“I didn’t mean to go in,” said she, “where that horrid man is, till you came. I don’t mind a bit now. Come along, dear Mr Armstrong.”
Dear Mr Armstrong came along, feeling decidedly compromised, but yet a little grateful to his loyal adherent.
As usual he dropped into his seat at the foot of the table after a bow to Miss Oliphant, and a friendly nod to Tom.
Jill, to her consternation, found a seat carefully reserved for her next to Mr Ratman. Her impulse on making the discovery was to run; but a glance at Mr Armstrong, who sat watching her in a friendly way, reassured her. To gain time she went round the table and kissed every one (including the tutor), and especially the hero of the day, whom she artfully tried to persuade, in honour of the occasion, to make room for her next to himself. But when that transparent little artifice failed, she bridled up and marched boldly to the inevitable.
“Well, little puss,” said Mr Ratman, “haven’t you got a kiss for me?”
“No,” she replied. “Father says I’m to be civil to you, so I’ll say good-morning; but I don’t mean it a bit; and I still think you’re a horrid, bad man, though I don’t say so. I’m not a bit afraid of you, either, because Mr Armstrong is here to punish you if you behave wickedly.”
Tom, as usual, improved matters with a loud laugh.
“Good old Jilly!” cried he; “let him have it! Sit on his head! He’s got no friends! Never you mind, Ratman—she doesn’t—”
“Silence, sir?” thundered his father, “or leave the table instantly.”
Tom subsided promptly.