CHAPTER XVIII
"Whom would you like to invite here for the shooting?" asks Marmaduke, at breakfast, to my consternation. "I suppose we had better fill the house?"
"Oh, 'Duke," I cry, in terror, "must you do that? And must I entertain them all?"
"I suppose so," replies he, laughing; "though I dare say if you will let them alone they will entertain themselves. If you get a good many men and women together they generally contrive to work out their own amusement."
"I have seen so few people in my life," I say, desperately, "and none of them grand people. That is, lords, I mean, and that. I shall be frightened out of my life."
"My acquaintance with lords is not so extensive as you seem to imagine. I know a few other people. We will limit the lords, if you wish to."
"Baronets and very rich people are just as bad."
"Nonsense, darling! I will be here to help you if they grow very dangerous, and get altogether beyond control."
"Oh, that is all very well," I say, feeling inclined to cry, "but you will be out shooting all day, and I will be left at home to speak to them. I don't mind the men so much, but the women will be dreadful."
This last sentence appears to afford Marmaduke the liveliest amusement. He laughs until I begin to feel really hurt at his want of sympathy.