"Oh, thank you ... thank you!" he cried. "I think you must be the most splendid grandmother in the world!"
"It was your father's, when he was a lad ... like you," she murmured rather indistinctly. As so often happens in life, the recrudescence of maternal feeling for this grandson was stronger than what she had originally felt for her own sons.
Sophy was relieved and glad over the turn that things had taken. She had feared that the two strong wills might clash in some unfortunate way, even at first.
When, later, Lady Wychcote suggested that the boy had "rather an American accent," and that an English tutor would, in her opinion, be "advisable," Sophy acquiesced at once and said that she intended going to Oxford to consult Cecil's old tutor, Mr. Greyson, on the subject.
That same afternoon, Gerald called at Claridge's to see Sophy and his nephew. Bobby approved of his Uncle Gerald. Not so Loring, who came in a few minutes before Lord Wychcote left.
"Great Scott! What a 'lemon'!" he exclaimed, as the door closed. "I guess Bobby will be a lord some day all right-o."
"Ah, please don't, Morris!" Sophy said. "Gerald is one of the best friends I've ever had."
"'Friend'!" cried Loring, going into peals of laughter. "'Friend' is good. Why, he's so gone on you that a blind man could see it. Lemon-Squash—that's what he is. He's so sweet on you he isn't just plain lemon."
And from that hour, Loring never alluded to Gerald Wychcote as anything but "Lemon-Squash."