Johnny Ludlow First Series Part 101

"It is a smooth hand," she went on, never lifting her gaze. "Very smooth. You'll not have many of the cares and crosses of life.

Nevertheless, I see that you have been in some peril lately. And I should say it was connected with money. Debt."

There were not many things could bring the colour to Joseph Todhetley's face; but it matched then the scarlet mantle the gipsy wore slung over her right shoulder. You might have heard a pin drop in the sudden hush.

Anna's blue eyes were glancing shyly up through their long lashes.

"Peril of debt, or--perhaps--of--steeple-chasing," continued the sibyl with deliberation; and at that the shouts of laughter broke out again through the tent, and Anna smiled. "Take you care of yourself, sir; for I perceive you will run into other perils before you settle down. You have neither caution nor foresight."

"_That's_ true enough, I believe," said Tod. "Any more?"

"No more. For you are just one of those imprudent mortals who will never heed a friendly warning. Were I you, I'd keep out of the world till I grew older."

"Thank you," said Tod, laughing as much as the rest of them: and he drew away his hand.

"Johnny, that was a near shave," he whispered, putting his arm within mine when we had pushed our way out. "Was it all guesswork? Who the deuce is the woman?"

"I know who _I_ think she is. The Pells' English governess, Miss Phebus."

"Nonsense!"

"I do. She has got herself up in character and dyed her skin and hair."

"Then, by George, if it _is_, she must have gathered an inkling of that matter in London."

"I don't see how."

"Nor I. Johnny, some of these days I shall be bursting out with it to the Pater, and so get the weight off my mind."

"I shouldn't wonder. She says you have no caution."

"It's not pleasant, I can tell you, youngster, to live in dread that somebody else will bring it out to him. I'll go in for this next dance, I think. Where's Anna?"

Anna did not say no. She would never say no to anything _he_ asked her, if I possessed the gift of divination. They joined the dancers; Bill and Helen went to the archery.

"And how are _you_ enjoying it, pray, Johnny Ludlow?"

The voice nearly shot me off the arm of the bench. For it was Mr.

Brandon's. I don't think there was any living man I should have been so surprised at seeing at the fete as he.

"Why! is it you, sir?"

"Yes, it is, Johnny. You need not stare as if you thought me an intruder. I was invited."

"Yes, of course, sir. But I--I fancied you never came to such parties."

"Never was at one like this--unless I went to it in my sleep," he said, standing with me before the bench, and casting his eyes around. "I came to-day to look after you."

"After me, sir!"

"Yes, after you. And perhaps a little bit after your friend, Todhetley.

Mr. Pell informed us the entertainments would include fortune-telling: I didn't know but there might be a roulette-table as well. Or cards, or dice, or billiards."

"Oh no, sir; there's nothing of that sort."

"It's not the fault of the young Pells, I expect, then. That choice companion of yours, called Gusty, and the other one in scarlet."

"Neither of them is here, Mr. Brandon. Gusty has gone to the Highlands for grouse-shooting; and Fabian sent word he couldn't get leave to come down. I have not seen the eldest son yet, but I suppose he is somewhere about."

"Oh," said Mr. Brandon--and whenever he spoke of the Pells his voice was thinner than ever, and most decidedly took a mocking sound--"gone grouse-shooting, is Gusty! And the other can't get leave. A lieutenant, is he not?"

"Yes, a lieutenant. His sister Constance has just told us she does not believe it is true that he could not get leave. She thinks he never asked for it, because he wanted to stay in London."

"Ah. It's fine to be the Pells, Johnny. One son off to shoot grouse; another living his fast London life; the rest holding grand doings down here that could hardly be matched by the first n.o.bleman amongst us. Very fine. Wonder what they spend a year--taking it in the aggregate?"

"Have you been here long, sir?"

"Half-an-hour, or so--I've been looking about me, Johnny, and listening to the champagne corks popping off. Squire here?"

"No. He and Mrs. Todhetley did not come."

"Sensible people. Where's young Joe?"

"He is with the Whitneys. Dancing with Anna, I think."

"And he had better keep to that," said Mr. Brandon, with a little nod.

"He'll get no harm there."

We sat down, side by side. Taking a side-glance at him, I saw his eyes fixed on Mrs. and the Miss Clement-Pells, who were now mixing with the company. He did not know much about ladies' dress, but theirs seemed to strike him.

"Showy, Johnny, is it not?"

"It looks very bright in the sun, sir."

"No doubt. So do spangles."

"It's real, sir, that lace. Helen Whitney says so."

"A great deal too real. So is the rest of it. Hark at the music and the corks and the laughter! Look at the people, and the folly!"

"Don't you like the fete, sir?"

"Johnny, I hate it with my whole heart."

I was silent. Mr. Brandon was always more queer than other people.

"Is it in _keeping_ with the Pells, this upstart grandeur and profusion?

Come, Johnny Ludlow, you've some sense in your head: answer me. They have both risen from nothing, Johnny. When he began life, Pell's ambition was to rise to a competency; an el dorado of three or four hundred a year: and that only when he had worked for it. I have seen her take in the milk for their tea from the milkman at the door; when they kept one servant to do everything. Pell rose by degrees and grew rich; so much the more credit due to his perseverance and his business talents----"

"And would you not have them spend their riches, Mr. Brandon?"