“Bless the man!” said Mrs Doctor, “just as if that had anything to do with his character for honesty and truth. Now look there, Henry, really I cannot bear it much longer. That girl’s conduct is scandalous?”
“What, Grey Stuart’s?”
“No; absurd! Helen Perowne’s. Why the young men all seem to be mad.”
“Moths round a candle,” said the doctor. “There, don’t worry yourself, my dear, it’s only her way. She loves admiration, and young fellows admire her, so it suits both sides.”
“But I don’t like a young lady who is under our charge to be so fond of admiration.”
“Oh, there’s no harm in her. She is one of those ladies who seem to have been born to exact attention; and as there are plenty ready to pay toll, why, what does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal,” said the little lady, indignantly; “and no good will come of it. One day she is trying to lead Mr Harley at her heels like a lapdog; the next day it is Captain Lindley; the next, Mr Adjutant Morris; then Lieutenant Barlow. Why, she was making eyes at Captain Pennelle yesterday at dinner. I declare the girl seems quite to infatuate the men, and you see if trouble does not come of it.”
“Oh, tut! tut! Nonsense, my dear, what trouble should come?”
“Quarrels, and duels, and that sort of thing.”
“Men don’t fight duels now, my dear. Oh, no, don’t you be uneasy. We shall soon be at Sindang now, and then we can hand your incubus over to papa Perowne, and be free of it all.”