"I mean nothing so silly!" I answer, with lofty petulance. "I am a great deal too old for any such nonsense!"
"There I go with you," says Algy, not without grandeur. "I believe that it is the greatest humbug out, and that it rarely occurs between the ages of sixteen and sixty."
"Father's and mother's was a love-match," says Bobby, gravely. "Did not Aunt Williams tell us that they used always to sit hand-in-hand before they were married?"
A shout of laughter at our parents' expense greets this piece of information.
"All married people grow to hate one another after a bit," say I, comprehensively; "it is only a question of time."
"But if you do not love him now, and if you are sure that you will hate him by-and-by," says Barbara, looking rather puzzled, "what makes you think of taking him?"
"It would be such a fine thing for all the family: I could give all the boys such a shove," say I, with homely shrewdness.
"They killed seven hundred head of game on his big day last year; I heard him tell father so," says Bobby, with his mouth watering.
"He has a moor in Scotland," throws in the Brat.
"He must ride a stone heavier than I do," says Algy, thoughtfully, "his horses would certainly carry me: I wonder would he give me a mount now and then?"