make one bad-tempered.’
‘Has he been coming often?—Mr. Barmby, I mean.’
‘Pretty well. I think I must turn matchmaker, and get him married to some one. It oughtn’t to be difficult. The Prophet “has points.” ’
‘I dare say some people would think him handsome,’ assented Miss Morgan, nibbling a finger which showed an ink-stain, and laughing shyly.
‘And his powers of conversation!—Don’t you know any one that would do for him?’
They jested on this theme until Nancy chose to become serious again.
‘Have you any lessons to-morrow?’
‘No. Thank goodness every one is going to see the procession, or the decorations, or the illuminations, and all the rest of the nonsense,’ Jessica replied. ‘I shall have a good long day of work; except that I’ve promised to go in the afternoon, and have tea with the little girls at Champion Hill. I wish you’d come too; they’d be delighted to see you, and there’ll be nobody except the governess.’
Nancy looked up in doubt.
‘Are you sure? Won’t the dowager be at home?’
‘She hasn’t left her room for three weeks.’
They exchanged a look of some special significance.
‘Then I suppose,’ said Nancy, with a peculiar smile, ‘that’s why Mr. Tarrant has been calling?’
‘Has he? How do you know?’
Again they looked at each other, and Nancy laughed.
‘I have happened to meet him twice, the last few days.’ She spoke in an off-hand way. ‘The first time, it was just at the top of the lane; he was coming away. The second time, I was walking along Champion Hill, and he came up behind me, going to the house.’
‘Did he talk?’
Nancy gave a nod.
‘Yes, both times. But he didn’t tell me that the dowager was worse.’
‘High and mighty?’ asked Jessica.
‘Not quite so majestic as usual, I thought. I didn’t feel quite so much of a shrimp before him. And decidedly he was in better spirits. Perhaps the dowager’s death would be important to him?’
‘Very likely. Will you come to-morrow?’
Miss. Lord hesitated—then, with a sudden frankness:
‘To tell you the truth, I’m afraid he might be there.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, not on Jubilee Day.’
‘But that’s the very reason. He may come to be out of the uproar.’
‘I meant he was more likely to be out of town altogether.’
Nancy, still leaning over the table, propped her chin on her hands, and reflected.
‘Where does he go, I wonder?’
‘Oh, all sorts of places, no doubt. Men of that kind are always travelling. I suppose he goes shooting and fishing—’
Nancy’s laugh made an interruption.
‘No, no, he doesn’t! He told me once that he didn’t care for that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, well, you know much more about him than I do,’ said Miss Morgan, with a smile.
‘I’ve often meant to ask you—have they anything to do with Tarrant’s black-lead?’
Jessica declared that she had never heard of it.
‘Never heard of it? nonsense! A few years ago it used to be posted up everywhere, and I see it sometimes even now, but other kinds seem to have driven it out of the market. Now that’s just like you! Pray, did you ever hear of Pears’ Soap?’
‘Of course.’
‘Really? Oh, there’s hope of you. You’ll be a woman of the world some day.’
‘Don’t tease, Nancy. And what would it matter if he was there to-morrow?’
‘Oh! I don’t know. But I shouldn’t particularly like his lordship to imagine that I went in the hope of paying my respects to him, and having the reward of a gracious smile.’
‘One can’t always be thinking about what other people think,’ said Jessica impatiently. ‘You’re too sensitive. Any one else in your position would have lots of such friends.’
‘In my position! What is my position?’
‘Culture is everything now-a-days,’ observed Miss. Morgan, with the air of one who feels herself abundantly possessed of that qualification.
But Nancy laughed.
‘You may depend upon it, Mr. Tarrant doesn’t think so.’
‘He calls himself a democrat.’
‘And talks like one: doesn’t he?’
‘Oh! that’s only his way, I think. He doesn’t really mean to be haughty, and—and so on.’
‘I wish I knew if he had any connection with Tarrant’s blacklead,’ said Miss. Lord mischievously.
‘Why not ask him?’
They laughed merrily, Jessica’s thin note contrasting with the mellow timbre of her friend’s voice.
‘I will some day.’
‘You would never dare to!’
‘I daren’t? Then I will!’
‘It would be dreadfully rude.’
‘I don’t mind being thought rude,’ replied Nancy, with a movement of the head, ‘if it teaches people that I consider myself as good as they are.’
‘Well, will you come to-morrow?’
‘Ye-es; if you’ll go somewhere else with me in the evening.’
‘Where to?’
‘To walk about the streets after dark, and see the crowds and the illuminations.’
Nancy uttered this with a sly mirthfulness. Her friend was astonished.
‘Nonsense! you don’t mean it.’
‘I do. I want to go for the fun of the thing. I should feel ashamed of myself if I ran to stare at Royalties, but it’s a different thing at night. It’ll
