Anna and her aunt were much concerned at what was said of Adrian, and still more at the boastful account that he seemed to have given; but then something, as Mrs. Grinstead observed, must be allowed for the reporter’s satisfaction in having interviewed a live baronet. Each of the parties concerned had one hero, and if the Merrifields’ was Fergus, to their own great surprise and satisfaction, Aunt Cherry was very happy over her own especial boy, Gerald, and certainly it was an easier task than to accept “the youthful baronet” at his own valuation or that of the reporter.
Mrs. Grinstead considered whether to try to make him less conceited about it, and show him his want of truth. She consulted his uncle about it, showing the newspaper, and telling, and causing Gerald to tell, the history of the accident, which Clement had not been fit to hear all the day before.
He was still in bed, but quite ready to attend to anything, and he laughed over the account, which she illustrated by the discoveries she had made from the united witnesses.
“And is it not delightful to see for once what Gerald really is?” she said.
“Yes, he seems to have behaved gallantly,” said his uncle; “and I won’t say just what might have been expected.”
“One does expect something of an Underwood,” she said.
“Little Merrifield too, who saw the danger coming, deserves more honour than he seems to have taken to himself.”
“Yes, he accepted severity from that stern father of his, who seems very sorry for it now. It is curious how those boys’ blood comes out in the matter—chasser de race.”
“You must allow something for breeding. Fergus had not been the idol of a mother and sisters, and Gerald remembered his father in danger.”
“Oh, I can never be glad enough that he has that remembrance of him! How like him he grows! That unconscious imitation is so curious.”