“Charles is not such a muff as to be afraid of a monkey!” declared Theodore. “Oh, Mama, pray tell Addy we may keep him.
“Indeed, Jacko will not bite anyone!” Sophy said. “I have had him with me for close on a week, and he is the gentlest creature! You will not banish him, Miss — Miss Addy? No, I know that is wrong!”
“Miss Adderbury, but we always call her Addy!” Cecilia explained.
“How do you do?” Sophy said, holding out her hand. “Forgive me! It was impertinent, but I did not know! Do permit the children to keep poor Jacko!”
Between her dismay at having a monkey thrust upon her and her desire to please this glowing girl, who smiled so kindly down at her and extended her hand with such frank good nature, Miss Adderbury lost herself in a morass of half-sentences. Lady Ombersley said that they must ask Charles, a remark which was at once interpreted as permission to take Jacko up to the schoolroom at once, none of the children thinking so poorly of their brother as to believe that he would raise the least objection to their new pet. Sophy was then led up to the Blue Saloon, where she at once cast her sables onto a chair, unbuttoned her pelisse, and tossed off her modish hat. Her aunt, fondly drawing her down to sit beside her on the sofa, asked her if she were tired from the long journey, and if she would like to take some refreshment.
“No, indeed! Thank you, but I am never tired, and although it was a trifle tedious, I could not count it as a journey!” Sophy replied. “I should have been with you this morning, only that I was obliged to go first to Merton.”
“Go first to Merton?” echoed Lady Ombersley. “But why, my love? Have you acquaintances there?”
“No, no, but Sir Horace particularly desired it!”
“My dear, do you always call you papa Sir Horace?” asked Lady Ombersley.
The gray eyes began to dance again. “No, if he makes me very cross I call him Papa!” Sophy said. “It is of all things what he most dislikes! Poor angel, it is a great deal too bad that he should be saddled with such a maypole for a daughter, and no one could expect him to bear it!” She perceived that her aunt was looking a little shocked, and added, with her disconcerting frankness, “You don’t like that. I am so sorry, but indeed he is a delightful parent, and I love him dearly! But it is one of his maxims, you know, that one should never allow one’s partiality to blind one to a person’s defects.”