MY AUNT. Reprobate!
UNCLE GEORGE. So had I, Julia. There was Mary—or was it Ann—at least if it wasn't Ann it was Betty or Bessie; anyhow, I know she was—
AUNT JULIA. Rake!
UNCLE JERVAS. Remember, we were very young and had never been privileged to behold the Lady Julia Conroy—
UNCLE GEORGE. Begad, Julia—and there y'have it!
MY AUNT. We were discussing my nephew, I think!
MY UNCLE JERVAS. True, Julia, and I was about to remark that since you refuse to send him up to Oxford or Cambridge, the only chance I see for him is to quit your apron strings and go out into the world to find his manhood if he can.
My aunt turned upon the speaker, handsome head upflung, but, ere she could speak, the grandfather clock in the corner rang the hour in its mellow chime. Thereupon my aunt rose to her stately height and reached out to me her slender, imperious hand.
"Peregrine, it is ten o'clock. Good night, dear boy!" said she and kissed me. Thereafter, having kissed the hand that clasped mine, I bowed to my two uncles and went dutifully to bed.