Lady Johnson's features were burning and her lip quivered, but she forced a laugh, saying that her husband could have judged only by hearsay, and that the Scotch girl's reputation was still very good in the country.
"Somebody'll get her," retorted Sir John, thickly, "for they're all a-pestering—Walter Butler, too, when he was here,—and your brother, and Hare and Moucher yonder. The little slut has yellow hair, but she's too damned thin!—--" he hiccoughed and upset his wine; and a servant wiped his neck-cloth and his silk and silver waistcoat while he, with wagging and unsteady head, gazed gravely down at the damage done.
Claudia set her lips to my ear: "The beast!—to affront his wife!" she whispered. "Tell me, do you, also, go about your rustic gallantries in the shameful manner of these educated and Christian gentlemen?"
"I seek no woman's destruction," said I drily.
"Not even mine?" She laughed as I reddened, and tapped me with her fan.
"If our young men do not turn this Scotch girl's head with their philandering, send her to me and I will use her kindly."
"You would not seduce her from an old and almost helpless man who needs her?" I demanded.
"I find my servants where I can in such days as these," said she coolly. "And there are plenty to care for old Douw Fonda in Caughnawaga, but only an accomplished wench like Penelope Grant would I trust to do my hair and lace me. Will you send this girl to me?"
"No, I won't," said I bluntly. "I shall not charge myself with such an errand, even for you. It is not a decent thing you ask of me or of the wench, either."
"It is decent," retorted Claudia pettishly. "If she's as pretty a baggage as is reported, some of our young fools will never let her alone until one among them turns her silly head. Whereas the girl would be safe with me."