The doctor glanced across the table at his quiet lady-like daughter, and there was such a curious twinkle in his eye that she turned aside so as to keep her countenance, and began talking to Lady Danby about parish work, the poor, and an entertainment to be given at the workhouse.
Dr Grayson and his daughter were dining at Cedars House that evening, greatly to the doctor’s annoyance, for he preferred home.
“But it would be uncivil not to go,” said Miss Grayson, who had kept her father’s house almost from a child. So they went.
“Well, doctor,” said Sir James, who was a comfortable specimen of the easy-going country baronet and magistrate, “you keep to your opinion, and I’ll keep to mine.”
“I will,” said the doctor; “and in two years’ time I shall publish my book with the result of my long studies of the question. I say, sir, that a boy’s a boy.”
“Oh yes, we all agree to that, doctor,” said Lady Danby sweetly. “Edgar, my dear, I’m sure you’ve had enough.”
“Pa, mayn’t I have half a glass of Madeira!”
“Now, my dear boy, you have had some.”
“But that was such a teeny weeny drop, ma. That glass is so thick.”
“For goodness’ sake, Maria, give him some wine, and keep him quiet,” cried Sir James. “Don’t you hear that Dr Grayson and I are discussing a point in philosophy!”