"Beg pardon."
The young gentleman had his feet on the seat in front of him, his hat tilted over his eyes, and his hands in his trousers pockets, and was probably anathematising himself for not having gone at once into a smoking carriage instead of endeavouring to secure a whole compartment to himself for the solitary enjoyment, in defiance of the company's by-laws, of "a fragrant weed." But on Mrs. Paynter's addressing to him her inquiry his feet went off the cushions, his hat from over his eyes, and his hands from out of his pockets with a celerity which was comical.
"I merely inquired if you were acquainted, by sight, with the person of tiie Earl of Datchet."
When this question was put to him the stranger's demeanour was really singular. He half rose from his seat, and stared.
"Well, I'm blowed ! That's good."
"Sir!"
Mrs. Paynter regarded him through her glasses with supercilious surprise. The stranger transferred his glance from the mother to the daughter; as it fell upon the daughter he started again.
"Beg pardon. I didn't notice. Did you ask me if I knew Datchet?"
Miss Paynter smiled; she seemed tickled by the stranger's manner.
"It was not I; it was my mother."
Mrs. Paynter did not smile.
"Pray, Edith, do not let us trouble this person further. I merely made a commonplace inquiry. I perceive that I made a mistake."
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