“Oh, yes. And does she smack of the briny or does she smack of Peckham Rye?”
The Canon burst into song, facetiously, with a seaman’s roll, hoisting his slacks. His singing voice was melodious and full of spirit.
“For I’m no sailor bold,
And I’ve never been upon the sea;
And if I fall therein, it’s a fact I couldn’t swim,
And quickly at the bottom I should be.”
He threw back his head gaily.
“My dear, how uncommunicative you are, and I’m dying with curiosity. Tell me all about Mrs. Railing. Aitchless, I presume?”
“Oh, papa, how can you, how can you!” cried Winnie, hardly keeping back the tears.
“My dear, I have no doubt they are rough diamonds, but you mustn’t be discouraged at that. You must make the best of things. Remember that externals are not everything—even in this world. I’m sure the Railings are thoroughly worthy people. It is doubtless possible to eat peas with a knife, and yet to have an excellent heart. One of the most saintly women I ever knew, the old Marquise de Surennes, used invariably to wipe her knife and fork with a table-napkin before eating.”
His words, notwithstanding the tone of great tenderness, were bitter stabs; and Canon Spratte, as he spoke, really could not help admiring his own cleverness.
“I should imagine that your fiancé was devoted to his mother and sister. People of that class always are. You will naturally be a good deal together. In fact, I think it probable that they will make you long and frequent visits. One’s less desirable relations are such patterns of affection; they’re always talking of the beauty of a united family. But I’m quite sure that you’ll soon accustom yourself to their slight eccentricities of diction, to their little vulgarities of manner. Remember always that ‘kind hearts are more than coronets and simple faith than Norman blood.’ ”
But Winnie could hold herself in no longer.