“Spoken, Madonna, like an intelligent daughter. Between us we shall guess, sooner or later, what is his Excellency’s favourite perfume.”
“Why this is it, is it not?”
“Capital, on my faith. She has guessed it already.”
“Grandfather, I do not like you. I shall be severe. Tell me at once, is the grease on which these flowers are spread well purified in boiling water and nitre?”
“It is well purified, Madonna.”
“Has it since been boiled in a solution of rose-water and benzoin?”
“That is so, Madonna.” He answered with an amused, approving grin.
“And was the grease originally of choice selection?”
“The most choice, Madonna. The butcher who provided the ox who provided the suet is fourth cousin to a saint. The odour of sanctity is over it all from the first.”
“That is very good, then. My father will like to acquire sanctity so easily and so pleasantly.”