"What has that wretched girl been doing now?"
"Oh, don't you know? The yacht had to be overhauled, so they went to Florence instead, and have been wandering about in all the resorts of rather shady people, where Lisette can cut a figure. Mr. Wakefield is terribly afraid that even poor Mr. Gould himself is taking to gambling for want of something to do. There are always reports coming of Elfie taking up with some count or baron. It was a Russian prince last time, and then Ali goes down into the very lowest depths, and can't do anything but smoke. You know that's good for blighted beings. I cure my plants by putting them into his room surreptitiously."
"You are a hard-hearted little mortal, Babie. Ah, there's the bell!"
Mrs. Brownlow came in with the two Johns, who had joined her just as she had finished talking to the poor woman; Jock carried off his friend to dress, and Babie, after finishing her arrangements and making the most of every fragment of flower or leaf, repaired with a selection of delicate sprays, to the room where Esther, having put her little sister to bed, was dressing for dinner. She was eager to tell of her alarm at the invasion, and of Captain Evelyn's good nature when she had expected him to be proud and disagreeable.
"He wanted to be," said Babie, "but honest nature was too strong for him."
"Johnny was so angry at the way he treated Jock."
"O, we quite forget all that. Poor fellow! it was a mistaken reading of noblesse oblige, and he is very much ashamed of it. There, let me put this fern and fuchsia into your hair. I'll try to do it as well as Ellie would."
She did so, and better, being more dainty-fingered, and having more taste. It really was an artistic pleasure to deal with such beautiful hair, and such a lovely lay figure as Esther's. With all her queenly beauty and grace, the girl had that simplicity and sedateness which often goes with regularity of feature, and was hardly conscious of the admiration she excited. Her good looks were those of the family, and Kenminster was used to them. This was her first evening of company, for on the only previous occasion her little sister had been unwell, sleepless and miserable in the strange house, and she had begged off. She was very shy now, and could not go down without Barbara's protection, so, at the last moment before dinner, the little brown fairy led in the tall, stately maiden, all in white, with the bright fuchsias and delicate fern in her dark hair, and a creamy rose, set off by a few more in her bosom.
Babie exulted in her work, and as her mother beheld Cecil's raptured glance and the incarnadine glow it called up, she guessed all that would follow in one rapid prevision, accompanied by a sharp pang for her son in Japan. It was not in her maternal heart not to hope almost against her will that some fibre had been touched by Bobus that would be irresponsive to others, but duty and loyalty alike forbade the slightest attempt to revive the thought of the poor absentee, and she must steel herself to see things take their course, and own it for the best.
Esther was a silent damsel. The clash of keen wits and exchange of family repartee were quite beyond her. She had often wondered whether her cousins were quarrelling, and had been only reassured by seeing them so merry and friendly, and her own brother bearing his part as naturally as the rest. She was more scandalised than ever to-day, for it absolutely seemed to her that they were all treating Captain Evelyn, long moustache and all, like a mere family butt, certainly worse than they would have treated one of her own brothers, for Rob would have sulked, and Joe, or any of the younger ones, might have been dangerous, whereas this distinguished-looking personage bore all as angelically as befitted one called by such a charming appellation as the Honourable Cecil Evelyn.
"How about the shooting, Cecil? Sydney said you had not very good sport."
"Why-no, not till I joined Rainsforth's party."
"Where was your moor?"
"In Lanarkshire," rather unwillingly.
"Eh," said Allen, in a peculiar soft languid tone, that meant diversion. "Near L--?"
"Yes."
Then Jock burst out into laughter inexplicable at first, but Allen made his voice gentler and graver, as he said, "You don't mean Kilnaught?" and then he too joined Jock in laughter, as the latter cried-
"Another victim to McNab of Kilnaught! He certainly is the canniest of Scots."
"He revenges the wrongs of Scotland on innocent young Guardsmen."
"Well, I'm sure there could not be a more promising advertisement."
"That's just it!" said Jock. "Moor and moss. How many acres of heather?"
"How was I to expect a man of family to be a regular swindler?"
"Hush! hush, my dear fellow! Roderick Dhu was a man of family. It is the modern form."
"But I saw his keeper."
"Oh!" cried Allen. "I know! Old Rory! Tells you a long story in broad Scotch, of which you understand one word here and there about his Grace the Deuke, and how many miles-miles Scots-he walked."
"I can see Evelyn listening, and saying 'yes,' at polite intervals!"
"How many birds did you actually see?"
"Well, I killed two brace and a half the first day."
"Hatched under a hen, and let out for a foretaste."
"And there was one old blackcock."
"That blackcock! There are serious doubts whether it is a phantom bird, or whether Rory keeps it tame as a decoy. You didn't kill it?"
"No."
"If you had, you might have boasted of an achievement," said Allen.
"The spell would have been destroyed," added Jock. "But you did not let him finish. Did you say you saw the blackcock?"
"I am not sure; I think I heard it rise once, but the keeper was always seeing it."
Everybody but Essie was in fits of laughing at Cecil's frank air of good-humoured, self-defensive simplicity, and Armine observed--
"There's a fine subject for a ballad for the 'Traveller's Joy,' Babie. 'The Phantom Blackcock of Kilnaught!'"
Babie extemporised at once, amid great applause-
"The hills are high, the laird's purse dry, Come out in the morning early; McNabs are keen, the Guards are green, The blackcock's tail is curly.
"The Southron's spoil 'tis worthy toil, Come out in the morning early; Come take my house and kill my grouse, The blackcock's tail is curly.
"Come out, come out, quoth Rory stout, Come out in the morning early, Sir Captain mark, he rises! hark, The blackcock's tail is curly."
"Repetition, Babie," said her mother; "too like the Montjoie S. Denis poem."
"It saves so much trouble, mother."
"And a recall to the freshness and innocence of childhood is so pleasing," added Jock.
"How much did the man of family let his moor for?" asked Allen.
There Cecil saw the pitiful and indignant face opposite to him, would have sulked, and began looking at her for sympathy, exclaiming at last-
"Haven't you a word to say for me, Miss Brownlow?"
"I don't like it at all. I don't think it is fair," broke from Essie, as she coloured crimson at the laugh.
"He likes it, my dear," said Babie.
"It is a gentle titillation," said Allen.
"He can't get on without it," said the Friar.
"And comes for it like the cattle to the scrubbing-stones," said the Skipjack.
"Yes," said Armine; "but he tries to get pitied, like Chico walking on three legs when some one is looking at him."
"You deal in most elegant comparisons," said the mother.
"Only to get him a little more pitied," said Jock. "He is as grateful as possible for being made so interesting."
"Hark, there's a knock!" cried Allen. "Can't you instruct your cubs not to punish the door so severely, Jock? I believe they think that the more row they make, the more they proclaim their nobility!"
"The obvious derivation of the word stunning," said Mother Carey, as she rose to meet her guests in the drawing-room, and Cecil to hold the door for her.
"Stay, Evelyn," said Allen. "This is the night when unlicked cubs do disport themselves in our precincts. A mistaken sense of philanthropy has led my mother to make this house the fortnightly salon bleu of St. Thomas's. But there's a pipe at your service in my room."