"Gentlemen, my dear child, surely not?"
"Yes, they do."
Miss Hancock said nothing, but sat for a moment in silence gloating over the girl before her. Here was a gold-mine of pure correction—the metaphor is mixed perhaps, but you will understand it. Then she said: "And do you permit it?"
"Oh, I don't care."
"But I fancy, your father——" Miss Hancock paused.
"Oh, father doesn't mind; every one has called me Fanny since I was so high."
"Yes, but, my dear girl, you are no longer a child. Fathers are indulgent, and sometimes blind to what the world thinks; consider, when you come to marry, when you come to have a husband——"
"Oh, I hope it'll be a long time before I come to that," said Fanny, in a tone of voice as if general service or the workhouse were the topic of discussion.
Miss Hancock took a rather deep inspiration, and was dumb for a moment.