Mr. Bertram Tallant nodded gloomily, and pulled up his sleeves a trifle. “You don’t want him in here; shall I turn him out?” he enquired.
“Ho!” cried Harry, leaping to his feet, and squaring up to his senior in great good-humour. “A mill!”
“Not in here!” shrieked his sisters with one accustomed voice.
But as they had no expectation of being attended to, each damsel made a dive to snatch her own particular property out of harm’s way. This was just as well, since the room, besides being small, was crowded with knick-knacks. The brothers struggled and swayed together for a brief minute, or two, but since Harry, though a lusty lad, was no match for Bertram, he was very soon thrust outside the room, and the door slammed against him. After dealing the scarred panels a few kicks, and threatening his senior with gruesome reprisals, he took himself off, whistling loudly through the convenient gap occasioned by the loss of one of his front teeth; and Bertram was able to remove his shoulders from the door, and to straighten his cravat.
“Well, you are to go,” he informed Arabella. “I wish I had a rich godmother, that’s all! Much old Mrs. Calne ever did for me, except to give me a devilish book called the Christian Comforter, or some such thing, which was enough to send a fellow to the dogs directly!”
“I must say, I think it was excessively shabby of her,” agreed Margaret. “Even Papa said that if she had thought you had a taste for such literature, she might have supposed that you would find it upon his shelves.”
“Well, my father knows I have no turn in that direction, and this I will say for him, he don’t expect it of me,” said Bertram handsomely. “He may be devilish straitlaced, and full of old fashioned notions, but he’s a right one at heart, and don’t plague one with a pack of humbug.”
“Yes, yes!” said Arabella impatiently, “but does he know of this letter? Will he let me go?”
“I fancy he don’t like it above half, but he said he could not stand in your way, and must trust to your conducting yourself in Society with propriety, and not allowing your head to be turned by frivolity and admiration. And as to that,” Bertram added, with brotherly candour, “I don’t suppose they will think you anything out of the way amongst all the nobs, so there’s precious little chance of its happening.”
“No, I am sure they will not,” said Arabella. “But tell me the whole! What did Lady Bridlington say in her letter?”