‘That is the name!’ cried Violet, enchanted. ‘Have you seen it?’
‘I saw Lord St. Erme buy it.’
‘Do you know Lord St. Erme?’ said Violet, rather awe-struck.
‘I used to meet him in Italy.’
‘We wish so much that he would come home. We do so want to see a poet.’
John smiled. ‘Is he never at home?’
‘O, no, he has never been at Wrangerton since his father died, twelve years ago. He does not like the place, so he only comes to London when he is in England, and papa goes up to meet him on business, but he is too poetical to attend to it.’
‘I should guess that.’
‘I have done wrong, said Violet, checking herself; ‘I should not have said that. Mamma told us that we ought never to chatter about his concerns. Will you, please, not remember that I said it?’
As far as the outer world is concerned, I certainly will not,’ said John kindly. ‘You cannot too early learn discretion. So that picture is at Wrangerton?’