“Good, very good, very good,” cried Mr Tankardew, in a low voice, and beating one hand gently on the other; “keep to that, my child, keep to that.”
Mark retired with a very bad grace, and Mary, slipping away from her mother’s side, gathered a company around her of the tinier sort, with glowing cheeks and very wide eyes, who were rather scared by the more boisterous proceedings of those somewhat older; she amused them in a quiet way, raising many a little happy laugh, and fairly winning their hearts.
“God bless her,” muttered Mr Tankardew, when he had watched her for some time very attentively; “very good, that will do, very good indeed; keep her to it, Mrs Franklin, keep her to it.”
“She’s a dear, good child,” said her mother.
“Very true, madam; yes, dear and good; some are dear and bad—dear at any price. I see some now.”
Wine and negus were soon handed round; the tray was presented to Mary. Mr Tankardew lent forward and bent a piercing look at her. She declined, not at all knowing that he was watching her.
“Good again; very good, good girl, wise girl, prudent girl,” he murmured to himself.
The tray now came to Mrs Franklin. She took a glass of sherry. Mr Tankardew’s brow clouded. “Ah!” he exclaimed, and moved restlessly on his chair. The servant then approached him and offered the contents of the tray, but he waved it off with an imperious gesture of his hand, and did not vouchsafe a word.
The more boisterous party in the other room now became conscious of the presence of the wine and negus, and rushed in, surrounding the maid who was bringing in a fresh supply. Mark was at the head of them, and tossed down two glasses in rapid succession. The rest clamoured for the strong drink with eager hands and outstretched arms. “Give me some, give me some,” was uttered on all sides. Self reigned paramount.
Mr Tankardew’s tall form rose high above the edge of the struggling crowd, which he had approached.