"Yes."
A pause, after which Mr. Chesney says, meekly:
"I suppose you would not take me as a second son?"
"I think not," says Lilian, laughing; "you are much too important a person and far too old to be either petted or scolded."
"That is very hard lines, isn't it? You might say anything you liked to me, and I am almost positive I should not resent it. And if you will be kind enough to turn your eyes on me once more, I think you will acknowledge I am not so very old."
"Too old for me to take in hand. I doubt you would be an unruly member,—a mauvais sujet,—a disgrace to my teaching. I should lose caste. At dinner I saw you frown, and frowns,"—with a coquettishly plaintive sigh—"frighten me!"
"Do you imagine me brutal enough to frown upon my mother?—and such a mother?"
"Nevertheless, I cannot undertake your reformation. You should remember you are scarcely in my good books. Are you not a usurper in my eyes? Have you not stolen from me my beloved Park?"
"Ah! true. But you can have it back again, you know," returns he, in a low tone, half jest, though there is a faint under-current—that is almost earnestness—running through it.
At this moment Lady Chetwoode saves Lilian the embarrassment of a reply.