The baronet flared up at last with righteous and disgusted wrath.
“What, madam! You hint that I am fuddled? I can see the pips as clear as you can.”
“I think it is time that we laid down our cards,” said Mrs. Bilson, rising.
“Exactly, madam. I heartily agree with you, madam,” retorted the baronet, savagely, “whist is only fit for old women.”
“Will you be so good as to ring for my coach, Richard Jeffray? Lot, Jilian, it is time we were moving. Lady Letitia, I kiss your hand. Gentlemen, good-night.”
Jeffray had hurried forward with an expression of pain upon his face. He glanced angrily at the Lady Letitia, and followed Sir Peter, who had marched pompously out of the room. The baronet frowned at him and ignored the hand that Richard had extended.
They had reached the hall, and Richard, who had given his orders to Peter Gladden, turned to appease the angry baronet. Sir Peter, who had been bubbling with a seething sense of wrong, exploded his wrath in Richard’s face.
“Don’t ask me to any more of your infernal drums or routs,” he said. “Those old women were for hinting that I cheated—cheated, sir, to pocket their damned miserly sixpences!”
“Deuce take your sureness, sir. I tell you that painted old image of an aunt of yours tricked us here, sir, to make fun of us before that old she-dog of a Bilson and the rest. Damme, sir, are we Hardacres to be set down to supper after all the Bilsons and Perkabys and nobodies in the county? Come, Jill, my lass, they sent you down with the snuffler, did they! Deuce take you, sir, my daughter ain’t one to be treated as though she were born on a dung-heap and dragged up in a hovel!”
Richard, bewildered, shamed and very miserable, turned to Miss Hardacre with a piteous and boyish appeal in his dark eyes.
“I wish I had never given the party,” he said.
“To be sure, little ’un,” quoth Mr. Lot, with a glum grin, “and you didn’t enjoy yourself at all, eh? Julia Perkaby’s a fine wench, Richard. What! Don’t know when a woman’s got a pair of deuced fine eyes in her head?”
Mr. Lot laughed loudly and slapped Jeffray on the shoulder with a vigor that was not wholly inspired by cousinly regard. Peter Gladden was standing at the hall door with a lantern in his hand; the Hardacre coach-horses were pawing the gravel without.