Arthur’s pleasant face literally beamed with delight.
“Oh, papa!—oh, mother!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. It is like a fairy tale. Why did you never tell us before that we were half Osberts?”
“I had meant to tell you before long,” said Mr Waldron; “but I had a horror of raising vague expectations. I knew too well what I had suffered from my false position as a child.”
“Yes,” said Arthur, thoughtfully; “I see.” And then, as a sudden idea struck him, “Fancy its coming after all through the female branch. Papa, the ghost will be laid.”
“Yes,” said Mr Waldron, smiling; “the ghost will be laid.”
“I bet you anything,”—Arthur went on—“I bet you anything, that the first thing old Jerry will say when he quite understands it, will be, ‘I’m so glad for the poor ghost.’”
“And if we never hear anything more of the ghost,” said Charlotte, speaking almost for the first time, “Jerry will be more than ever convinced that he did hear it. Papa,” she added with a little hesitation, “won’t Lady Mildred’s niece, Miss Meredon, be dreadfully disappointed when she knows all this? Perhaps she has heard all the talk about Lady Mildred’s intending to make her her heiress?”
“I hope not,” said Mr Waldron; “she has certainly hitherto shown a most friendly spirit to us. I should be grieved for our good fortune to cause disappointment to any one.”
“And then she must be so rich and grand already, I don’t suppose it would matter much to her,” said Charlotte.
“I don’t know about that: the Meredons are not a rich family by any means,” said Mr Waldron.