“Does Lady Mulgrave sing?” she continued, in a bolder key.
“No”—and he gave a slight start—“but, Tito, her daughter, is fond of music; she is nearly your age, or a little older. You will be, I hope, capital companions for one another; she’s a bit of a rattle, but a good-hearted girl.”
“Is she pretty?” she asked.
“Not exactly; but rather attractive and piquante.”
“I never heard that word before; I suppose it means something nice?”
“Yes. You will see for yourself. She and Dudley are great friends; he is my heir, you know, and your cousin; we see a good deal of him.”
“And what is he like?”
“Oh, fairly good-looking, but a lazy beggar. He did well in South Africa, but got enteric, and was laid on his back for so long I believe he fancies he is still there. You have put his nose a bit out of joint, for some of the estates will now go to you.”
“Is it to me? Sure I’m not fit to own land. Once they wanted to make up a match for me with a strong farmer; his people were eager for it, on account of the fifty pounds.”
“But you said no?”