I sprang at the idea, but immediately sprang back, saying: "But it is not entirely proper for us to travel to Calais together, even though you are my sister-cousin."
"We may take father," she suggested. "Sarah wants to visit Lady St. Albans, and she can go if we take father with us. And, Baron Ned; I have another suggestion to offer. Let us take Bettina."
I sprang at that proposal and did not spring back. So we went first to my uncle, who said he would go with us, and then we went to see Bettina. She had recovered from her sprains and bruises, although she was still pale and not quite strong.
When Frances asked her to go with us, she answered, "Ay, gladly, if father consents."
Pickering, who was sitting with us at the time in Bettina's cozy parlor, turned to me, laughing, and said:—
"You would suppose, from Betty's remark, that I am master here, but the truth is my soul is not my own, and now her modest request for permission is made for effect on the company."
Betty ran to her father, sat on his knee, twined her arm about his neck, and kissed him as a protest against the unjust insinuation.
"You see how she does it," said Pickering. "No hammer and tongs for
Betty; just oil and honey."
"And lots and lots of love, father," interrupted Betty.
* * * * *