'But you will come, of course,' urged Jerry, looking admiringly into her bright laughing eyes.
'I am not quite certain,' faltered Bella, and paused.
'Oh, nonsense, she will be there readily enough,' said her father; adding—'I think I may be pardoned for saying it, Mr. Wilmot, but my Bella will be the belle of the ball. However, leave us just now, dear. Mr. Wilmot has come to see me on business, I doubt not, and that won't be interesting to you.'
She at once took up her work-basket, and withdrew, with a bow and a smile, and Jerry, as his gaze followed her, and he saw what a perfect creature she was, so slim and graceful with the pure complexion that comes of health and country air, soft and sparkling brown eyes and rich hair coiled round a shapely head, thought how unworthy it was of his mother to view the girl as she did, and to treat her as she had hitherto done.
He knew exactly from what her indecision about the ball sprang. Never before had she or her father been invited to the Manor House when other guests were there, at dinner or garden parties, and when they had dined with her and Miss Wilmot, in solitary state, she always resented bitterly the airs of patronage which Lady Julia adopted.
'She's going to the ball, never fear, Mr. Jerry, and there is her reply on the mantel-piece,' said her father.
'Permit me to be the bearer of it,' said Jerry, transferring it at once to his pocket.
'And, now through the medium of some brandy and water, we shall turn to business matters.'
'Glad to hear you say so,' replied Jerry; 'I have wished much to see you, Chevenix, about money matters.'
Mr. Chevenix smiled faintly, and coughed slightly behind his hand.