“With people one liked about one,” said Miss O'Reilly, “I don't see why this should n't be a delicious spot.”
“There's not a hundred yards of background. You could n't give a horse walking exercise here if your life was on it,” said Spicer, contemptuously.
“Splendid grapes, wonderful oranges, finest melons I ever saw,—all going to waste too,” said Twining, laughing, as if such utter neglect was a very droll thing. “Get this place a bargain,—might have it for a mere nothing.”
“So you might, O'Reilly,” said the Viscount; “it is one of those deserted spots that are picked up for a tenth of their value; buy it, fit it up handsomely, and we'll come and spend the autumn with you,—won't we, Twining?”
“Upon my life we will, I 'll swear it; be here 1st September to the day, and stay till—as long as you please. Great fun!”
“Delicious spot to come and repose in from the cares and worries of life,” said Lord Lackington, as he stretched upon a bench and began peeling an orange.
“I 'd get the blue devils in a week; I 'd be found hanging some fine morning—”
“For shame, papa,” broke in Molly. “My Lord says he 'd come on a visit to us, and you know we 'd only be here in the autumn.”
“Just so—come here for the wine season—get in your olives and look after your oil—great fun,” chimed in Twining, merrily.
“I declare, I 'd like it of all things, would not you?” said the elder girl to Spicer, who had now begun to reflect that there was a kind of straw-yard season for men as well as for hunters,—when the great object was to live cheap and husband your resources; and as he ruminated over the lazy quietness of an existence that would cost nothing, when even his “Bell's Life” should be inserted amongst the family extraordinaires, he vouchsafed to approve the scheme; and in his mumbling tone, in imitation of Heaven knows what celebrated sporting character, he grumbled out, “Make the governor go in for it by all means!”