“I wouldn’t have such small feet,” she said; “I shouldn’t feel secure of my understanding.”
“Mrs. Tallboys would not change with you, Gussie,” said Captain Duncombe. “I’d back her any day—”
“What odds will you take, Captain—”
But Mrs. Duncombe broke in. “Bless me, if there aren’t those little dogs of mine! Lena Vivian does spoil them. Send them home, for pity’s sake, Bob.”
“Poor little kids, they are doing no harm.”
“We shall have them tumbling in, and no end of a row! I can’t stand a swarm of children after me, and they are making a perfect victim of Lena. Send them home, Bob, or I shall have to do it.”
The Captain obeyed somewhat ruefully. “Come, my lads, Bessie says you must go home, and leave Miss Vivian in peace.”
“O, Bob, please let us stay; Lena is taking care of us—”
“Indeed I like nothing so well,” protested Lenore; but the Captain murmured something about higher powers, and cheerfully saying he would give the boys a run, took each by an unwilling hand, and raced them into a state of frightened jollity by a short cut, by which he was able to dispose of them in the drag.
The Professor, meanwhile, devoted himself to Mrs. Charnock Poynsett, took her chair for a whirl on the ice; described American sleighing parties; talked of his tour in Europe. He was really a clever, observant man, and Cecil had not had any one to talk Italy to her for a long time past, and responded with all her full precision. The Professor might speak a little through his nose, but she had seldom met any one more polite and accomplished.