"I have had quite an interesting disquisition with your father on the East and China. He evidently knows his subject."
"Sir Peter is not my father," said the young lady, with a tinge of haughtiness.
"True. I forgot," apologetically. "Ah! that is your little artist-sister. I am very fond of children."
"Are you? I am sure I am not, little tiresome, useless animals."
"Human nature in the raw, eh!"
"Yes; I prefer it dressed. Still, to quote an inelegant proverb, 'Too much cookery spoils the broth!' But some is quite essential. Here, Isabel, take my cup." The little girl approached and offered to take Wilton's.
"No, not at any age could I permit such a thing," said he, laughing. "And so you are the artist in the house of Saville! Are you very fond of drawing?"
"I used not to be until—" she began to reply, when her sister interrupted her.
"Look, Isabel, Miss Walker wants you. Miss Walker (Hooky Walker, as my Cousin Jim calls her, because she has a hooked nose) is the governess. I think poor Isabel is a little afraid of her. She is awfully clever, and very slow."