Mr. Westruther’s broad shoulders shook. “He offends your sense of the respectable, coz? Alas! Now, I find him so amusing! But I am not, of course, one of the stiff Standens.”
“No, and you ain’t engaged to Kit!” retorted Freddy, nettled.
“Very true. Are you?” said Jack sweetly.
“Seems to me,” said Freddy, recovering after a moment from the effect of this undoubted doubler, “that it’s you who are disguised!”
He thought it prudent to say no more to his cousin, but to pursue his own investigations. These led him in due course to seek counsel of his father, whom he met one day in St. James’s Street, and who exhibited great surprise at seeing him, saying that he had supposed him to have gone out of town again. But this shaft went wide. Freddy eyed his satirical parent in mild bewilderment, and said reasonably; “Can’t have thought that, sir! Dash it, met you at Meg’s two nights ago!”
Lord Legerwood sighed. “You have your own armour, have you not, Frederick? Of course, I should have known better!”
“Offended you, sir?” asked Freddy intelligently.
“Not at all. How came such an idea as that into your head?”
“Notice more than you think,” said Freddy, with simple pride. “Never call me Frederick except when I’ve vexed you!”
“Almost you encourage me to look forward to a brilliant career for you!” said his lordship, impressed.