The girl nodded knowingly, and went out.
‘Now,’ said Mr. Jordan to himself, ‘I’ll come to the bottom of this plot at last. My own children have turned against me. I will let them see that I can counter-plot. Though I be sick and feeble and old, I will show that I am master still in my own house. Who is there?’
Mr. Coyshe entered, bland and fresh, rubbing his hands. ‘Well, Jordan,’ said he—he had become familiar in his address since his engagement—’how are you? And my fairy Eve, how is she? None the worse for her junket?’
‘Junket!’ repeated the old man. ‘What junket?’
‘Bless your soul!’ said the surgeon airily. ‘Of course you think only of curdled milk. I don’t allude to that local dish—or rather bowl—I mean Eve’s expedition to Plymouth t’other night.’
‘Eve—Plymouth!’
‘Of course. Did you not know? Have I betrayed a secret? Lord bless me, why should it be kept a secret? She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no better, and thought the performance was perfection. I have seen Kemble, and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial theatre it was well enough.’
‘You went with her to the theatre?’
‘Yes, I and Mr. Jasper. But don’t fancy she went only out of love of amusement. She went to see the manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.’
‘Barret?’