreeable girl. She considered that the familiar way in which that young lady addressed Lionel Beauchamp, to say the least of it, was in very bad taste.
But these irreverent pilgrims at last brought their inspection of the famous shrine to a conclusion, having displayed on the whole, perhaps, no more want of veneration than is usually shown by such sightseers, and, picking up the philosophic Cottrell in the close, wended their way once more back to "The Sweet Waters."