“Now, James!” began the lady in protestation.
“Now, auntie, you know you’d eat a whole cucumber on the sly, if you had the chance.”
“No, no, my dear; that is too bad. I confess that I do like cucumber, but not to that extent.”
“Well, Naomi, I hope you are ready for plenty of boating, now you have come down,” said Scarlett. “We must brown you a bit; you are too fair.—Isn’t she, Jack?”
“Not a bit,” said the doctor, who was enjoying his salmon. “A lady can’t be too fair.”
Aunt Sophia looked at him sharply; but Jack Scales’s eyes had not travelled in the direction of Naomi, and when he raised them to meet Aunt Sophia’s, there was a frank ingenuous look in them that disarmed a disposition on the lady’s part to set up her feathers and defend her niece.
“I think young ladies ought to be fair and pretty; don’t you, ma’am?”
“Ye-es; in reason,” said Aunt Sophia, bridling slightly.
“I side with you, Jack,” said their host, with a tender look at his wife.
“Yes,” said Prayle slowly; “one naturally expects a lady to be beautiful; but, alas! how soon does beauty fade.”