“Yes, my darling,” replied the lady, with a sigh and another affectionate beam upon the plump-looking darling intent upon the game pie. “The calls made upon my time are rather heavy. By and by, when you have grown up, I hope you will be able to help me.”
“Why, of course I will, auntie. Didn’t I want to write that answer for you yesterday?”
“Um—er—yes, my dear; but we must wait a little first. Your writing is not quite what I should like to see.”
“No, auntie; it is a bit shaky yet. We don’t go in for writing much at Loamborough; we leave that to the Board School cads.”
“And I should like you to be a little more careful over your spelling.”
“Oh, Mullins, M.A., says that’ll all come right, auntie, when we’ve quite done with our classics.”
“I hope so, my darling, and then you shall be my private secretary. I did hope at one time that I should win over your uncle to a love for my pursuits. But alas!”
“Don’t seem in uncle’s way much, auntie, but he means right, uncle does. You wait till he’s in the House—he’ll make some of ’em sit up.”
“I hope not, my dear child. I rather trust to his brother members leading him into a better way.”
“Ah, I don’t think you ought to expect that, auntie,” said the “dear boy,” using his serviette to remove the high-water mark of coffee from an incipient moustache. “They go in for all-night sittings, you know.”