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Pageant

V

page 162

V

Into the confusion of shearing and Christmas preparations at Clent, Oliver brought Lieutenant Valentine Paige who he intended should prove Jenny's "Fancy." Or the fancy of those controlling her, which was much more important. Oliver, now managing Berry's racing stud at New Town, often regretted that he had not been born a gallant of the French Court at a time when parasites were at their zenith. He knew himself designed, like the native cherry on the hills, to feed on the roots of others, and what better way to do it than by providing himself with a number of rich relatives? To marry a rich wife was one way. But to marry Jenny to young Paige who greatly admired him and had lately bought a fine property on the Hobart Town side of the Bagdad Valley, was a better one. He had already mentally chosen a couple of sunny rooms for himself in Paige's house when Jenny should be mistress.

And then, later, there would be Charlotte.

Oliver, planning Charlotte all the way from town, found himself moved to indignation at sight of the big, plain, heavy girl. It was indecent that an exquisite such as he should have a niece like Charlotte. Possibly he might find some brewer or tobacco-and-spirit merchant who liked them fat. Fanny, at eight, was fair and delicious, and in time there would be the twins. Oliver foresaw endless consolations for his much dreaded old age and was pleased with Mr. Paige's comments on Jenny, who really did combine the fresh sweetness of the English rose with the delicacy of the French fleur-de-lis. Nothing takes like sweetness nowadays, thought Oliver, who preferred 'em with a flavour, himself.

"And Paige is really struck with her, by God," he protested to Madam, who caught him next morning with his hands full of sun-warmed apricots on the lawn. Jenny, Maria, and Lydia Quorn from Hobart Town played shuttlecock down the green slopes, and Mr. Paige leaned on the sundial in an attitude more suggestive of inviting admiration than conveying it. Madam had no objection to that. She liked a man who knew his worth; and this Paige was worth a great deal, even without his exterior, page 163which, by reason of a little moustache and beard, contrived to look quite foreign and excessively elegant. And his flowered waistcoats undoubtedly came from Paris, even if he did not. Madam's brown eyes questioned Oliver. There was much understanding between the two.

"Oh, a prig, ma'am; I grant you that," admitted Oliver. "But upright on his legs. The best catch in town."

"Jenny will not need to catch her husband. She will be caught," returned Madam crisply. But she floated off with her wide shimmering skirts to watch white shuttlecocks fly against blue sky. Bim-bim went the battledore of tall flaxen Maria in her tartan silks. "Ow!" screeched Lydia Quorn, dark and sharp-nosed in white muslin. Jenny said nothing. Like blown blossom of pink may she paused and darted…. The dainty bouquetière, thought Madam, fondly. Dieu send a good husband to pick her, I wonder much if this is he.

Mr. Paige was certainly attracted. With quizzing-glass he followed Jenny's movements.

"'Pon honour, ma'am, a fairy, I declare. Upon what cobweb did she descend to gladden our eyes?" His drawl was as exclusive as the rest of him. Even to Madam's jealous eyes he seemed a very proper fellow. "I have just seen the 'The Mountain Sylph' on the stage in Hobarton. I prefer her off it, by Jove," said Mr. Paige.

"My granddaughter is very young," assented Madam with the airy indifference of the creator. But she was well pleased. Jenny, it appeared, was going to do what was expected of her.