"Sir!" said Mrs. M'Catchley, startled, and lifting her glass. Leonard, rather confused, rose and offered his chair to Richard, who dropped into it. The lady, without waiting for formal introduction, guessed that she saw the rich uncle. "Such a sweet poet-Burns!" said she, dropping her glass. "And it is so refreshing to find so much youthful enthusiasm," she added, pointing her fan towards Leonard, who was receding fast among the crowd.
"Well, he is youthful, my nephew,—rather green!"
"Don't say green!" said Mrs. M'Catchley. Richard blushed scarlet. He was afraid he had committed himself to some expression low and shocking. The lady resumed, "Say unsophisticated."
"A tarnation long word," thought Richard; but he prudently bowed and held his tongue.
"Young men nowadays," continued Mrs. M'Catchley, resettling herself on the sofa, "affect to be so old. They don't dance, and they don't read, and they don't talk much! and a great many of them wear /toupets/ before they are two-and-twenty!"
Richard mechanically passed his hand through his thick curls. But he was still mute; he was still ruefully chewing the cud of the epithet "green." What occult horrid meaning did the word convey to ears polite? Why should he not say "green"?
"A very fine young man your nephew, sir," resumed Mrs. M' Catchley.
Richard grunted.
"And seems full of talent. Not yet at the University? Will he go to
Oxford or Cambridge?"
"I have not made up my mind yet if I shall send him to the University at all."