“That we’re very glad to see you, Mr Canninge, sir; and what will you take!”
“Nothing but courteous words, Mr Burge, after your sister’s compliment. She says that I am really about the nicest gentleman she ever met.”
“And she means it too, sir. She never says anything she does not mean. She’s done nothing but talk ever since about the way you pleased those children, sir, at the feast.”
“Well, poor little things, why shouldn’t we try and give them a treat now and then—a real treat! I like to see them work hard at school, and work hard when they play, not taken out to be marched up and down, and disciplined, and made miserable. Miss Thorne, you must forgive me if I am going against your views.”
“Indeed, you are not,” replied Hazel. “I am very new and inexperienced over teaching, but I thoroughly believe in hearty, wholesome play being a necessary part of a child’s education.”
“Hear, hear! Hee-ar!—hee-ar!—hee-ar!” cried Mr William Forth Burge, beating the drawing-room table loudly with a book.
“I quite agree with Miss Thorne there,” said Canninge; “and as to what I did the other day—well, really, I enjoyed it as much as the children.”
“So did I, Mr Canninge, sir,” cried Burge. “It was a regular treat, sir; and they shall have another and a better feast next year, please God I live.”
“No, no, fair-play’s a jewel, Burge,” said Canninge heartily. “None of your haughty millionaire assumption.”
Burge stared.