He
always has a photograph in his pocket, and Price has seen him looking
at it.'
'Ah! depend upon it, Miss Sophy, it is all a romance of these young
gentlemen,' said Genevieve, turning to her with a droll provoking air
of confidence; 'ce pauvre Monsieur had the portrait of his sister!'
'Catch me carrying Sophy's face in my waistcoat pocket, cried
Gilbert, forgetting his languor.
'Speak for yourself, Mr. Gilbert,' laughed Genevieve.
'And he writes letters every day, and wont let any of us put them
into the post for him; but we know the direction begins with Miss--'
'Oh! the curious boys!' cried Genevieve. 'If I could only hint to
this poor tutor to let them read Miss Downton on one!'
'I assure you,' cried Gilbert, 'Price has laid a bet that she's an
heiress with forty thousand pounds and red hair.'
'Mr. Price is an impertinent! I hope you will inform me how he looks
when he is the loser.'
'But he has seen her! He met Mr. Downton last Christmas in Regent
Street, in a swell carriage, with a lady with such carrots, he
thought her bonnet was on fire; and Mr. Downton never saw Price,
though he bowed to him, and you know nobody would marry a woman with
red hair unless she was an heiress.'
'Miss Sophy,' whispered Genevieve, 'prepare for a red-haired
sister-in-law. I predict that every one of the pupils of the respectable
Mr. Downton will marry ladies with lively chestnut locks.
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