'Yes; I believe he is a gipsy. They are a keen-witted race.'
'A gipsy!—and with so much plate as there is in this house!' exclaimed
Lady Palliser. 'Oh, Vernie, you ought not to have asked me to ask him!'
'Don't be afraid, mother,' said Ida; 'he shall be sharply looked after, if he does come.'
'Looked after, indeed! Why, you might give him the run of a silver mine. What does he care for your trumpery silver spoons?' cried Vernon, contemptuously.
The invalid was doomed to disappointment. About two hours after Ida's letter had been despatched, a small boy brought Cheap Jack's reply, to the following effect:—'Jack is very sorry he cannot drink tea with his little friend—'
'Little friend, indeed! What vulgar familiarity!' exclaimed Lady
Palliser.
'But he belongs to the dwellers in tents, and would be out of place in a fine house—'
'Then he is a gipsy,' said Lady Palliser. 'What a luck; escape!'
'He looks forward to the pleasure of seeing Sir Vernon on the Hanger before long. Meanwhile he can only send his duty and best wishes for Sir Vernon's speedy recovery.'
'The end is a little better than the commencement,' said Lady Palliser; 'but I call it a great liberty for a Cheap Jack to talk of my son as his little friend.'