And then as he appeared a trifle disappointed I elaborated, for his ignorance was patent. "My ancestors came over a generation before Winthrop," I said gently, for, of course, I would not like that family to hear that I had in any way classified them as nouveaux.
"Ah!" said Mr. Pegg, brightening again. "That's fine! That's fine, Madam Talbot—a real aristocrat!"
"I am Miss Talbot," I again corrected him.
"Well," said he doubtfully, "of course, that's not quite as desirable as a widow would be, is it now? To take care of my daughter, I mean. Still, in some ways an old maid is better. More particular, you'd be. And what's more, you are born blue-blooded, not just married to it!"
"Mr. Pegg," said I, "will you not set forth the exact nature of the occupation you propose for me?"
"That's it!" he cried, thumping the table. "That's the stuff exactly.
"I beg pardon?" said I.
"Talk like that!" he shouted. "And learn her to talk the same—give her some class!"
"You expect me to teach your daughter grammar?"
"Teach her everything!" said the giant. "Polish her up; finish her off—but not by instructin' her. My Lord, no! She'd never stand for it! Just stick round—be with her—let a little Boston rub off on her, and set her right when she makes a break."