“And what’s that Mariolatry?”
“Mariately,” said Babie. “An Indian goddess. It is the ‘Curse of Kehama,’ and wonderfully noble.”
“Moore or Browning?”
“For shame, Jock!” cried the girl. “I thought you did know more than examination cram.”
“It is the advantage of having no Mudie boxes,” said his mother. “We are taking up our Southey.”
“And, Armie, how are you?”
“My cough is better, thank you,” was the languid answer. “Only they won’t let me go beyond the terrace.”
“For don’t I know,” said his mother, “that if once I let you out, I should find you croaking at a choir practice at Woodside?”
Then, after ordering a refection for the traveller, came the question what he had been doing.
“Dining with Mr. Ogilvie. It is quite a new sensation to find oneself on a level with the Ogre of one’s youth, and prove him a human mortal after all.”