The discreet groom smothered a smile.
“I’ll give you five shillings, Philips, if you can find him and Cuckoopint,” said Jack, pulling two half-crowns out of his knickerbockers.
“Make it ten, sir, and I’ll do it,” said the virtuous groom.
“I’ll make it ten,” said Jack. “But it must be next week, for I’ve spent all they give me except this.”
“Next week will do, sir,” said the groom, slipping the half-crowns in his waistcoat pocket.
Jack did not speak of this transaction to anyone, not even to Boo. He loved his sister, but he had discovered of late years that Boo, to “get in with mammy” and get taken to a garden party or a pastoral play or a picture exhibition, would not hesitate to betray him and his confidences.
“I wouldn’t ever betray you,” he said once in reproach.
“Then you’d be a silly not to, if you’d get anything by it,” said Boo, with her little chin in the air and her big eyes shut up into two slits, which was her manner of expressing extreme derision.
“You’re so dishon’able ’cause you’re a girl,” said Jack, with more sorrow than anger.
Every day for a week Jack asked Philips breathlessly, “Well?” but Philips prudently would not admit any knowledge until the next week arrived, when Jack entered into his month’s allowance and produced the third and fourth half-crowns.