"A pretty wing you have got to shelter her with, Bobby."
Mr. Pynsent, to use a parliamentary expression, "withdrew his motion," and Christobelle was again exposed to his lady's jests.
"Now, I say, Sir Jacky would be a proper sort of beau for you, Miss Bell. A long-legged fellow, as steady as our best hound, with a nice estate, and a good temper."
"I would rather not leave papa," answered poor Christobelle, almost inclined to weep.
Mrs. Pynsent laughed heartily. "A good joke this, for Jacky. I only mention it, my dear, to be beforehand with my Lady Wetheral. When she tells you of Sir Jacky's estate, you can say it came from me first. I recommended the spec., mind. It will be droll enough if I get before my lady, in a matrimonial speculation."
"Come, now, mother, don't tease my friend, Bell," cried the kind-hearted Tom. "I won't allow any teasing. I shall bespeak Bell for my second wife; no one else shall have her."
"What is that?" asked Anna Maria, raising her head from examining a painted screen.
"Why, Bell has promised to be my wife, the very next time you die, you little rascal." Anna Maria snapped her fingers at him with a smile; Tom Pynsent snatched a kiss, and proceeded.
"If any one teases sister Bell, I shall feel called upon to take her part, so run and put on your habit, Bell, and we'll have a scamper with all the dogs."
Thus ended Christobelle's trouble and blushes; and Mrs. Pynsent good-humouredly forbore to distress her in future, by recurring to her appearance, or extolling the fortune and long legs of Sir John Spottiswoode.