"I'm sure I don't know, mamma; something good, I hope," returned the saucy girl. "Little Ferraday—I had called him up here to give him some cakes—could not think where his kite had vanished, and began to roar; so I found him sixpence and sent him into the town to buy another. I don't know whether he got lost or run over. The nurse seemed to think it would be one of the two, for she went into a fit when she found he had gone off alone."
"Georgina, I tell you these things cannot be permitted to continue. You are no longer a child."
The colloquy was interrupted by the entrance of the dean: a genial-looking man, with silver buckles in his shoes, and a face very much like Georgina's own. He had apparently just come in, for he had his shovel hat in his hand. The girl loved her father above everything on earth; to his slightest word she rendered implicit homage; though she waged hot war with all others in authority over her, commencing with Mrs. Beauclerc. She flew to the dean with a beaming face, and he clasped his arms round her with a gesture of the fondest affection. Mrs. Beauclerc left the room. She never cared to enter into a contest with her daughter before the dean.
"My Georgina!" came forth the loving whisper.
"Papa, is it one o'clock?"
"Not yet, my dear."
"I'm sure I heard the college clock strike."
"You thought you did, perhaps. It must have been the quarters."
"Oh, dear! I have been calling Mr. Wilberforce hard names for nothing."
"What has Mr. Wilberforce done to you, my Georgie?"