“Oh!” said Lord Frogmore, gravely, “We are—a kind of connections?”
“Yes,” said Ralph. “I’m very glad to make your acquaintance. This little beggar here is nephew to us both. It’s droll if you think of it,” added Ralph, stopping to laugh, “that he should be nephew to you—and also to me.”
“Perhaps it is a little—droll as you say,” said Lord Frogmore. Fortunately he did not think it was his own age that Ralph referred to. He thought it was indeed a wonderful thing that he and this wild bushranger, or whoever he was, should stand in the same relationship to anyone. At this moment the footman appeared at the hall door, with a look of intelligence addressed to Ralph. The bushman started and changed into a tone of almost ostentatious hospitality. “My lunch is ready,” he said, “there’s sure to be enough for two. I hope, my lord, you’ll come and have a share.”
Lord Frogmore had left the railway at a different station from that which the Parkes ordinarily used. He was proud of his walking powers, and liked to show that he was as able for exertion as much younger men. Indeed it was his delight to surprise people who sent carriages for him and were anxious to save such an old gentleman fatigue by appearing suddenly at their door as he had done now. But so much exercise required exceptional support—and he felt the want of a glass of wine. He received Ralph’s invitation with amusement but not without pleasure. “Don’t you think,” he said, “that we had better wait for some of the people of the house.”
“Don’t be shy, my lord,” said Ralph. “Why, we’re all people of the house.”
Little Duke then stood forth, feeling the call of duty. “Mamma’s poorly upstairs—and papa is out shooting,” he said. “But I’m here. And it’s me the next after papa.”
“Oh it’s you the next, little man?”
“Yes,” said Duke, without guile—“first there’s you, don’t you know, if you’re Uncle Frogmore—and when you’re dead, papa—and when papa’s dead, me—I’ll be Lord Frogmore some day,” said the boy. “And then I shan’t want your Australian sovereign, you, uncle—man—for I don’t know your name.”
“Oh,” said the old gentleman gravely, “so you’ll be Lord Frogmore.”