“Aye, but the dogs be worst!” cried old Penelope, giving the fire a savage poke. “I can’t abide dogs!”
“By heaven!” exclaimed my lady in sudden ferocity, “would I were a man!”
“By heaven!” retorted Sir John, “I rejoice that you are not!”
“Tush!” she cried angrily, “’tis time there came a man to High Dering!”
“I have thought so too!” he answered gravely.
“Nay, I mean a strong man—a man of action!”
So saying, my lady rose, contemptuous, seeming to fill the small place with the majesty of her presence.
“Dear Penelope,” said she gently, “suffer me to do that for you—I’ll lay the cloth and——”
“No, no!”
“But I say yes!”