"You spoil me," said Sir Billy, audaciously.
"Pooh! You are merely a rascal in the making. I wouldn't hint how we govern your sex, if you were anything but a grub."
The boy laughed complacently. "I'm a very nice grub."
"Very precocious, at all events. You know much more than is good for you. Fanny, you should whip him."
"I haven't the heart or the muscle, my dear. The only safe thing will be to marry a strong man with a bad temper."
"I should jolly well like to see the stepfather who would pitch into me."
"You will, if you don't behave. Isn't that eyebrow a little crooked, Billy?" and she fingered it delicately.
"Don't think so; but you have a smudge of powder on your chin."
"So I have. How horrid! There!" dusting it off. "What a comfort you are to your darling mammy, my own! Kiss me."
Billy brushed her rouge with careful lips, and after a glance to see that he had not blurred the picture, Lady Richardson put away the mirror.