‘Beware of putting me forward,’ said Claude, rising, and, as he leant against the chimney-piece, looking down from his height of six feet three, with a patronising air upon his cousin, ‘I shall be taken for the hero, and you for my little brother.’
‘I wish I was,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘it would be much better fun. I should escape the speechifying, the worst part of it.’
‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘for one whose speeches will be scraps of three words each, strung together with the burthen of the apprentices’ song, Radara tadara, tandore.’
‘Radaratade,’ said the Marquis, laughing. ‘By the bye, if Eleanor and Frank Hawkesworth manage well, they may be here in time.’
‘Because they are so devoted to gaiety?’ said Claude. ‘You will say next that William is coming from Canada, on purpose.’
‘That tall captain!’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘He used to be a very awful person.’
‘Ah! he used to keep the spoilt Marquis in order,’ said Claude.
‘To say nothing of the spoilt Claude,’ returned Lord Rotherwood.
‘Claude never was spoilt,’ said Lily.
‘It was not Eleanor’s way,’ said Emily.