"Mr. Tatham, I am quite sure it is Nell's boy. Call after him. What's his name? Bring him back! John Thomas, run after that young gentleman, and say with my compliments——"
"Nothing," said John, stopping the footman with a lifted hand and a still more emphatic look. "He is hastening home to—an engagement. And it's evident I had better go too—for your little friend there is showing his teeth."
"The darling!" said Lady Mariamne, "did it show its little pearls at the wicked man that will not do what its mummy says? Dolly, can't you jump down and run after that boy? I am sure it is your Uncle Philip's boy."
"He is out of sight, mother," said Miss Dolly, calmly.
"You are the most dreadful, wicked, unkind people, all of you. Show its little teeth, then, darling! Oo's the only one that has any feeling. Mr. Tatham, do tell me something about this trial. What is going to be done? Phil is mixed up in it. I know he is. Can they do anything to anybody—after all this time? They can't make you pay up, I know, after a certain time. Oh, couldn't it all be hushed up and stopped and kept out of the newspapers? I hate the newspapers, always chuckling over every new discovery. But this cannot be called a new discovery. If it's true it's old, as old as the old beginning of the world. Don't you think somebody could get at the newspaper men and have it hushed up?"
"I doubt if you could get hold of all of them, their name is legion," said John.
"Oh, I don't care what their name is. If you will help me, Mr. Tatham, we could get hold of most of them—won't you? You know, don't you, poor St. Serf is so bad; it may be over any day—and then only think what a complication! Dolly, turn your head the other way; look at that silly young Huntsfield capering about to catch your eye. I don't want you to hear what I have got to say."
"I don't in the least way want to hear what you have got to say, dear mamma," said Dolly.
"That would have made me listen to every word," said Lady Mariamne; "but girls are more queer nowadays than anything that ever was. Mr. Tatham"—she put her hand upon his, which was on the carriage door, and bent her perfumed, powdered face towards him—"for goodness' sake—think how awkward it would be—a man just succeeding to a title and that sort of thing put in all the papers about him. Do, do stop it, or try something to stop it, for goodness' sake!"
"I assure you," said John, "I can do nothing to stop it. I am as powerless as you are."