“Hadn’t you better let Edward do that, dear?” said Miss Matilda, with a pained expression of countenance, as she played pat-a-cake once more with her handkerchief.
“They do make the mustard so horribly thin,” said Lady Rea. “Finetta, give papa some of the pie.”
Fin looked mischievously across at her sister, and then cut a large portion of the patty, enough to have called forth an angry remonstrance at another time; but though Miss Matilda looked perfectly horrified, Sir Hampton was too angry and absorbed to notice it; he only went on eating.
“Well, Finetta, dear,” said Lady Rea, “what’s the grand news?”
“Seen the sailor, ma, dear; been introduced to him. Such a nice fellow.”
“Seen whom?” said Lady Rea, making a last scrape at the mustardy cloth.
“Mr Trevor, ma; met him at old Mrs Trelyan’s. Such fun.”
“My dear Finetta,” began Miss Matilda; but a shot fired by Sir Hampton stopped her in dismay.
“Er-rum—what’s that?” he asked. “Have you met that person?”
“What person, papa?” said Finetta. “That—that Penreife man—that Trevor, or whatever his name is?”