Her proposal was accepted with delight, Sybil only stipulating that they should not go far enough into the forest to meet bears or wolves. The story extended into two or three before the children were satisfied. Then at last they agreed that “poor Miss Freer must be tired;” and they amused themselves by discussing the rival merits of her narrations. “Beauty and the Beast” was Sybil’s favourite, though she shuddered as she listened to the description of the dreadful, though amiable monster.
Suddenly a quick step approached them, and Sir Ralph appeared. He threw himself down beside them, exclaiming as he did so:
“I beg your pardon, Miss Freer, but I am so horribly tired. I have been on duty all this time, and if had stayed longer, I should infallibly have said something rude to somebody, so I ran away to avoid getting into a scrape.”
“You’re like the Beast, Uncle Ralph,” said Lotty, oracularly.
“Like a beast!” he exclaimed. “I hope not, Lotty. What on earth do you mean?”
“I said the Beast. We have been talking about Beauty and the Beast, and I thought when you came growling so, you were just like him.”
“Thank you, Lotty,” he said; “or, rather, I think I should thank Miss Freer for the compliment, should I not? That’s what Miss Freer teaches you, eh, Sybil? To call your poor old uncle a beast.”
Marion laughed, but Sybil looked distressed.
“Oh no, dear Uncle,” she said, “Miss Freer didn’t ever say you were a beast. Lotty only said it because you growled. But, besides, Uncle Ralph, didn’t you know that the Beast was very nice, really he was, a beautiful prince at the end.”
“Really, was he? And how did he come to be so improved?” asked Ralph, with an air of the profoundest interest.