Part 20 (1/2)
Jill poured out a cup of tea for her visitor, and looked at the clock.
”I wonder where Uncle Chris has got to,” she said. ”He ought to be here by now. I hope he hasn't got into any mischief among the wild stockbrokers down at Brighton.”
Freddie laid down his cup on the table and uttered a loud snort.
”Oh, Freddie, darling!” said Jill remorsefully. ”I forgot!
Stockbrokers are a painful subject, aren't they!” She turned to Nelly.
”There's been an awful slump on the Stock Exchange to-day, and he got--what was the word, Freddie?”
”Nipped!” said Freddie with gloom.
”Nipped!”
”Nipped like the d.i.c.kens!”
”Nipped like the d.i.c.kens!” Jill smiled at Nelly. ”He had forgotten all about it in the excitement of being a jailbird, and I went and reminded him.”
Freddie sought sympathy from Nelly.
”A silly a.s.s at the club named Jimmy Monroe told me to take a flutter in some rotten thing called Amalgamated Dyes. You know how it is, when you're feeling devilish fit and cheery and all that after dinner, and somebody sidles up to you and slips his little hand in yours and tells you to do some fool thing. You're so dashed happy you simply say 'Right-ho, old bird! Make it so!' That's the way I got had!”
Jill laughed unfeelingly.
”It will do you good, Freddie. It'll stir you up and prevent you being so silly again. Besides, you know you'll hardly notice it. You've much too much money as it is.”
”It's not the money. It's the principle of the thing. I hate looking a frightful chump.”
”Well, you needn't tell anybody. We'll keep it a secret. In fact, we'll start at once, for I hear Uncle Chris outside. Let us dissemble.
We are observed!... Hullo, Uncle Chris!”
She ran down the room, as the door opened, and kissed the tall, soldierly man who entered.
”Well, Jill, my dear.”
”How late you are. I was expecting you hours ago.”
”I had to call on my broker.”
”Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+”
”What's the matter?”
”Nothing, nothing.... We've got visitors. You know Freddie Rooke, of course?”
”How are you, Freddie, my boy?”
”Cheerio!” said Freddie. ”Pretty fit?”
”And Miss Bryant,” said Jill.