“And this little creature, now,” said Lady Skettles, turning to Paul. “Is he one of the—”
“Young gentlemen, Ma’am; yes, Ma’am,” said Paul’s friend.
“And what is your name, my pale child?” said Lady Skettles.
“Dombey,” answered Paul.
Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, and said that he had had the honour of meeting Paul’s father at a public dinner, and that he hoped he was very well. Then Paul heard him say to Lady Skettles, “City—very rich—most respectable—Doctor mentioned it.” And then he said to Paul, “Will you tell your good Papa that Sir Barnet Skettles rejoiced to hear that he was very well, and sent him his best compliments?”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Paul.
“That is my brave boy,” said Sir Barnet Skettles. “Barnet,” to Master Skettles, who was revenging himself for the studies to come, on the plum-cake, “this is a young gentleman you ought to know. This is a young gentleman you may know, Barnet,” said Sir Barnet Skettles, with an emphasis on the permission.
“What eyes! What hair! What a lovely face!” exclaimed Lady Skettles softly, as she looked at Florence through her glass.
“My sister,” said Paul, presenting her.
The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now complete. And as Lady Skettles had conceived, at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all went upstairs together: Sir Barnet Skettles taking care of Florence, and young Barnet following.