“Oh, let her alone,” I said; “she is worshipping him.”
“Worshipping him?” he cried.
“Yes; don’t you know?”
“I’ll prick her with a pin,” he said.
“Oh, you mustn’t—you really mustn’t! Do let her alone, poor thing! You see, she sees a kind of glory round father which we don’t.”
“My word, I should think not!” said Charley. “Poor, dear old Professor! Of course, he’s a jolly old dad and all that sort of thing, but—” Charley gave a low whistle.
Augusta’s voice was now heard.
“You were reading that passage aloud; I heard it,” she said. “Would you greatly mind raising your voice a little?”
The Professor lowered his book.
“Eh?” he said.