"May I go, too, aunt?" she repeated.
"Why, of course!" interposed a blasé, cynical-appearing young man who had just emerged from the cabin. "Don't know where she wants to go, or what she wants to do; but don't say she can't; really you mustn't, now."
"Well, since you insist on spoiling her, Lord Ronsdale--"
He twisted a blond mustache which adorned a handsome face that bore many marks of what is called experience of the world. "Couldn't do that! Besides, Jocelyn and I are great chums, don't you know. We're going to be married some day when she grows up."
"Are we?" said the child. "The man I marry must be very big and strong, and must not have light hair."
Lord Ronsdale laughed tolerantly.
"Plenty of time for you to change your mind, don't you know. Meanwhile, I'll not despair. Faint heart, and so on. But," turning to Sir Charles, "where is it she 'wants to go?'"
"To see the convicts."
"Convicts? Ah!" He spoke rather more quickly than usual, with accent sharper.
"You didn't know who your neighbors were going to be when you decided so suddenly to accompany us?"