Philip Oglander smiled, with his tongue in his cheek.
"Marry, father, but thou art giving me an over-true character," said he, modestly hanging his head. "My cousins will think me a dunce indeed if you herald me thus. But when Cousin Gilbert hath recovered from his injuries, as I do pray that he speedily may, I will ask him to give me a few lessons in the use of the rapier."
"That will I most gladly do," returned Gilbert. "Although, for the matter of that, Timothy Trollope here would prove a likelier and a skilfuller teacher than I, for I am still but his pupil."
"I thank you," said Philip, with a curious lift of his eyebrows as he glanced across at Timothy. "But so please you, I had rather take my lessons from a gentleman."
Timothy winced under the reproach to his lowly birth, and moved away, busying himself by putting aside some books that his young master had left lying on the window-shelf.
"Was not I right, Tim?" remarked Gilbert, some few minutes afterwards, when Drusilla with her uncle and cousin had departed. "Are not they good worthy folk, these relatives of mine?"
"It would ill become me to differ from you, Master Gilbert," answered Timothy. "My instincts may be at fault."