“Yes, my dear, but only on emergencies, and for their country’s good.”
“Walker!” said the “dear boy,” softly.
“I used to think at one time that I should be able to wean him from his bad habit of lying in bed so late. If he would only follow your example of getting up early enough for a long walk or ride before breakfast!”
“Nicest part of the day, auntie.”
“Yes, my dear.”
Lady Lisle sighed, and went on eating crumblets of dry toast and sipping her tea, as she opened and examined a pile of letters, many of which had a very charitable-institution-like look about them; and Sydney Smithers, her nephew, toiled pleasantly on at taking in stores, till his aunt sighed, glanced at the door, then at the clock, and then at her nephew.
“Have you finished, Syd, my dear?”
“Yes, auntie, quite.”
“Ha!” sighed the lady, gathering up her letters, the boy springing up to assist her in carrying them to the side-table in the embayed window of the handsome room. “You will, I know, take advantage of your being with us, my dear, to avoid those of your poor dear uncle’s habits which your own good sense will teach you are not right.”
“Oh, of course, auntie dear.”