Wilfred’s defence as to universal use in the family was inaudible, and he was allowed to slouch away.
Gillian had fled to her mother, entreating her to explain to her father that such jests were abhorrent to her.
‘But you know, mamma, if I was cross and dignified, Wilfred would enjoy it all the more, and be ten times worse.’
‘Quite true, my dear. Papa will understand; but we are sorry to hear that nickname.
‘It was an old Royal Wardour name, mamma. Harry and Claude both used it, and—oh, lots of the young officers!’
‘That does not make it more becoming in you.’
‘N—no. But oh, mamma, he was very kind to-day! But I do wish it had been anybody else!’
And her colour rose so as to startle her mother.
‘Why, my dear, I thought you would have been glad that a stranger did not find you in that plight!’
‘But it makes it all the worse. He does beset us, mamma; and it is hard on me, after all the other nonsense!’