“I thought I was to tell you the truth,” he cried after them, as the carriage whirled away.
“Do you think it was the truth, Meg?” Lady Piercey demanded, in a gasp, when they had swept into the avenue. A feeling of relief came as her anger quieted down.
“Dear Aunt—do you think he could invent so quickly, without any time to prepare?”
“You mean he couldn’t because he’s not clever? Heaven knows! They’re as deep as the deep sea, and as cunning as——. But that ratcatcher is a man I will not have hanging, with those beasts in his pockets, about my house.”
The ratcatcher gave occasion for a good deal of talk that afternoon, both in Gervase’s presence and out of it; and by good luck he had been about, and Lady Piercey gave her orders as to his expulsion from the premises, whenever he should appear, with real satisfaction. “He’s not company for Gervase, and that every one knows,” she said at the dinner table, when old Sir Giles ventured to remonstrate on behalf of the ferrets and their owner.
“Mother always says that when it’s any fellow I like to have a chat with,” Gervase said.
“There’s no harm in old Jerry,” said Sir Giles. “A man shouldn’t be too squeamish, my lady. A good-natured word here and there is what’s wanted of a country squire.”
“But not taking pleasure in low company,” retorted Lady Piercey. “And I tell you again, I won’t have that old wretch and his beasts about my house.”
“But father knows it’s rare fun sometimes, ain’t it, father?” said the young man, kicking the old gentleman under the table. Fortunately, the kick touched only Sir Giles’ stick, and he was not displeased to take Gervase’s part for once against his wife.
“Hush, you young ass, can’t you? We don’t speak of these things before ladies,” he said.