“Mr. Oliver! Your father, my dear—your own father! Now guess what it's about, if you can!”
“About—me?”
David nodded his head with great humour.
“Yes, it's about you. A nice character I'm giving you, you may depend!”
“Are you saying that I'm a regular bad lot then?”
“Ah, that's telling!”
“If you were, you wouldn't be far from the mark, if you only knew it. But let's hear what you have said.”
“Nay, come! You don't expect me to let you hear what I've said about you, do you, Missy?”
“Of course I do,” said Missy firmly.
“But that would be queer! Nay, Missy, I couldn't show you this letter, I really couldn't. For one thing, it would either make you conceited or else very indignant with poor me!”