“Well, granny, so he’s really coming,” said Cheriton cheerfully, as he sat down opposite to her.
“Oh, your father’s been here,” said Mrs Lester. “We’ll have to do with him for a year, I suppose.”
“Oh, we’ll get on with him somehow. I mean to strike up a friendship,” returned Cherry boldly.
“You’ll be very soft if you do. Your father and I, remember, know what these Spaniards are like; they’re a bad lot—a bad lot.”
“Well, my father ought to know—certainly! But you see he has told us so little about them.”
“I have told my son that I think he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to have him home—just when you lads are all growing up, and ready to learn all the tricks he can teach you.”
“What tricks?” said Cheriton, feeling much insulted by the suggestion.
“D’ye think I’m going to teach you beforehand?”
“I assure you, granny,” said Cheriton impressively, “that the tricks I see at Oxford are such that it would be impossible for Alvar to beat them.”
“And what have you been up to now?” said his grandmother sharply.