“Of course I should obey Father Anselm,” she continued.
“You should obey me,” said Sir Godfrey.
“And I do hope another Crusade will come soon. Don’t you think they might have one, papa? How happy I shall be when your wine is safe from that horrid Dragon!”
“Don’t speak of that monster!” shouted the Baron, forgetting all about firmness and dignity. “Don’t dare to allude to the reptile in my presence. Look here!” He seized up a great jug labelled “Château Lafitte,” and turned it upside down.
“Why, it’s empty!” said Elaine.
“Ha!” snorted the Baron; “empty indeed.” Then he set the jug down wrong side up, and remained glaring at it fixedly, while his chest rose and fell in deep heavings.
“Don’t mind it so much, papa,” said Elaine, coming up to him. “This very next season will Mistletoe and I brew a double quantity of cowslip wine.”
“Brrrrooo!” went Sir Godfrey, with a shiver.
“And I’m sure they’ll have another Crusade soon; and then my brother Roland can go, and the Drag— and the curse will be removed. Of course, I know that is the only way to get rid of it, if Father Anselm said so. I was very foolish and wrong. Indeed I was,” said she, and looked up in his face with eyes where shone such dear, good, sweet, innocent, daughterly affection, that nobody in the wide world could have suspected she was thinking as hard as she could think, “If only he won’t lock me up! if only he won’t! But, oh, it’s dreadful in me to be deceiving him so!”
“There, there!” said the Baron, and cleared his throat. Then he kissed her. Where were firmness and dignity now?