Cotillion

‘You are wealthy enough not to be obliged to offer for an heiress!’ said Miss Charing, darting a glance of scorn at him.

‘Well, I ain’t going to offer for an heiress,’ said Freddy patiently. A thought occurred to him; in some concern he added: ‘Kitty, you haven’t got this infectious complaint, have you? Don’t know what it is, but it goes very much about, they tell me. M’sister Meg was in bed a sennight with it.’

‘Freddy!’ exclaimed Miss Charing, staring fixedly at him. ‘Don’t you know why Uncle Matthew sent for you?’

‘Said he had something important to say to me. I thought it was a hum!’

‘But if you came at all why did you not come yesterday?’ Kitty demanded.

‘Been out of town,’ explained Mr Standen.

‘Oh, Freddy, I have wronged you!’ uttered Kitty, genuinely remorseful. ‘But George, and Hugh, and Dolph all knew, and so of course I supposed you must too!’

‘Eh?’ ejaculated Freddy, startled. ‘You don’t mean to tell me they are at Arnside?’

‘Yes, yes, they have been there since yesterday, and it is too dreadful, Freddy!’

‘Good God, I should rather think so!’ he agreed, much struck. ‘Why, if I hadn’t met you, I should have walked smash into them! You know, Kitty, the old gentleman must be in pretty queer stirrups! Unless he’s been on the mop, and that don’t seem likely. Well, what I mean is, he must be dicked in the nob to want such a set of gudgeons at Arnside! Mind, I don’t say Hugh ain’t a clever fellow: daresay he is; but you can’t deny he’s a dead bore!’

‘Yes, he is!’ agreed Miss Charing, with enthusiasm. ‘And, which is worse, he’s a saintly bore, Freddy!’

‘Devilish!’ agreed Freddy. ‘Know what he said to me the last time he took a bolt to the village? Why, just because he saw me coming away from the Great-Go, he started to moralize about the evils of gaming! Seemed to think I was a regular leg, which, as I told him, is a dashed silly thing to think, because for one thing it ain’t at all the thing, and for another you have to be a curst clever fellow to be a leg! What’s brought him to Arnside?’

‘Uncle Matthew,’ replied Kitty. ‘He is making his Will!’

‘He is? You don’t mean he’s had notice to quit at last?’

‘Of course he has not, but he chooses to think so!’ said Kitty.

‘No need to put yourself in a pucker,’ said Freddy kindly. ‘Been saying it any time these past ten years! Who’s he leaving his money-bags to?’

‘To me—upon conditions!’

‘What, nothing to Jack?’ exclaimed Freddy. ‘If that don’t beat the Dutch! Not but what I’m dashed glad to hear it, Kitty! Felicitate you!’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Charing, ‘but it is on condition that I marry one or other of his great-nephews, and that, Freddy, is why you were invited to Arnside! You are to offer for me!’

The effect of this pronouncement was quite as great as she could have desired, and, possibly, rather greater. Mr Standen, who had disposed his slender person gracefully in a chair on the other side of the fireplace, was jerked suddenly upright. An expression of the most profound horror transformed his amiable countenance; his eyes showed an alarming tendency to start from his head; and he said, in a voice approaching a squeak: ‘What?’

Miss Charing was betrayed into an unromantic giggle.

Mr Standen looked suspiciously at her. ‘Now, listen to me, Kitty!’ he said severely. ‘If you’re trying to roast me—No, my God! So that was it! I might have guessed as much! Well, if I don’t serve him trick-and-tie, for this—!’

‘Who?’ demanded Kitty.

‘Jack,’ said Mr Standen. ‘Mind, I thought it was a dashed smoky thing! In fact, I settled it with myself I wouldn’t come. Well, what I mean is, I ain’t such a green ’un as to fall into one of Jack’s take-ins! But, you know, Kit, this is a devilish business! Why, if I hadn’t chanced to meet you I should have found myself dished-up!

You might have warned me, my dear girl!’

Miss Charing paid no heed to this, but fixed her eyes most earnestly upon his face, and asked: ‘Did Jack tell you to come?’

‘That’s it. Met him at Limmer’s last night. Wearing a coat I didn’t like. Told me he let Scott make it for him. Pity! Made him look like a military man.’

‘Never mind Jack’s coat!’ interrupted Kitty. ‘What did he say to you?’

‘Well, that’s it. Said he was tired of Weston’s cut, which made me think he must be a trifle above par. Well, I put it to you, Kit, that’s all you can think when a fellow says a thing like that!’

‘What did he say about—about me?’ demanded Kitty.