“Against which I, personally, protest.”
If the Squire expected effusive gratitude, he was disappointed. Fishpingle said respectfully:
“The young people have left the house, Sir Geoffrey, but they will be glad enough to come back.”
“I should think so. We come now to Mr. Lionel. For the future we had better speak of him as Mister Lionel, till—a—he becomes Captain Pomfret.” Fishpingle bowed. “So far, you have acted as go-between. You are aware that he is absolutely dependent on me?”
“He has his pay, Geoffrey,” murmured Lady Pomfret.
“Tchah! He is, I repeat, absolutely dependent on me. Give me time, and I can deal adequately and temperately with the young hothead. As for Miss Joyce, Ben, between ourselves, and from my knowledge of her father, that young lady will not be permitted to enter any family where she is not heartily welcomed by a majority of its members.”
Having thus expressed himself, magisterially, the Squire relaxed mind and body. He lay back in his big chair and smiled genially. To his immense surprise, Fishpingle remained silent. Lady Pomfret spoke:
“There are only three members of our family, Geoffrey, and Joyce will be heartily welcomed by two of them.”
The Squire stared at her. She met his eyes steadily. Utterly confounded, he stammered out:
“Did you say, Mary, two of ’em?”