‘Oh, mamma! Guy won’t go.’
‘Guy! is anything the matter?’
‘Nothing, thank you, only idleness.’
‘This will never do. You really must go, Guy.’
‘Indeed! I think not. Pray don’t order me, Mrs. Edmonstone.’
‘What o’clock is it, Amy? Past ten! Papa will be in despair! What is to be done? How long do you take to dress, Guy?’
‘Not under an hour,’ said Guy, smiling.
‘Nonsense! But if there was time I should certainly send you. Self-discipline may be carried too far, Guy. But now it can’t be helped—I don’t know how to keep papa waiting any longer. Laura, what shall I do?’
‘Let me go to Charles,’ answered Guy. ‘Perhaps I can read him to sleep.’
‘Thank you; but don’t talk, or he will be too excited. Reading would be the very thing! It will be a pretty story to tell every one who asks for you that I have left you to nurse my son!’