“I think so, for I consider her beneath you; and, therefore, that it is nothing but unpleasant from beginning to end. The Channings are very well in their way, but they are not equal to the Yorkes. You might make this a pretext for giving her up.”
Mr. Yorke laughed. “I think her all the more worthy of me. The only question that is apt to arise within me is, whether I am worthy of her. As we shall never agree upon this point, Lady Augusta, it may not be worth while to discuss it. About the other thing? I believe she would make an admirable governess for Caroline and Fanny, if you could obtain her.”
“Oh, I dare say she would do that. She is a lady, and has been well educated. Would she want a large salary?”
“Forty guineas a year, to begin with.”
Lady Augusta interrupted him with a scream. “I never could give half of it! I am sure I never could. What with housekeeping expenses, and milliners’ bills, and visiting, and the boys everlastingly dragging money out of me, I have scarcely anything to spare for education.”
“Yet it is more essential than all the rest. Your income, properly apportioned, would afford—”
Another scream from Lady Augusta. Her son Theodore—Tod, familiarly—burst into the room, jacketless, his hair entangled, blood upon his face, and his shirt-sleeves in shreds.
“You rebellious, wicked fright of a boy!” was the salutation of my lady, when she could recover breath.
“Oh, it’s nothing, mamma. Don’t bother,” replied Master Tod, waving her off. “I have been going into Pierce, senior, and have polished him off with a jolly good licking. He won’t get me into a row again, I’ll bet.”
“What row did he get you into?”