"I am sure, papa, you only visit here as you did at Hatton and Lidham, and in Shrewsbury; you never made love to Miss Wycherly or Miss Spottiswoode; did you? And you never spoke to, or looked at Clara that I could see? I cannot make it all out! I am sure, Clara, you would have mentioned it to me if you had liked papa, or if you thought papa liked you. I never shall understand it. Are you going to marry soon, papa?"
"All in good time, my dear Lucy," replied Lady Wetheral, pleased with the admirable issue of her scheme; "there are many little things to be done before Clara can be given up to you. You, my dear Lucy, must be my daughter when Clara goes to Ripley; you must stay with me then, at poor lonely Wetheral."
"My dear Lady Wetheral, I will often come to see you, but I am sure Clara will require my assistance some time at Ripley. You don't know how particular papa is in eating! Clara will be some time finding out what papa likes, and till then!—oh, Clara, till then!" Miss Kerrison lifted up her hands and eyes. Sir Foster only smiled at his daughter's insinuation; he never offered to excuse or remove the implied hint from the minds of his fair one, or her mother. Miss Kerrison proceeded with lively energy,—
"Oh, Clara, I am very glad you mean to marry papa, though I never shall understand how it was brought about. I shall be released from managing the establishment, which I do not like. I hope you will get money from papa for every thing; I can assure you I had dreadful work to squeeze out a few pounds, and the fishmonger is my abhorrence: papa and the fishmonger have pretty scenes together!"
Sir Foster Kerrison chuckled, and winked his eye with nervous rapidity.
"Yes, papa, you may laugh, but the fishmonger did not. Do you know, Clara, papa kicked the man and his basket of soles and salmon out of the kitchen, and down the drive at Ripley."
Another chuckle betrayed the delight Sir Foster felt at the recollection of his prowess. Lady Wetheral however thought it politic to close the subject.
"Tradespeople are very tiresome, my dear Lucy, and it requires a particular degree of patience to deal with itinerant fish-people. I don't wonder at your poor father losing temper. One moment, my love, if you please."
She rose and quitted the boudoir, followed by Miss Kerrison, who accompanied her to the breakfast-room. Her ladyship then expressed and explained her wishes.