“Let’s go, or we’ll be caught!” replied the alarmist; and forthwith the rustling of silks was resumed, the candles hurried past, and the ladies tripped softly out of the room, leaving the door ajar, with Jack under the bed to digest their compliments at his leisure.
* * * *
But Monsieur was too many for them. Miss had dropped her glove at the foot of the bed, which Jack found on emerging from his hiding place, and waiting until he had the whole party reassembled at tea, he walked majestically into the middle of the drawing-room with it extended on a plated tray, his “horrid eyes” combining all the venom of a Frenchman with the hauteur of an Englishman, and inquired, in a loud and audible voice, “Please, has any lady or shentleman lost its glo-o-ve?”
“Yes, I have!” replied Miss, hastily, who had been wondering where she had dropped it.
“Indeed, marm,” replied Monsieur, bowing and presenting it to her on the tray, adding, in a still louder voice, “I found it in Monsieur Pringle’s bed-room.” And Jack’s flashing eye saw by the brightly colouring girls which were the offenders.
Very much shocked was Mamma at the announcement; and the young ladies were so put about, that they could scarcely compose themselves at the piano, while Miss Harriet’s voice soared exultingly as she accompanied herself on her harp.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE MAJOR’S STUD.
MRS. Yammerton carried the day, and the young ladies carried paper-booted Billy, or rather walked him up to Mrs. Wasperton’s at Prospect Hill, and showed him the ugly girls, and also the beautiful view from Eagleton Rocks, over the wide-spreading vale of Vernerley beyond, which, of course, Billy enjoyed amazingly, as all young gentlemen do enjoy views under such pleasant circumstances. Perhaps he might have enjoyed it more, if two out of three of the dear charmers had been absent, but then things had not got to that pass, and Mamma would not have thought it proper—at least, not unless she saw her way to a very decided preference—which, of course, was then out of the question. Billy was a great swell, and the “chaws” who met him stared with astonishment at such an elegant parasol’d exquisite, picking his way daintily along the dirty, sloppy, rutty lanes. Like all gentlemen in similar circumstances, he declared his boots “wouldn’t take in wet.”