“I’m sure you haven’t,” she retorted. “You’re a perfect skeleton.”
Philip reddened.
“That’s a tu quoque, Sally,” cried her father. “You will be fined one golden hair of your head. Jane, fetch the shears.”
“Well, he is thin, father,” remonstrated Sally. “He’s just skin and bone.”
“That’s not the question, child. He is at perfect liberty to be thin, but your obesity is contrary to decorum.”
As he spoke he put his arm proudly round her waist and looked at her with admiring eyes.
“Let me get on with the table, father. If I am comfortable there are some who don’t seem to mind it.”
“The hussy!” cried Athelny, with a dramatic wave of the hand. “She taunts me with the notorious fact that Joseph, a son of Levi who sells jewels in Holborn, has made her an offer of marriage.”
“Have you accepted him, Sally?” asked Philip.
“Don’t you know father better than that by this time? There’s not a word of truth in it.”