Full twenty minutes did that young lady stand there unsolicited, and chat with David Dodd in the kindest, sweetest, most amicable way imaginable.
She little knew she had an auditor—a female auditor, keen as a lynx.
All this day Reginald George Bazalgette, Esq., might have been defined “a pest in search of a playmate.” Tom had got a holiday. Lucy only came out of her workshop to be seized by Mr. Fountain. David, who was waiting in the garden for Lucy, begged Reginald to excuse him for once. The young gentleman had recourse as a pis aller to his mamma. He invaded her bedroom, and besought her piteously to play at battledoor. That lady, sighing deeply at being taken from her dress, consented. Her soul not being in it, she played very badly. Her cub did not fail to tell her so. “Why, I can keep up a hundred with Mr. Dodd,” said he.
“Oh, we all know Mr. Dodd is perfection,” said the lady with a sneer. She was piqued with David. He had gone and left her in a brutal way, to make his apologies to Lucy.
“No, he is not,” said Reginald. “I have found him out. He is as unjust as the rest of them.”
“Dear me! and, pray, what has he done?”
“I will tell you, mamma, if you will promise not to tell papa, because he told me not to listen, and I didn't listen, mamma, because, you know, a gentleman always keeps his word; but they talked so loud the words would come into my ear; I could not keep them out. Mamma, are there any naughty ladies here?”
“No, my dear.”
“Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?”
Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished.