“I know nothing of the old countrified animosities and gossipings, which you have so heartily adopted,” replied Cecil, proudly. “Firstly, I ignore them as beneath me; secondly, I sacrifice them all to a great cause. If Miss Bowater does not like my guests, let her stay away.”
Here Mrs. Duncombe stood on the step, crying out, “Well, Cecil, how have you sped with Mrs. Bungay?”
“Horrid woman!” and no more was heard, as Cecil entered Mr. Pettitt’s establishment.
“That might be echoed,” said Tom, who was boiling over at the speech to his sister. “I knew that ape was an intolerable little prig of a peacock, but I didn’t think she could be such a brute to you, Rosie! Is she often like that, and does your parson stand such treatment of you?”
“Nonsense, Tom!” said Rosamond; “it doesn’t often happen, and breaks no bones when it does. It’s only the ignorance of the woman, and small blame to her—as Mrs. M’Kinnon said when Corporal Sims’s wife threw the red herring’s tail at her!”
“But does Julius stand it?” repeated Tom, fiercely, as if hesitating whether to call out Julius or Mrs. Charnock Poynsett.
“Don’t be so ridiculous, Tom! I’d rather stand a whole shower of red herrings’ tails at once than bother Julius about his brother’s wife. How would you and Terry like it, if your wives took to squabbling, and setting you together by the ears? I was demented enough to try it once, but I soon saw it was worse than anything.”
“What? He took her part?”
“No such thing! Hold your tongue, Tommy, and don’t talk of married folk till you’re one yourself!”
“Papa never meant it,” repeated the indignant Tom. “I’ve a great mind to write and tell him how you are served!”