"That is his sister Winnie," replied Mr. Dyke, peering through his glasses. "A nice girl, Sir Percival, with a proper admiration for literature."
"Too dumpy, by far," responded that gentleman, surveying the lady with anything but approval. "By the way, I 've something to say to Terence. Brooking, while I run after them, you may tell Mr. Dyke your opinion of his poetry."
And hastening to the door, the baronet gave chase to the couple, already at quite a distance.
At this moment Farrell chanced to look around and, beholding the approaching macaroni, halted his companion and stood waiting, his sister feeling quite giddy with the thought of meeting so great a beau as Sir Percival.
"I 've a word or two to say that may interest you, Terence, if you can spare me a moment," began the baronet.
"My time is quite at your disposal, Sir Percival," replied Farrell. "Permit me to present you to my sister."
Sir Percival bowed with graceful formality.
"La, Mistress Farrell," he sighed, prettily, "your father is indeed fortunate. With such a son and such a daughter his old age should be crowned with happiness and content."
"Father finds much to criticise," said the girl. "I fear he takes no such flattering view of his children as you insinuate he should."
"Criticise?" repeated Sir Percival in a tone of astonishment. "What can he wish for?"