“Oh, she’s away—so is father. This is my party and Tom’s. Oh, duke, do try and like it!” said Jill, taking the great man’s hand.
The duke cast a scared look over his shoulder at his daughters, who were staring in a somewhat awestruck manner at their two small hosts.
“If the girls would like to begin dancing,” suggested Tom, “Jill can play her piece now, and you can take one, and I’ll take the other. It’ll keep the things going, you know, till the rest turn up.”
At this juncture Dr Brandram was announced, greatly to Tom’s delight, who, among so many strangers, was beginning to feel a little shy.
“That’s all right,” said he. “Good old Brandy! you lead off with one of the Marigold girls, while I stop here and do the how-d’ye-do’s.”
The doctor, with a serious face, led His Grace aside.
“This appears to be a freak of the two young people,” said he. “They are the only members of the family at home. I am very sorry you have been victimised.”
“Tut, tut,” said the duke, recovering his good-humour rapidly, “I don’t mean to be a victim at all. I mean to enjoy myself; so do you, doctor. Girls,” said he to his daughters, “you must see the youngsters through this. Ha, ha! what is the rising generation coming to, to be sure.”
Arrivals now began to drop in smartly, and as Tom looked round on the gradually filling drawing-room, a mild perspiration broke out on his ingenious brow.
Jill had gallantly struck up her polka on the piano, but as no one listened and no one danced, she gave it up and returned to the support of her brother.