Mrs. Jallatt's young people's parties were severely exclusive; it came
cheaper that way, because you could ask fewer to them. Mrs. Jallatt
didn't study cheapness, but somehow she generally attained it.
"There'll be about ten girls," speculated Rollo, as he drove to the
function, "and I suppose four fellows, unless the Wrotsleys bring their
cousin, which Heaven forbid. That would mean Jack and me against three
of them."
Rollo and the Wrotsley brethren had maintained an undying feud almost
from nursery days. They only met now and then in the holidays, and the
meeting was usually tragic for whichever happened to have the fewest
backers on hand. Rollo was counting to-night on the presence of a
devoted and muscular partisan to hold an even balance. As he arrived he
heard his prospective champion's sister apologising to the hostess for
the unavoidable absence of her brother; a moment later he noted that the
Wrotsleys _had_ brought their cousin.
Two against three would have been exciting and possibly unpleasant; one
against three promised to be about as amusing as a visit to the dentist.
Rollo ordered his carriage for as early as was decently possible, and
faced the company with a smile that he imagined the better sort of
aristocrat would have worn when mounting to the guillotine.
"So glad you were able to come," said the elder Wrotsley heartily.
"Now, you children will like to play games, I suppose," said Mrs.
Jallatt, by way of giving things a start, and as they were too well-bred
to contradict her there only remained the question of what they were to
play at.
"I know of a good game," said the elder Wrotsley innocently. "The
fellows leave the room and think of a word; then they come back again,
and the girls have to find out what the word is."
Rollo knew the game. He would have suggested it himself if his faction
had been in the majority.
"It doesn't promise to be very exciting," sniffed the superior Dolores
Sneep as the boys filed out of the room. Rollo thought differently. He
trusted to Providence that Wrotsley had nothing worse than knotted
handkerchiefs at his disposal.
The word-choosers locked themselves in the library to ensure that their
deliberations should not be interrupted. Providence turned out to be not
even decently neutral; on a rack on the library wall were a dog-whip and
a whalebone riding-switch. Rollo thought it criminal negligence to leave
such weapons of precision lying about. He was given a choice of evils,
and chose the dog-whip; the next minute or so he spent in wondering how
he could have made such a stupid selection. Then they went back to the
languidly expectant females.
"The word's 'camel,'" announced the Wrotsley cousin blunderingly.
"You stupid!" screamed the girls, "we've got to _guess_ the word. Now
you'll have to go back and think of another."
"Not for worlds," said Rollo; "I mean, the word isn't really camel; we
were rotting. Pretend it's dromedary!" he whispered to the others.
"I heard them say 'dromedary'! I heard them. I don't care what you say;
I heard them," squealed the odious Dolores. "With ears as long as hers
one would hear anything," thought Rollo savagely.
"We shall have to go back, I suppose," said the elder Wrotsley
resignedly.
The conclave locked itself once more into the library. "Look here, I'm
not going through that dog-whip business again," protested Rollo.
"Certainly not, dear," said the elder Wrotsley; "we'll try the whalebone
switch this time, and you'll know which hurts most. It's only by
personal experience that one finds out these things."
It was swiftly borne in upon Rollo that his earlier selection of the
dog-whip had been a really sound one. The conclave gave his under-lip
time to steady itself while it debated the choice of the necessary word.
"Mustang" was no good, as half the girls wouldn't know what it meant;
finally "quagga" was pitched on.
"You must come and sit down over here," chorused the investigating
committee on their return; but Rollo was obdurate in insisting that the
questioned person always stood up. On the whole, it was a relief when
the game was ended and supper was announced.
Mrs. Jallatt did not stint her young guests, but the more expensive
delicacies of her supper-table were never unnecessarily duplicated, and
it was usually good policy to take what you wanted while it was still
there. On this occasion she had provided sixteen peaches to "go round"
among fourteen children; it was really not her fault that the two
Wrotsleys and their cousin, foreseeing the long foodless drive home, had
each quietly pocketed an extra peach, but it was distinctly trying for
Dolores and the fat and good-natured Agnes Blaik to be left with one
peach between them.
"I suppose we had better halve it," said Dolores sourly.
But Agnes was fat first and good-natured afterwards; those were her
guiding principles in life. She was profuse in her sympathy for Dolores,
but she hastily devoured the peach, explaining that it would spoil it to
divide it; the juice ran out so.
"Now what would you all like to do?" demanded Mrs. Jallatt by way of
diversion. "The professional conjurer whom I had engaged has failed me
at the last moment. Can any of you recite?"
There were symptoms of a general panic. Dolores was known to recite
"Locksley Hall" on the least provocation. There had been occasions when
her opening line, "Comrades, leave me here a little," had been taken as a
literal injunction by a large section of her hearers. There was a murmur
of relief when Rollo hastily declared that he could do a few conjuring
tricks. He had never done one in his life, but those two visits to the
library had goaded him to unusual recklessness.
"You've seen conjuring chaps take coins and cards out of people," he
announced; "well, I'm going to take more interesting things out of some
of you. Mice, for instance."
"Not mice!"
A shrill protest rose, as he had foreseen, from the majority of his
audience.
"Well, fruit, them."
The amended proposal was received with approval. Agnes positively
beamed.
Without more ado Rollo made straight for his trio of enemies, plunged his
hand successively into their breast-pockets, and produced three peaches.
There was no applause, but no amount of hand-clapping would have given
the performer as much pleasure as the silence which greeted his coup.
"Of course, we were in the know," said the Wrotsley cousin lamely.
"That's done it," chuckled Rollo to himself.
"If they _had_ been confederates they would have sworn they knew nothing
about it," said Dolores, with piercing conviction.
"Do you know any more tricks?" asked Mrs. Jallatt hurriedly.
Rollo did not. He hinted that he might have changed the three peaches
into something else, but Agnes had already converted one into girl-food,
so nothing more could be done in that direction.
"I know a game," said the elder Wrotsley heavily, "where the fellows go
out of the room, and think of some character in history; then they come
back and act him, and the girls have to guess who it's meant for."
"I'm afraid I must be going," said Rollo to his hostess.
"Your carriage won't be here for another twenty minutes," said Mrs.
Jallatt.
"It's such a fine evening I think I'll walk and meet it."
"It's raining rather steadily at present. You've just time to play that
historical game."
"We haven't heard Dolores recite," said Rollo desperately; as soon as he
had said it he realised his mistake. Confronted with the alternative of
"Locksley Hall," public opinion declared unanimously for the history
game.
Rollo played his last card. In an undertone meant apparently for the
Wrotsley boy, but carefully pitched to reach Agnes, he observed--
"All right, old man; we'll go and finish those chocolates we left in the
library."
"I think it's only fair that the girls should take their turn in going
out," exclaimed Agnes briskly. She was great on fairness.
"Nonsense," said the others; "there are too many of us."
"Well, four of us can go. I'll be one of them."
And Agnes darted off towards the library, followed by three less eager
damsels.
Rollo sank into a chair and smiled ever so faintly at the Wrotsleys, just
a momentary baring of the teeth; an otter, escaping from the fangs of the
hounds into the safety of a deep pool, might have given a similar
demonstration of feelings.
From the library came the sound of moving furniture. Agnes was leaving
nothing unturned in her quest for the mythical chocolates. And then came
a more blessed sound, wheels crunching wet gravel.
"It has been a most enjoyable evening," said Rollo to his hostess.