“Let it be enough for a ring, at least,” Grace returned, in her own sweetest manner. “Half a dozen of the finest of these pearls, of which one shall be on Miles' account, and five on mine.”
“On those conditions, let it then be six. I have no occasion for pearls to remind me how much my father and my self owe to Captain Wallingford.”
“Come, Rupert,” added Grace; “you have a taste in these things, let us have your aid in the selection.” Rupert was by no means backward in complying, for he loved to be meddling in such matters.
“In the first place,” he said, “I shall at once direct that the number be increased to seven; this fine one in the centre, and three on each side, gradually diminishing in size. We must look to quality, and not to weight, for the six puisne judges, as we should call them in the courts. The Chief Justice will be a noble-looking fellow, and the associates ought to be of good quality to keep his honour's company.”
“Why do you not call your judges 'my lords,' as we do in England, Mr. Hardinge?” inquired Emily, in her prettiest manner.
“Why, sure enough! I wish with all my heart we did, and then a man would have something worth living for.”
“Rupert!” exclaimed Lucy, colouring—“you know it is because our government is republican, and that we have no nobles among us. Nor do you say exactly what you think; you would not be 'my lord,' if you could.”
“As I never shall be a 'my lord,' and I am afraid never a 'your honour'—There, Miss Merton—there are numbers two and three—observe how beautifully they are graduated as to size.”
“Well, 'your honour,'” added Grace, who began to be a little uneasy at the manner Rupert and Emily exhibited towards each other—“well, 'your honour,' what is to come next?”
“Numbers four and five, of course—and here they are, Miss Merton; as accurately diminished, as if done by hand. A beautiful ring it will make—I envy those who will be recalled to mind, by so charming an object.”