Read Ebook: Mr. Jervis Vol. 2 (of 3) by Croker B M Bithia Mary

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Ebook has 753 lines and 40710 words, and 16 pages

"Yes; if we could get Mrs. Sladen."

"Not Miss Paske? Don't you like her?" with a twinkle in his eye.

"It is too soon to say whether I like her or not; but she did not think it too soon to ridicule my aunt to me."

"Well, Miss Gordon, I'll tell you something. I don't care about Miss Paske."

"Why?" she asked quickly.

"Letting cats out of bags, eh?" he supplemented quietly.

"No, indeed; and it seemed so odd that she did not remember meeting me only three days ago."

"You were thoroughly determined that she should not forget it, and we will see if she ever forgives you. Here comes old Sladen," as a heavy figure loomed in view, crunching down the gravel, and leaning on the railings in a manner that tested them severely, he looked down upon the gay groups, and six tennis courts, in full swing. Colonel Sladen had an idea that blunt rudeness, administered in a fatherly manner, was pleasing to young women of Miss Gordon's age, and he said--

"So I hear you came up with the great catch of the season. Ha, ha, ha! And got the start of all the girls in the place, eh?"

"Great catch?" she repeated, with her delicate nose high in the air.

"This is his cousin, Mr. Jervis," broke in Honor, precipitately.

"Oh, indeed," casting an indifferent glance at Jervis. "Well, it's not a bad thing to be cousin to a millionaire."

"How do you know that he is a millionaire?" inquired the young man coolly.

"Oh, I put it to him, and he did not deny the soft impeachment. He has just paid a top price for a couple of weight-carrying polo ponies--I expect old Byng stuck it on."

"The fact of buying polo ponies goes for nothing. If that were a test, you might call nearly every subaltern in India a millionaire," rejoined Jervis with a smile.

Colonel Sladen merely stared at the speaker with an air of solemn contempt, threw the stump of his cheroot into a bush of heliotrope, and, turning once more to Honor, said--

"You see all our smartest young men down there, Miss Gordon--at your feet in one sense, and they will be there in another, before long. I can tell you all about them--it's a good thing for a strange young lady to know how the land lies, and get the straight tip, and know what are trumps."

"What do you mean?" asked Honor, frigidly.

He paused, to see if the shot told, or if the statement would be challenged; but no.

"That is Toby Joy, who acts and dances and ought to be in a music-hall, instead of in the service. There is Jenkins of the Crashers, the thin man with a red belt; very rich. His father made the money in pigs or pills--not what you'd call aristocratic, but he is well gilded. Then there is Alston of the Gray Rifles--good-looking chap, eldest son; and Howard of the Queen's Palfreys--old family, heaps of tin; but he drinks. Now, which of these young men are you going to set your cap at?"

"None of them," she answered with pale dignity.

"Oh, come! I'll lay you five to one you are married by this time next year."

"No--not by this time five years."

"Nonsense! Then what did you come out for, my dear young lady? You won't throw dust in the eyes of an old 'Qui hye' like me, who has seen hundreds of new spins in his day? I suppose you think you have come out to be a comfort to your aunt and uncle? Not a bit of it! You have come out to be a comfort to some young man. Take a friend's advice," lowering his voice to a more confidential key, "and keep your eye steadily on the millionaire."

"Colonel Sladen," her lips trembling with passion, her eyes blazing with wrath, "I suppose you are joking, and think all this very funny. It does not amuse me in the least; on the contrary, I--I think it is a pitiable thing to find a man of your age so wanting in good taste, and talking such vulgar nonsense!"

"Did you ever know such a detestable man?" she exclaimed, turning to Jervis with tears of anger glittering in her eyes.

Honor burst into an involuntary laugh, as she thought of their comparative weight.

"He did it on purpose to draw you, and he has riled you properly."

"To think of his being the husband of such a woman as Mrs. Sladen! Oh, I detest him! Imagine his having the insolence to make out that every girl who comes to India is nothing but a scheming, mercenary, fortune-hunter! I am glad he pointed out all the rich men!"

"May I ask why?" inquired her somewhat startled companion.

"Because, of course, I shall take the greatest possible care never to know one of them."

"So poverty, for once, will have its innings? You will not taboo the younger sons?"

"No; only good matches and great catches," with vicious emphasis. "Hateful expressions! Mr. Jervis, I give you fair warning that, if you were rich, I would never speak to you again. You are laughing!"

"Perhaps," in an icy tone, "when your amusement has subsided, you will be good enough to take me back to my aunt!"

"You had better not say any more," she interrupted; "you will only make matters worse." Then added with a dawning smile, "It is what I always do myself. I speak from experience."

A keener observer than the young lady would have noticed a shade of embarrassment in his glance as, after a moment's hesitation, he said--

"I am quite an old Indian friend now, at any rate--almost your first acquaintance."

It was becoming dark, the fires were visibly increasing on the distant hills, the first mess bugle had gone. There was a general getting into rickshaws, and calling for ponies, and presently the club was empty, the formidable verandahs deserted, and all the red-capped little tennis-boys went trooping home.

THE TABLE OF PRECEDENCE.

Time wore on; Honor was becoming familiarized with her new surroundings, had picked up some useful Hindustani words, made a round of calls, and shown that she had no mean skill at tennis. And Mrs. Brande had demonstrated that she was not a woman of words only. She had given young Jervis a general and urgent invitation to her house--moreover, he found favour in her husband's eyes. He was a fine, well-set-up, gentlemanly young fellow, a keen tennis player, with no haw-haw humbug about him, therefore the Honourable Pelham heartily endorsed his wife's hospitality.

The first grand entertainment at which Honor had appeared was a large, solemn dinner-party, given by the chief medical officer in Shirani. There were to be thirty guests. This much Mrs. Brande's cook had gleaned from Mrs. Loyd's khansamah when he came to borrow jelly-tins and ice-spoons. Mrs. Brande delighted in these formal dinners, where she could enjoy herself most thoroughly as chief guest and experienced critic; and she looked forward to this feast with what seemed to her niece an almost infantile degree of glee and happy anticipation.

Mr. Brande was absent, but even had he been at home he was never enthusiastic respecting these functions. His wife had complained to Mrs. Sladen, "that he got into his evening clothes and had humour at one and the same time," save when he dined at home.

"You will wear your white silk, Honor," observed her aunt, "and I my new pink brocade, with the white lace. I'm really curious to see what sort of a turn-out Mrs. Loyd will have. She has the Blacks' old cook, and they never gave a decent dinner; but then Mrs. Black was stingy--she grudged a glass of wine for sauce, and never allowed more than half an anna a head for soup-meat. Now Mrs. Loyd is getting up fish from Bombay, so I fancy she means to do the thing properly. Have you ever been to a dinner-party, child?"

"Oh, I hope not, aunt; he and I do not suit one another at all."

"Why not?" rather sharply.

"I've not sufficient 'go' in me. I can't talk about the people he knows. I'm not smart, or up to date. I can't say amusing things like Miss Paske; I am merely a stupid little country mouse!"

"And she is a little cat!" with a quick nod. "Well, I must say I'd fifty times rather have Jervis myself. He has such nice manners--different to other young men, who come to my house, and eat and drink of the best, and scarcely look at me afterwards. There was that Thorpe; he never even got off his chair when I spoke to him at the club. I know I'm not a lady born--my father was a wheelwright--but he and his had been in the same place three hundred years. Still, I have my feelings, and that Thorpe, though he may be a lord's son, is no gentleman. He thought I was deaf, and I heard him say to a man, when I was on his arm--

"'I'm going to supper the old girl.'

"Are they indeed, aunt? I am sorry to hear it."

"Yes, Aunt Sara."

"No, aunt," replied Honor, endeavouring to look wise, and marvelling much at Mrs. Brande's enthusiasm. Her colour had risen, her eyes shone, as she energetically brandished the pamphlet in her hand.

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