a moment, that's all; or get
into the carriage and I'll take you anywhere. Dolly and I have driven
round and round, and we have not seen a creature we cared to see. Yes!
there was a darling, darling little Maltese terrier, with white silk
curls hanging over his eyes, on an odious woman's lap; but I cannot
expect you to find that angel for me. Mr. Tatham, who is that tall boy?"

"Pippo," said John, quickly (though probably he had never in his life
before used that name, which he disapproved of angrily, as people often
do of a childish name which does not please them), "go on. I'll come
after you directly. The boy is a cousin of mine, Lady Mariamne, just
from school."

"Mr. Tatham, I am quite sure it is Nell's boy. Call after him. What's
his name? Bring him back! John Thomas, run after that young gentleman,
and say with my compliments----"

"Nothing," said John, stopping the footman with a lifted hand and a
still more emphatic look. "He is hastening home to--an engagement. And
it's evident I had better go too--for your little friend there is
showing his teeth."

"The darling!" said Lady Mariamne, "did it show its little pearls at the
wicked man that will not do what its mummy says? Dolly, can't you jump
down and run after that boy? I am sure it is your Uncle Philip's boy."

"He is out of sight, mother," said Miss Dolly, calmly.

"You are the most dreadful, wicked, unkind people, all of you. Show its
little teeth, then, darling! Oo's the only one that has any feeling. Mr.
Tatham, do tell me something about this trial. What is going to be
done? Phil is mixed up in it. I know he is. Can they do anything to
anybody--after all this time? They can't make you pay up, I know, after
a certain time. Oh, couldn't it all be hushed up and stopped and kept
out of the newspapers? I hate the newspapers, always chuckling over
every new discovery. But this cannot be called a new discovery. If it's
true it's old, as old as the old beginning of the world. Don't you think
somebody could get at the newspaper men and have it hushed up?"

"I doubt if you could get hold of all of them, their name is legion,"
said John.

"Oh, I don't care what their name is. If you will help me, Mr. Tatham,
we could get hold of most of them--won't you? You know, don't you, poor
St. Serf is so bad; it may be over any day--and then only think what a
complication! Dolly, turn your head the other way; look at that silly
young Huntsfield capering about to catc