“But he saved me from falling down the precipice,” said Muffin, “and I am going to write to dearest papa about it.”
“Caroline,” said Cheriton, “a truce to Whig exclusiveness. Behave like a human being, and ask the young fellow to dinner. Ask his mother also. I am told she is a singularly agreeable woman.”
Aunt Caroline sat the image of blue-blooded defiance. George Betterton, however, who had listened torpidly to the account of the episode, was prevailed upon by the general enthusiasm for Jim Lascelles, and the favorable impression he had already formed of that hero’s mother, to throw the weight of his own influence into the scale.
“Right thing, Caroline,” said George, “to ask the young fellow to dinner in the circumstances. Behaved very well, they tell me.”
“He shall not cross my threshold,” said Caroline, “until he apologizes for his behavior to me in Hill Street.”
“Of course he will apologize,” said Cheriton, “if you hold out the olive branch. He can’t apologize unless you do.”
“I am sure, dear Lady Crewkerne,” ventured Miss Burden, “Mr. Lascelles is a gentleman and his mother is a——”
Miss Burden was unable to complete her remark. She was annihilated by a terrific glance. The elder Miss Perry also, as was to be expected, behaved very tactlessly.
“Jim is just a sweet,” she drawled ridiculously, “and dear Mrs. Lascelles is just a sweet too.”
The glance which had slain Miss Burden was extended to the elder Miss Perry. Its effect in that quarter was by no means so terrible. That Featherbrain sustained it with the most admirable composure.