Cornelius turned round to look at me smiling:
"So you were piqued," he said, "and brought up the governess to punish me!"
"Piqued!" I echoed, laughing in his face, "what about?"
He looked a little disconcerted. I thought him vexed, and apologized at once for my want of respect.
"Respect!" he replied seeming half astonished, half displeased, "what do I want with respect—your respect?" And he gave me a glance of mingled incredulity and uneasiness.
"Cornelius, you said before you went to Italy—"
"What about the foolish things, I may have said years ago." he interrupted impatiently; "Surely," he added, looking down at me reproachfully, "surely, we have both outgrown that time."
"I hope I have not outgrown my respect for you, Cornelius," I replied rather gravely.
"Again!" he said with subdued irritation; "why don't, you ask to call me
'Papa?'"
"I would if I thought you would say yes, Cornelius."