“No, no; that would never do,” said Norman. “Do you think Ernescliffe’s a man that would marry a wife for her father to maintain her?”
“Why, papa would like it very much. He is not a mercenary father in a book.”
“Hey! what’s that?” said a voice Ethel little expected. “Contraband talk at contraband times? What’s this!”
“Did you hear, papa?” said Ethel, looking down.
“Only your last words, as I came up to ask Norman what he had done with my pocket-book. Mind, I ask no impertinent questions; but, if you have no objection, I should like to know what gained me the honour of that compliment.”
“Norman?” said Ethel interrogatively, and blushing in emulation of her brother, who was crimson.
“I’ll find it,” said he, rushing off with a sort of nod and sign, that conveyed to Ethel that there was no help for it.
So, with much confusion, she whispered into her papa’s ear that Norman had been telling her something he guessed about Mr. Ernescliffe.
Her father at first smiled, a pleased amused smile. “Ah! ha! so Master June has his eyes and ears open, has he? A fine bit of gossip to regale you with on his return!”
“He told me to say not one word,” said Ethel.