“Robin acquires geography!” My lord smiled gently. “It is the land of my birth. I am come home, enfin. I am Tremaine of Barham.”
“And pray what are we, sir?” inquired Robin, with interest.
“At present, mes enfants, you are Mr and Miss Merriot. I compliment you. It is admirable. I see that you inherit a part of my genius.” He kissed his finger-tips to them. “When I have made all secure you are the Honourable Robin, and the Honourable Prudence Tremaine.”
“Of Barham,” interpolated Prudence.
He looked at her affectionately. “For you, my beautiful Prue, I plan a great marriage,” he informed her magnificently.
“A Royal Prince, belike?” said Prudence, unimpressed.
“I will choose from an older house than this of Hanover,” my lord said grandly. “Have no fear.”
Robin looked at his sister. “My dear, what to do?” he said helplessly.
“Leave all to me!” commanded my lord. “I do not make mistakes.”
“Except in the matter of Royal Princes,” said Robin, with meaning.