“Why, you hussy, do you want me to accept him?”
“Oh, I did not say that, papa. Please don’t say I said anything of the kind. I only meant—”
“I know what you meant. Why, you hussy, do you want me to refuse him?”
“You know best, papa,” said Ursula, demurely.
“Then, of course, I shall send him about his business. Imagine the thing. The future Baroness van Helmont, and my child Ursula!”
“I am not such a child,” replied Ursula, blushing and drawing herself up.
“Consider, my dear, the match would be an ill-assorted one. Personally, I cannot say I look upon it—no, I won’t say that, either. But, dear me, dear me; I am quite taken aback. Ursula, my dear, what is your attitude?”
“Oh, I haven’t got an attitude,” cried Ursula, strenuously threading her needle. “Oh, don’t say another word about it, please. Go away, dear Captain, do, and leave me in peace.”
“But, Ursula, this is childish. Otto—”