Dora gave a hopeless little sigh: she wondered if Uncle Alfred could have seen the humorous aspect of this; personally she could not.
“It was no question of sticking up for him,” she said. “It was all chaff, fun.”
Claude got up, with his chin a good deal protruded.
“Ah, fun is all very well in its right place,” he said, “and I’m sure no one likes a joke more than me. But there are certain things one should hold exempt from one’s fun——”
Dora tried the humorous plan recommended by Uncle Alfred.
“Darling, I hope you don’t consider yourself exempt,” she said. “I am laughing at you now. You are ridiculous, dear. You take things heavily, and I do too. We must try not to. So I hereby give you leave to laugh at mother and Austell as much as you like—and me.”
“Dora, I am serious,” he said.
“I know; that is just the trouble,” she said, still lightly.
Claude’s face darkened.
“Well, it’s a trouble you must learn to put up with,” he said rather sharply. “I daresay I’m old-fashioned: you may call me what you like. But I ask you to respect my father. I daresay he and the mater seem to you ridiculous at times. If they do, I ask you to keep your humorous observations to yourself. I hate speaking like this, but I am obliged to.”