Calling in at Colonel Letsom’s in the evening, I found Jane Preen there, and one or two more girls. The Squire and Tod had not appeared at home yet, neither had Colonel Letsom, who made one at the shooting-party; we decided that Sir Robert must be keeping them to an unceremonious dinner. Presently Tom Chandler came in, to bring a note to the Colonel from Mr. Paul.
Bob Letsom proposed a round game at cards—Speculation. His sister, Fanny, objected; speculation was nothing but screaming, she said, and we couldn’t sit down to cards by daylight. She proposed music; she thought great things of her singing: Bob retorted that music might be shot, and they talked at one another a bit. Finally we settled to play at “Consequences.” This involves, as everyone knows, sitting round a table with pencils and pieces of writing-paper.
I sat next to Tom Chandler, Jane Preen next to me. Fanny was on the other side of Tom—but it is not necessary to relate how we all sat. Before we had well begun, Chandler put his pencil on the table, carelessly, and it rolled past me.
“Why, that is Oliver’s pencil!” exclaimed Jane, picking it up.
“Which is?” quietly said Tom. “That? No; it is mine.”
Jane looked at it on all sides. “It is exactly like one that Oliver has,” she said. “It fell out of a drawer in his room the other day, when I was counting up his collars and handkerchiefs. He told me he brought it from Tours.”
“No doubt,” said Tom. “I bought mine at Worcester.”
In taking the pencil from Jane, Tom’s eye caught mine. I did feel queer; he saw I did; but I think he was feeling the same. Little doubt now who had changed the note!
“You will not talk of it, will you?” I whispered to Tom, as we were dispersing about the room when the game was over.