Part 42 (1/2)

Jill had gallantly struck up her polka on the piano, but as no one listened and no one danced, she gave it up and returned to the support of her brother.

”It's going splendidly,” said Tom in a stage whisper; ”they all seem to be enjoying it.”

They certainly were--for as each gradually took in the situation, and received his cue from his neighbour, an unwonted air of humour permeated the room.

A few hoity-toity persons of course felt outraged, and would have ordered their carriages had there been any one to order them from. The honest Raffles was, to tell the truth, secretly busy, on a signal from Tom, preparing for the banquet in the dining-room, and no other servant was to be seen.

”My dear,” said Mrs Pottinger, in a severely audible voice to her husband, ”I wish to return home. Will you get our carriage? My ideas of amus.e.m.e.nt do not correspond with those of the young people.”

”Oh, don't go yet!” said Tom, with beaming face, for he had caught sight of Raffles' powdered wig at the door; ”there's some grub ready in the next room. It would have been ready before, only the herrings--”

”Tom,” said Jill, ”there's the Bishop just come. He couldn't come for Roger's birthday, you know.”

”How do you do, Bishop?” said Tom, grasping the new arrival by the hand.

”Jolly you could come this time. I was just saying there's some grub in the next room. Jill, Raff had better ring up on the gong, tell him.”

Raffles accordingly sounded an alarm on the gong, which brought the company to attention.

”Supper!” cried Tom encouragingly, and led the way, allowing the company generally to sort themselves.

The Duke behaved n.o.bly that night. He gallantly gave his arm to Jill, and asked the Bishop to bring in one of his daughters. This saved Miss Oliphant's party from the collapse which threatened it. Every one took the cue from the great people. Even Mrs Pottinger accepted the arm of the curate, and the ardent youths, who had all arrived under the delusion that Miss Rosalind was the hostess, forgot their disappointment, and vowed to see the youngsters through with it.

”Oh, Duke!” said Jill, hanging affectionately on her n.o.ble escort's arm, ”are you liking it? Do try and like it! It's Tom's and my first party, and we want it to be a jolly one.”

”I never enjoyed a party half so much,” said His Grace.

Jill thought him at that moment almost as nice as dear Mr Armstrong.

”Jill,” said Tom, waylaying his sister at the door, ”we might have cut the herrings in three after all. Never mind, some of them will be able to have two goes. I'll see you do. Good old Jilly. Isn't it going off prime? And you know, the fireworks are still to come!”

It was too severe a strain on the gravity of some of the guests when they beheld each his ”go” of lukewarm herring, cocoa-nut, coffee-ice, and penny bun, with a single plate to accommodate the whole, on the board before him. But the laughter, if it reached the ears of the genial host and hostess, was taken by them as a symptom of delight, in which they heartily shared.

Tom, as he cast his eye down the festive board--object of so much solicitude and physical exertion--never felt happier in his life. More than half of the company would be able to get a second helping of fish and bun!

”Wire in,” said he to his guests generally, and to the younger Lady Marigold, his next neighbour, in particular, ”before it gets cold.

Awfully sorry the cocoa-nut milk wasn't enough to go round, so Jill and I thought--”

Here a guilty look from Jill pulled him up. Dear old Jilly, he wouldn't let out on her for worlds.

A good many eyes turned curiously to where the Duke sat with his ”go”

before him. Those who were quick at observing details noticed that he had ranged his cocoa-nut and ice on the edge of his plate, and was beginning to attack his herring with every sign of relish. His portion consisted mostly of hard roe, for which he had no natural predilection, but this evening he seemed to enjoy it, helping it down with occasional bites at the bun, and keeping up a cheerful conversation the while.

The Bishop, too, who had a tail, was making a capital meal, as were also several other of the guests near him.

”Capital fis.h.!.+” said the Duke presently. Then beckoning to Raffles, ”Can you get me a little more?”

”Yes, your grace.”

Tom felt a little anxious lest Raffles should select from out of the surplus ”goes” one of those with the heads which were to eke out in a last emergency. But when he saw that the duke's second helping consisted of a prime ”waist” he rejoiced with all his heart.