“Nonsense, papa, dear,” said Glynne quietly. “You ought to go and apologise. If you don’t, Uncle James will leave us.”
“Let him.”
“And then you will be very much put out and grieved.”
“And a good job too. I mean a good job if he’d leave, for then we should have peace in the place.”
“Now, papa!”
“I tell you I’d be very glad of it; a confounded peppery old Nero, talking to me as if I were a private under him. Bully me, indeed! I won’t stand it. There!”
“Papa, dear, go upstairs and apologise to Uncle James.”
“I won’t, Glynne. There’s an end of it now. Just because he can’t have everything his own way. He has never forgiven me for being the eldest son and taking the baronetcy. Was it my fault that I was born first?”
“Now, papa, dear, that’s talking at random; I don’t believe Uncle James ever envied you for having the title.”
“Then he shouldn’t act as if he did. Confound him!”