‘Give me the letter. Oh, you gave me such a turn!’ said Mrs. Morton, sinking into a chair.
‘What’s the row?’ said another voice, as a sturdy bright-eyed boy, between the ages of his sisters, came bouncing in. ‘I say, I want my grub—and be quick!’
‘Oh, Herbert, my dear boy,’ and his mother
hugged him, ‘your uncle is a lord, and you’ll be one one of these days.’
‘I say, don’t lug a man’s head off. Who has been making a fool of you?’
‘Uncle Frank is Lord Northmoor,’ said Ida impressively.
‘I say, that’s a good one!’ and Herbert threw himself into a chair in fits of laughter.
‘It is quite true, Herbert,’ said his mother. ‘Here is the letter.’
A bell rang sharply.
‘Bless me! I shall not hear much more of that bell, I hope. Run up, Conny, and say Mrs. Leeson’s lunch will be up in a moment, but we were hindered by unexpected news,’ said Mrs. Morton, bustling into the kitchen. ‘Oh dear! one doesn’t know where one is.’