"My goodness! what a long word," says Dicky Browne, who is now eating bread and butter, because he has finished the cake. "Does it mean anything edible? Because if so, I don't quite follow you; no one could masticate Julia!"
"I hope she will be in a good temper when she comes," says Roger. "Last time she terrified us all into fits."
"If the children have behaved nicely in the train, and if anyone has taken any notice of her, she will be charming," says Dulce, moodily. "If not, she will be—the other thing."
"And the other thing isn't nice," puts in Dicky, in his pleasantest tone.
"Then what shall we do with her just at first?" says Miss Blount, who is evidently in fear of breakers ahead.
"Look here," says Mr. Browne, who couldn't hold his tongue to save his life, "I'll tell you the first thing to say to any fellow who arrives at your house. Don't go worrying him about the health of his sister, and his cousins, and his aunts, but just ask him if he will have a B. and S. He will, you know—and—and there you are. He won't forget it to you afterwards."
Sir Mark laughs. Portia unfurls her fan, and smiles faintly behind it.
"Julia isn't a fellow, and I'm sure she wouldn't like brandy," says Dulce, who is feeling a little hopeless as she contemplates the coming of this new guest.
"The more fool she," says Dicky. "Try Madeira, then. She has a tenderness for Madeira; and tell her her hat is lovely. That'll fetch her."
"Come and sit here, Dicky," says Portia, motioning to the footstool near her. "Your advice is not to be surpassed."