“I like big, strong men,” Phyllis remarked critically.
“Do you?” came in Uncle Robert’s stentorian voice from the road. “You ought to like me, then!”
“So I do,” cried Phyllis, running lightly to the gate.
“Very nice and very proper of you, my dear,” rejoined Uncle Robert. “So you are home first, Dan? Eh, what? We thought Philip would keep you late. Annie and I have been listening to the Socialists holding forth on the beach. There is something in what they say too.”
“Where do they hold forth?” inquired Dan.
“By the two Albertines. You ought to go and hear them. Carlyle called theirs ‘the dismal science,’ didn’t he? Ah! that was about the Nigger question. He said, too: ‘A Burns is infinitely better educated than a Byron.’ Ha! ha!”
“Mr. Burns,” broke out Dan, “you ought to be fined a bottle of champagne every time you make a quotation.”
“Then I fear there would be a slump in the wine trade—no, I mean, someone would make a corner in champagne,” said Uncle Robert. “But let us join the fair ladies. See! they have gone in, and the inner man calleth for provender.”
Supper took the place of dinner on Sundays at Hawk’s Nest, and it was during this meal that Phyllis heard what Dan thought of Miss Le Breton.
Dan, once upon the subject, talked so volubly, that Uncle Robert could not get in a single quotation. Aimée Le Breton’s expression, to say nothing of her perfection of line, molding and color, was something to dream of. “‘Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,’” Dan quoted, whereupon Uncle Robert exclaimed: “You are usurping my throne,” and everyone laughed except Phyllis.