However, Mr. Tom took a much more cool and business-like view of the matter.
'When he is let out,' he remarked, 'I hope the Vice-chancellor will make the other side pay the costs of all these applications and proceedings. I don't see why we should pay, simply because Jack Hanbury went and made an ass of himself.'
'I beg you to remember that you are speaking of my husband?' said Madge, with a sudden fierceness.
'Oh, well, but didn't he?' Mr. Tom said. 'What was the use of bolting like that, when he knew he must be laid by the heels? Why didn't he go to his father and uncle to begin with, and get them to make this arrangement they have now, and then have gone to the chief clerk and showed him that there was no objection anywhere----'
'It was because you were all against him,' said poor Madge, beginning to cry. 'Everybody--everybody. And now he may be shut up there for a whole year--or two years----'
'Oh, but he isn't so badly off,' said Mr. Tom, soothingly. 'You can see they treat him very well. By Jingo, if it was the treadmill, now--that would exercise his toes for him. I tried it once in York Castle; and I can tell you when you find this thing pawing at you over your head it's like an elephant having a game with you. Never mind, Madge. Don't cry. Look here; I'll bet you five sovereigns to one that they let him out on the next application--that's for Thursday. Are you on?'
It was wonderful how quickly the light came into her face.
'Then there is a chance?' she said. 'I can't believe the others; for they are only trying to comfort me. But if you would bet on it, Tom--then there's really a chance.'
'Bet's off. You should have snapped at it, Madge. Never mind, you'll have your dear Jack: that'll do instead.'
That afternoon Mary Beresford, now Mrs. Rupert, called, and Mr. Tom, with much dignity of manner, came into the room holding an open letter in his hand,
'Ladies and gentlemen,' he said, 'and friends assembled, I have a piece of news for you. Mr. Francis Holford King, late Commander in Her Majesty's Navy, has just contracted a--what d'ye call it?--kind of engagement with Miss Anne Beresford of that ilk. It strikes me this is what is termed consolation-stakes----'
'There you are quite wrong,' said Madge, promptly and cheerfully. 'He meant to make me the consolation-stakes: for it was Nan that he wanted to marry all the way through.'