In the Year of Jubilee | Page 6

the girl's profile, with an eyelid
droop which signified calculation.
'How much is he really getting?' she inquired all at once.
'Seventy-five pounds a year. "_Oh where, oh where, is my leetle dog
gone?_"'
'Does he say,' asked Mrs. Peachey, 'that his governor will stump up?'
They spoke a peculiar tongue, the product of sham education and mock
refinement grafted upon a stock of robust vulgarity. One and all would
have been moved to indignant surprise if accused of ignorance or
defective breeding. Ada had frequented an 'establishment for young
ladies' up to the close of her seventeenth year; the other two had
pursued culture at a still more pretentious institute until they were
eighteen. All could 'play the piano;' all declared--and believed--that
they 'knew French.' Beatrice had 'done' Political Economy; Fanny had
'been through' Inorganic Chemistry and Botany. The truth was, of
course, that their minds, characters, propensities had remained
absolutely proof against such educational influence as had been brought
to bear upon them. That they used a finer accent than their servants,
signified only that they had grown up amid falsities, and were enabled,
by the help of money, to dwell above-stairs, instead of with their
spiritual kindred below.
Anticipating Fanny's reply, Beatrice observed, with her air of sagacity:
'If you think you're going to get anything out of an old screw like Lord,
you'll jolly soon find your mistake.'
'Don't you go and make a fool of yourself, Fanny,' said Mrs. Peachey.

'Why, he can't be more than twenty-one, is he?'
'He's turned twenty-two.'
The others laughed scornfully.
'Can't I have who I like for a masher?' cried Fanny, reddening a little.
'Who said I was going to marry him? I'm in no particular hurry to get
married. You think everybody's like yourselves.'
'If there was any chance of old Lord turning up his toes,' said Beatrice
thoughtfully. 'I dare say he'll leave a tidy handful behind him, but then
he may live another ten years or more.'
'And there's Nancy,' exclaimed Ada. 'Won't she get half the plunder?'
'May be plenty, even then,' said Beatrice, her head aside. 'The piano
business isn't a bad line. I shouldn't wonder if he leaves ten or fifteen
thousand.'
'Haven't you got anything out of Horace?' asked Ada of Fanny. 'What
has he told you?'
'He doesn't know much, that's the fact.'
'Silly! There you are. His father treats him like a boy; if he talked about
marrying, he'd get a cuff on the ear. Oh, I know all about old Lord,'
Ada proceeded. 'He's a regular old tyrant. Why, you've only to look at
him. And he thinks no small beer of himself, either, for all he lives in
that grubby little house; I shouldn't wonder if he thinks us beneath him.'
She stared at her sisters, inviting their comment on this_ ludicrous state
of things.
'I quite believe Nancy does,' said Fanny, with a point of malice.
'She's a stuck-up thing,' declared Mrs. Peachey. 'And she gets worse as
she gets older. I shall never invite her again; it's three times she has
made an excuse--all lies, of course.
'Who will she marry?' asked Beatrice, in a tone of disinterested
speculation.
Mrs. Peachey answered with a sneer:
'She's going to the Jubilee to pick up a fancy Prince.'
'As it happens,' objected Fanny, 'she isn't going to the Jubilee at all. At
least she says she isn't. She's above it--so her brother told me.'
'I know who wants to marry her,' Ada remarked, with a sour smile.
'Who is that?' came from the others.
'Mr. Crewe.'
With a significant giggle, Fanny glanced at the more sober of her

sisters; she, the while, touched her upper lip with the point of her
tongue, and looked towards the window.
'Does he?' Fanny asked of the ceiling.
'He wants money to float his teetotal drink,' said Beatrice. 'Hasn't he
been at Arthur about it?'
'Not that I know,' answered the wife.
'He tried to get round me, but I--'
A scream of incredulity from Fanny, and a chuckle from Mrs. Peachey,
covered the rest of the sentence. Beatrice gazed at them defiantly.
'Well, idiots! What's up now?'
'Oh, nothing.'
'There's nobody knows Luckworth Crewe better than I do,' Beatrice
pursued disdainfully, 'and I think he knows me pretty well. He'll make a
fool of himself when he marries; I've told him so, and he as good as
said I was right. If it wasn't for that, I should feel a respect for him.
He'll have money one of these days.'
'And he'll marry Nancy Lord,' said Ada tauntingly.
'Not just yet.'
Ada rolled herself from the sofa, and stood yawning.
'Well, I shall go and dress. What are you people going to do? You
needn't expect any dinner. I shall have mine at