“One submits to one’s fate,” said Gerald, “hoping that virtue may be its own reward, as it is in the matter of ‘The Inspector’s Tour’, which the ‘Censor’ accepts, really enthusiastically for a paper, though the Mouse-trap would have found it—what shall I say?—a weasel in their snare.”
“Does it indeed?” cried Anna, delighted. “I saw there was a letter by this last post.”
“Aye—invites more from the same pen,” he replied lazily.
“Too much of weasel for the ‘Pursuivant’ even?” said Geraldine.
“Yes,” said Lance; “these young things are apt to tear our old traps and flags to pieces. By the bye, who is this Captain Armytage, who happily will limit Purser Briggs to ‘We split, we split, we split,’ or something analogous?”
“I believe,” said Gerald, “that he joined the Wills-of-the-Wisp, that company which was got up by Sir Lewis Willingham, and played at Devereux Castle a year or two ago. Some one told me they were wonderfully effective for amateurs.”
“That explains the acquaintance with Lady Merrifield,” said Mrs. Grinstead.
“Oh, yes,” said Anna. “Mysie told me all about it; and how Mr. David Merrifield married the nicest of them all, and how much they liked this Captain Armytage.”
“Was not Mysie there when he arrived?”
“No, she was gone to see the Henderson children, but Gillian looked a whole sheaf of daggers at him. You know what black brows Gillian has, and she drew them down like thunder,” and Anna imitated as well as her fair open brows would permit, “turning as red as fire all the time.”