"Trade!" replied Lady Alice, with dry dignity.
"Trade, to be sure. You're a tradesman yourself, you know—a miner—I bought twenty-two shares in that for you in June last; you're an iron ship-builder—you have fifteen in that; you're a 'bus-man—you have ten there; and you were devilish near being a brewer, only it stopped."
"Don't talk like a fool—a joint-stock company I hope is one thing, and a—a—the other sort of thing quite another, I fancy."
"You fancy, yes; but it is not. It's a firm—Smith, Brown, Jones, Redcliffe, and Co., omnibus drivers, brewers, and so forth. So if he's not a rival, and doesn't interfere with your little trade, I really don't care, my dear little mamma, what sort of shop my friend Varbarriere may keep; but as I said, I don't know; maybe he's too fine a fellow to meddle, like us, with vats and 'busses."
"It appears odd that you should know absolutely nothing about your own guests," remarked Lady Alice.
"Well, it would be odd, only I do," answered Sir Jekyl—"all one needs to know or ask. He presented his papers, and comes duly accredited—a letter from old Philander the Peer. Do you remember Peery still? I don't mind him; he was always a noodle, though in a question of respectability he's not quite nothing; and another from Bob Charteris—you don't know him—Attaché at Paris; a better or more reliable quarter one could not hear from. I'll let you read them to-morrow; they speak unequivocally for his respectability; and I think the inference is even that he has a soul above 'busses. Here he is."
M. Varbarriere advanced with the air of a magician about to conduct a client to his magic mirror, toward Lady Alice before whom he made a low bow, having been presented the day before, and he inquired with a grave concern how she now felt herself and expressed with a sonorous suavity his regrets and his hopes.
Lady Alice, having had a good account of him, received him on the whole very graciously; and being herself a good Frenchwoman, the conversation flowed on agreeably.