“Well, you see, Mrs Berry was Rue Portlock, and Cyril has been paying attentions to her sister Sage.”
“Rue? Sage?”
“Yes; rum idea. Two such pretty girls. I call ’em the sweet herbs. Quaint idea of their father.”
“And Cyril is paying attentions to one of them?”
“Yes; little Sage. She is the Lawford schoolmistress, and engaged to some one else.”
“Humph! Better than paying attentions to a married lady, as his brother does.”
“Oh, bless him, he is not perfect. Master Cyril has an affair on at the ford just outside Lawford. There is a pretty wheelwright’s wife—no, hang it, I mean the pretty wife of a wheelwright there. She used to be Julia’s and Cynthia’s maid, you know, and I hear that Master Cyril has been seen hanging about.”
“They seem to be a nice pair,” said Magnus, gruffly.
“Beauties,” said Artingale, sharply. “Hang ’em, they shall have it warmly when once I have got Cynthia away. Of course I have to swallow it all now. There, you see how badly you’re wanted. It’s an unhappy family, and you would be doing a charitable act in giving Julia a good husband.”
“Let her marry Perry-Morton,” said Magnus, changing his position with a weary sigh.