“Surely, Hampton,” exclaimed Aunt Matty, “you will not think of inviting that objectionable person.”
Fin glanced at her sister, whose face was crimson, and Lady Rea looked pained. “Matty, my dear, I think you are wrong. I...”
“Have you got that name down, Lady Rea?” said Sir Hampton.
“No, dear; but I soon will have,” said her ladyship, making her pencil scramble over the tablet.
“Er-rum!” ejaculated Sir Hampton, rising, puffing himself out, and walking slowly up and down the room; “a man in my position is obliged to make sacrifices, and ask people to whom he objects. In the event of my contesting the county such a man as this—er-rum—this—er-rum—Trevor would be useful I thank you, Matty; you mean, er—mean—rum, well. Put his name down, Fanny.”
“I have, my love,” said Lady Rea, beaming at her children.
“Hampton, I protest against this outrage,” cried Aunt Matty, “after the marked way in which he has—”
“Tiny, come and cut some flowers,” said Fin; and her sister gladly beat a retreat, Fin whispering as they went—“Will he ask the little man?”
“Now, Matty,” said Sir Hampton, “have the goodness to proceed; and in future, when you enter upon such subjects, have the kindness to—er-rum—remember that I am not deaf.”
“I say, Hampton, after the marked way in which that ‘seafaring person’ has behaved to Valentina, it is most indiscreet to ask him here.”