Guy, being used to Miss Corbin's plain speaking, roared with laughter at this flattering description, but Alizon felt indignant at her good-looking, kind-hearted husband being thus decried, and spoke out boldly.
"I don't think so at all."
"That's a very good thing--for Guy," said the old dame grimly. "Don't take up the cudgels on your husband's account, my dear, he's big enough to look after himself. After all, he has a better heart than Eustace, and he doesn't write poetry, which is a blessing. We must always be thankful for small mercies."
Minnie felt rather indignant at this indirect shaft, but stood too much in awe of Miss Corbin to venture a remonstrance, so after a pause, during which Aunt Jelly eyed the trio like an elderly beldame of romance, Lady Errington continued the conversation.
"Well, we must allow some latitude to genius."
"Genius!" scoffed Aunt Jelly, picking up a stitch she had dropped. "My dear, in my young days every farthing rush-light did not call itself the sun. Eustace is clever in a nasty find-faulty way, I admit, but he's not a genius. He ought to give up writing abusive books, and marry, but there--if he did he'd worry the best woman that ever breathed into her grave."
"He sings beautifully, at all events," said Lady Errington, feeling rather nonplussed as to how to satisfy this contradictory woman.
"God bless my soul, child I don't go through a list of my nephew's virtues. I know them already, and from the best authority--himself. When he returns from this tree place--what do you call it?--Cyprus--yes, I knew it had something to do with a tree. Well, when he returns, I hope he'll be improved--there's room for it, great room. Guy, when do you go down to Denfield?"
"To-morrow, aunt."
"That's sensible. Errington Hall needs a master's eyes. I don't believe in absenteeism myself. If I had my way--which I'm not likely to have, because it's too sensible--I'd pack all landlords back to their estates in the country instead of letting them waste their money in London."