"Manners?" cried the thin man enigmatically. "Ah, if you want manners!"
"Oh! manners," echoed the boy, "that's another matter. I was talking of beauty, and if that girl isn't a clinker——"
"'Manners makyth man,' as I trust all Wykehamists know——"
"Well, now, Mr. Welbourne, if manners makyth woman too," Mrs. Dinwiddie put in, "I judge that poor Boundrish gell wants making some. The way she'll take the only comfortable chairs."
"I'll poor-Boundrish-girl her as soon as I get the chance!" reflected the fair object of the discussion, her eyes winking with wrath.
"My dear lady," expostulated the boy, "we were speaking of beauty. You, who come from the country par excellence of fair women, can you, even in comparison with your peerless countrywomen, deny that Miss Boundrish is a clinker?"
"Ah!" sighed poor Dorris, "I always thought Bertie Trevor as nice as they make them."
"Land's sake, Mr. Trevor, she clinks fast enough; she goes solid for beauty, if that's what you mean, and I guess she'd go for me if I darst deny it. But what, did Solomon say, is a beautiful woman without discretion?"
"Surely his was a somewhat jaundiced view of the sex, Mrs. Dinwiddie——"
"Anyhow, 'twas pretty extensive. He'd ought to know 'em if anybody did. He'd sampled 'em pretty well all round. King Solomon's reckoned about the most married man in history."