As for Mr. John, he had, or supposed he had—or at least attempted to make himself suppose that he had—something to do at home on that particular day. His fishing-tackle had got out of order, and he had to see to that, or there was something else of equal importance which called his attention, and he had been in Masterton for two days in succession. Thus his conscience was very clear. It is true that he dawdled the morning away looking for Pamela, who was not to be found, and was late in consequence—so late that young Keppel, whom he had meant to join, had gone off with his rod on his shoulder to the Rectory to lunch, and was on his way back again before Jack found his way to the water-side. There are certain states of mind in which even dinner is an indifferent matter to a young man; and as for luncheon, it was not likely he would take the trouble to think of that.
“You are a nice fellow,” said Keppel, “to keep a man lounging here by himself all the time that’s any good; and here you are now when the sun is at its height. I don’t understand that sort of work. What have you been about all day?”
“I have not been lunching at the Rectory,” said Jack. “Have a cigar, old fellow? Now we are here, let’s make the best of it. I’ve been waiting about, kicking my heels, while you’ve been having lunch with Fanny Hardcastle. But I’ll tell you what, Keppel; I’d drop that if I were you!”
“Drop what?” cried Mr. Keppel, guiltily.
“Dancing about after every girl who comes in your way,” said Jack. “Why, you were making an ass of yourself only the other day at Brownlows.”
“Ah, that was out of my reach,” said Keppel, shaking his head solemnly, and he sighed. The sigh was such that Jack (who, as is well known, was totally impervious to sentimental weaknesses) burst into a fit of laughter.
“I suppose you think little Fanny is not out of your reach,” he said; “but Fanny is very wide awake, I can tell you. You haven’t got any money; you’re neglecting your profession.”
“It is my profession that is neglecting me,” said Keppel, meekly. “Don’t be hard upon a fellow, Jack. They say here that is you who are making an ass of yourself. They say you are to be seen about all the lanes—”
“Who says?” said Jack; and he could not prevent a certain flush from rising to his face. “Let every man mind his own business, and woman too. As for you, Keppel, you would be inexcusable if you were to do any thing ridiculous in that way. A young fellow with a good profession that may carry him as high as he likes—as high as he cares to work for, I mean; of course nothing was ever done without work—and you waste your time going after every girl in the place—Fanny Hardcastle one day, somebody else the next. You’ll come to a bad end, if you don’t mind.”
“What is a fellow to do?” said Keppel. “When I see a nice girl—I am not a block of wood, like you—I can’t help seeing it. When a man has got eyes in his head, what is the use of his being reasoned with by a man who has none?”