"But how should Jack know that?"
"Because I am sure he knows him-or, at least, of him."
"Listen, Mistress Di," broke in my lord, shooting a warning glance at O'Hara. "I will tell you all about Mr. Everard, and I hope you will be satisfied with my tale." He paused and seemed to cudgel his brain. "First he is, of course, titled-let me see-yes, he is a Duke.
Oh, he is certainly a Duke-and I am not sure but what he is royal-he-"
"Now you are ridiculous!" cried Miss Betty.
"You are very teasing," said Diana, and tried to frown. "First you pretend to know nothing about Mr. Everard, and then you tell me foolish stories about him. A Duke, indeed! I believe you really do know nothing about him!"
As Carstares had hoped, she refused to believe the truth.
"He is playing with ye, child," said O'Hara, who had listened to Jack's tale with a face of wonder. "I warrant he knows no Everard-eh, Jack?"
"No, I cannot say that I do," laughed his lordship.
"But-but-you said-"
"Never mind what he said, Miss Di. 'Tis a scurvy fellow he is."
She regarded him gravely.
"Indeed, I almost think so."
But the dimple peeped out for all that The next instant it was gone, and Diana turned a face of gloom to her aunt, pouting her red lips adorably, so thought my lord.
"Mr. Bettison," she said in accents of despair.
At these mystic words, Jack saw Miss Betty frown, and heard her impatient remark: "Drat the man!"
He looked towards the house, and perceived a short, rather stout, young man to be walking with a peculiar strutting gait towards them.
The boy was good-looking, Carstares acknowledged to himself, but his eyes were set too close. And he did not like his style. No, certainly he did not like his style, nor the proprietary way in which he kissed Diana's hand.
"How agreeable it is to see you again, Mr. Bettison!" said Miss Betty with much affability. "I declare 'tis an age since we set eyes on you!"
"Oh, no, Aunt," contradicted Diana sweetly. "Why, it was only a very short while ago that Mr. Bettison was here, surely!" She withdrew the hand that the young man seemed inclined to hold fast to, and turned to John.
"I think you do not know Mr. Bettison, Mr. Carr?" she said. "Mr. Bettison, allow me to present you to Mr. Carr. Sir Miles I think you know?"
The squire bowed with a great deal of stiff hostility. Carstares returned the bow.
"You will excuse my not rising, I beg," he smiled. "As you perceive-I have had an accident."