'O Edgar!' remonstrated Wilmet.
'Well, Mettie, if even our spiritual pastors will be snobs, one must have the relief of expressing one's opinion now and then.'
'I should say it was better to keep any such fact out of one's mind as much as might be,' said Mr. Audley, feeling himself unable to deny what had been so broadly expressed.
'And we, at any rate, had better drop talking of snobs,' said Felix.
'Hollo, Felix! I am sure you for one would not be a snob if you had turned chimney-sweeper, and let Tom Underwood nail me to his office; he'll never make one of me!'
'I trust so,' said Felix; 'but it is not the way to keep from it to throw about the word at other folks.'
'What's that?' cried Alda. 'Really, that boy must be falling upon some of them.'
It was Lance, in great deshabille, who, opening a crack of the door, called cautiously, 'Wilmet, please come here.'
Wilmet hastily obeyed, saying anxiously, as the door was shut, 'Never mind, dear Lance, he's in a horrid mood; but do bear it, and not make Felix more in a rage.'
'Bosh about Ful,' said Lance unceremoniously. 'It is Cherry; she is crying so upstairs, and Clem and I can't get a word out of her.'