“You’ll take us out, pa, dear?” said Fin, getting her cheek against his.
“No, no! well, there, yes,” said Sir Hampton; and then, looking like a half-mollified bull, he submitted to having his cheeks patted, and his stiff cravat untied and retied by the busy fingers of his pet child.
“In half an hour, dad?”
“Yes, yes; only don’t bother. Er-rum!” he ejaculated, as Fin flew to the bell, “tell them to bring round the waggonette.”
Sir Hampton rose and left the room, firing a shot as he crossed the hall. Then the footman came in to receive his orders, and directly after Lady Rea looked admiringly across at her daughter.
“Ah, Fin, my dear, I wish I could manage your papa as you do.”
“Really, Frances,” said Miss Matilda, bridling up, “I don’t think that is a proper way for you to speak respecting a parent to a child.”
Poor downright Lady Rea looked troubled and distressed.
“Really, Matty,” she began.
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Fin, coming to the rescue. “It’s because you don’t understand, Aunt Matty; only married people do. Why don’t you marry Mr Mervyn?”