Then Mrs. Atheling and Kitty cheered the Squire more than a little, with smiles, and kisses, and proud words; and he went on with increased animation, “In a minute O’Connell was on his feet again, and he called me a lot of names I needn’t repeat here; until he said, ‘My example of a glass of ale was exactly what anybody might expect from such a John Bull as the member for Asketh.’ And, Maude and Kitty, I could not stand that. The House was shouting, ‘Order! Order!’ and I cried, ‘Mr. Speaker!’ and the Speaker said, ‘Order, the member for Kilkenny is speaking!’ ‘But, Mr. Speaker,’ I said, ‘I only want to say to the member for Kilkenny that I would rather be a John Bull, than a bully.’ And that was the end. There was no ‘Order’ after it. Our side cheered and roared, and, Maude, what dost thou think?–the one to cheer loudest was thy son Edgar. He must have got in by the Speaker’s favour; but there he was, and when I came through the lobby, with Piers and Lord Althorp, and a crowd after me, he was standing with that young fellow I threw on Atheling Green; and he looked at me so pleased, and eager, and happy, that I thought for a moment he was going to shake hands; but I kept my hands in my pockets–yet I’ll say this,–he has thy fine eyes, Maude,–I most felt as if thou wert looking at me.”
“John! John! How couldst thou keep thy hands in thy pockets? How couldst thou do such an unfatherly thing? I’m ashamed of thee! I am.”
“Give me a slice of ham, and don’t ask questions. I want my breakfast now. I can’t live on talk, as if I was a woman.”
Fortunately at this moment a servant entered with the morning’s mail. He gave Mrs. Atheling a letter, and Kate two letters; and then offered the large salver full of matter to the Squire. He looked at the pile with indignation. “Put it out of my sight, Dobson,” he said angrily. “Do you think I want letters and papers to my breakfast? I’m astonished at you!” He was breaking his egg-shell impatiently as he spoke, and he looked up with affected anger at his companions. Kitty met his glance with a smile. She could afford to do so, for both her letters lay untouched at her side. She tapped the upper one and said, “It is from Miss Vyner, Father; it can easily wait.”
“And the other, Kitty? Who is it from?”
“From Piers, I don’t want to read it yet.”
“To be sure.” Then he looked at Mrs. Atheling, and was surprised. Her face was really shining with pleasure, her eyes misty with happy tears. She held her letter with a certain pride and tenderness that her whole attitude also expressed; and the Squire had an instant premonition as to the writer of it.
“Well, Maude,” he said, “I would drink my coffee, if I was thee. A cup of coffee costs a deal now; and it’s a shame to let it get cold and sloppy over a bit of a letter–nobody knows who from.”
“It is from Edgar,” said Mrs. Atheling, far too proud and pleased to keep her happiness to herself. “And, John, I am going to have a little lunch-party to-day at two o’clock; and I do wish thou wouldst make it in thy way to be present.”
“I won’t. And I would like to know who is coming here. I won’t have all kinds and sorts sitting at my board, and eating my bread and salt–and I never heard tell of a good wife asking people to do that without even mentioning their names to her husband–and–”