she bore it, acknowledging to herself in her misery that the fault did not lie with Mrs Boyce. How could Mrs Boyce have looked at her otherwise than tenderly?
It was settled, then, that Lily was to dine up at the Great House on Christmas Day, and thus show to the Allington world that she was not to be regarded as a person shut out from the world by the depth of her misfortune. That she was right there can, I think, be no doubt; but as she walked across the little bridge, with her mother and sister, after returning from church, she would have given much to be able to have turned round, and have gone to bed instead of to her uncle's dinner.
XXXII. Pawkins's in Jermyn Street
The show of fat beasts in London took place this year on the twentieth day of December, and I have always understood that a certain bullock exhibited by Lord De Guest was declared by the metropolitan butchers to have realised all the possible excellences of breeding, feeding, and condition. No doubt the butchers of the next half-century will have learned much better, and the Guestwick beast, could it be embalmed and then produced, would excite only ridicule at the agricultural ignorance of the present age; but Lord De Guest took the praise that was offered to him, and found himself in a seventh heaven of delight. He was never so happy as when surrounded by butchers, graziers, and salesmen who were able to appreciate the work of his life, and who regarded him as a model nobleman. 'Look at that fellow,' he said to Eames, pointing to the prize bullock. Eames had joined his patron at the show after his office hours, looking on upon the living beef by gaslight. 'Isn't he like his sire? He was got by Lambkin, you know.'
'Lambkin,' said Johnny, who had not as yet been able to learn much about the Guestwick stock.
'Yes, Lambkin. The bull that we had the trouble with. He has just got his sire's back and fore-quarters. Don't you see?'
'I daresay,' said Johnny, who looked very hard, but could not see.
'It's very odd,' exclaimed the earl, 'but do you know, that bull has been as quiet since that day,—as quiet as—as anything. I think it must have been my pocket-handkerchief.'
'I daresay it was,' said Johnny;—'Or perhaps the flies.'
'Flies!' said the earl, angrily. 'Do you suppose he isn't used to flies? Come away. I ordered dinner at seven, and it's past six now. My brother-in-law, Colonel Dale, is up in town, and he dines with us.' So he took Johnny's arm, and led him off through the show, calling his attention as he went to several beasts which were inferior to his own.
And then they walked down through Portman Square and Grosvenor Square, and across Piccadilly to Jermyn Street. John Eames acknowledged to himself that it was odd that he should have an earl leaning on his arm as he passed along through the streets. At home, in his own life, his daily companions were Cradell and Amelia Roper, Mrs Lupex and Mrs Roper. The difference was very great, and yet he found it quite as easy to talk to the earl as to Mrs Lupex.
'You know the Dales down at Allington, of course,' said the earl.
'Oh, yes, I know them.'
'But, perhaps, you never met the colonel.'
'I don't think I ever did.'
'He's a queer sort of fellow;—very well in his way, but he never does anything. He and my sister live at Torquay, and as far as I can find out, they neither of them have any occupation of any sort. He's come up to town now because we both had to meet our family lawyers and sign some papers, but he looks on the journey as a great hardship. As for me, I'm a year older than he is, but I wouldn't mind going up and down from Guestwick every day.'
'It's looking after the bull that does it,' said Eames.
'By George! you're right, Master Johnny. My sister and Crofts may tell me what they like, but when a man's out in the open air for eight or nine hours every day, it doesn't much matter where he goes to sleep after that. This is Pawkins's—capital good house, but not so good as it used to be while old Pawkins was alive. Show Mr Eames up into a bedroom to wash his hands.'
Colonel Dale was much like his brother in face, but was taller, even thinner, and apparently older. When Eames went into the sitting-room, the colonel was there alone, and had to take upon himself the trouble of introducing himself. He did not get up from his arm-chair, but nodded gently at the young man. 'Mr Eames, I believe? I knew your father at Guestwick, a great many years ago;' then he turned his face back towards the fire and sighed.
'It's got very cold this afternoon,' said Johnny, trying to make conversation.
