Insatiable thirst for gossip is naturally allied with insatiable curiosity, and Mr. Cottrell was no exception.
"J. B., J. B.?" he said, still fingering the case.
"I have it! I am right, for a dollar! You borrowed it from Jim Bloxam when we were down at Todborough."
"No," returned Lionel, much amused; "you are wrong again. I had a commission to get that case made——"
"For Jim Bloxam," interposed Cottrell quickly.
"I didn't say that," returned Lionel; "anyhow, it was not wanted; and at the risk of being accused of not being able to spell my own name, I kept it for myself. I was further commanded to adhere strictly to the motto."
"And 'avoid talkative people.' Curious, very," observed Mr. Cottrell, as he put down the cigar-case, wondering not a little who gave the commission, and for whom the case was originally intended; but he of course refrained from further inquiry.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RINGING OF THE BELLES.
The more Lady Mary heard of this water party, the more determined she was to attend it. True, her pet design, the establishment of her daughter, seemed to be running awry, but there was no occasion as yet for abandoning it. There was evidently something wrong between Blanche and Lionel Beauchamp, but that could never be put right by persistently avoiding him. Whatever the cloud between them, it was little likely to be dispelled if they never met. Then again, why should she facilitate matters for that odious Mrs. Wriothesley and her saucy chit of a niece? No; all the sporting blood of the Ditchins boiled in Lady Mary's veins as she muttered,