"Never, mamma," answered Violet with conviction. "First and foremost, I never can be lovely, because I have red hair and a wide mouth. Secondly, I can never be elegant—much less ethereal—because it isn't in me. Thirdly, I shall never be accomplished, for poor Miss McCroke is always giving me up as the baddest lot in the shape of pupils that ever came in her way."
"If you persist in talking in that horrible way, Violet——"
"Let her talk as she likes, Pam," said the fond father. "I won't have her bitted too heavily."
Mrs. Tempest breathed a gentle sigh of resignation. The Squire was all that is dear and good as husband and father, but refinement was out of his line.
"Do go on about the party, mamma. Did Rorie seem to enjoy himself very much——"
"I think so. He was very devoted to his cousin all the evening. I believe they are engaged to be married."
"Mamma!" exclaimed Vixen, starting up from her reclining attitude upon her father's shoulder, and looking intently at the speaker; "Rorie engaged to Lady Mabel Ashbourne!"
"So I am told," replied Mrs. Tempest. "It will be a splendid match for him."
The pretty chestnut head dropped back into its old place upon the Squire's shoulder, and Violet answered never a word.
"Past two o'clock," cried her mother. "This is really too dreadful. Come, Violet, you and I must go upstairs at any rate."