“Bayle is uncommonly late to-night, is he not?” he said.
“He is late like this sometimes,” said Mrs Hallam. “He works very hard amongst the people, and attends parish meetings, where there may be long discussions.”
“Humph, yes, so I suppose. I hope he does some good.”
“Some good?” cried Julia excitedly. “Oh, you don’t know how much!”
“And you do, I suppose,” said Sir Gordon in rather a constrained tone of voice.
“Oh, not a hundredth part!” cried Julia naïvely, “Oh, Sir Gordon, I wish you were half so good a man!”
“Julia!” exclaimed Mrs Hallam.
“Upon my word, young—bless my soul! I!—tut, tut!—hush! hush! Mrs Hallam.”
Sir Gordon began angrily, but his testiness was of a few moments’ duration, and he laughed at first in a forced, half-irritable manner, then more heartily, and ended by becoming quite overcome with mirth, and wiping the tears from his eyes while mother and daughter exchanged glances.
“And here have I been deferential, and treating you, Miss Julie, like a grown-up young lady, while all the time you are only one of those innocent little maidens who say unpleasant truths before elderly people.”