“Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till I catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you, dear.”
“I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as long as my friends will let me.”
“Thank you, cousin.”
“But that is not what we have in hand.”
The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. “Nurse, here is a penitent—a young gentleman who is never going to use rude words, or be violent and naughty again.”
“La! miss, why, it is witchcraft—the dear child—soon up and soon down, as a boy should.”
“Beg par'n, nurse—beg par'n, Kitty,” recited the dear child, late tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the nurses were reciting “little angel,” “all heart,” etc.
“To take the taste out of my mouth,” explained the penitent, and was left with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short intervals until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future union with Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the pins and needles that had goaded him to fury before.
Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning with one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished forehead; her grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the uttermost. So Newton looked, solving Nature.
Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching sight of so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.