“Laugh, sir? Laugh in God’s House! Certainly not, but I fairly split my sides in the churchyard.”
As soon as Lady Pomfret left the dining-room, the Squire said briskly:
“Another glass of wine, Lionel? It won’t hurt you, my boy,” and he pushed the decanter across the table.
“Thanks, no.” He hesitated, flushed, and plunged.
“The truth is, sir, I do need Dutch courage. But with your permission I’ll drink another glass of wine after I’ve told you something.”
“Damn it all!” he roared. “Have you told me a lie? Are you in love?”
The Squire’s face indicated immense relief.
“Pass the wine, sir. If you think you’ll need stiffening after your story, I shall do well to fortify myself before.”
He waited for the outburst, but none came. Lionel went on hastily. He stated his case, the nature of the debt, and how it could be met by an advance from his agents, with a written guarantee from the Squire. He finished gallantly:
“I can pay up by instalments, out of my allowance. And when I join the regiment, I am reasonably sure of being made adjutant, if I work for it. The C.O. half promised that.”
“Will you give me your word of honour that your debts do not exceed the sum you mention?”
“Then fill your glass. I shall make arrangements that my bankers pay £500 into your account at Cox’s. This is a first offence, and if I know you it will be the last. Your allowance is about right. You can’t pay instalments out of it. Have you spoken to your dear mother of this debt?”
“Then—mum’s the word. I impose that condition. I can’t have my blessed woman worried. Well, well, you frightened me out of my wits. From your face I made cocksure of some cursed entanglement with a petticoat.”
“Father, this is most awfully generous. I—I don’t know what to say. And, believe me, if I had guessed that things were a bit tight with you, I should have gone slower. When you told me about the shooting I had a fit.”
“There, there, you’re a good boy, and perhaps I ought to have taken such a son into my confidence. The shooting was let for a specific purpose. I haven’t entertained decently since you left home. We must cut down our celebrations—what? And you must do without a clinking good horse which I know of. Why the devil doesn’t Ben bring the coffee?”
