“I found him on a chair in the Park, and I brought him here to keep him out of mischief,” she said, shaking hands with Lady Sophia.
“I’ve reached an age when I can only get into mischief with an infinite deal of trouble,” answered Lord Spratte, “and when I’ve succeeded, I find the game was hardly worth the candle.”
“I’ve not seen you since Theodore turned you out of the house—somewhat unceremoniously,” laughed Lady Sophia; “I hope you bear no malice.”
“Not in the least; Theodore’s cook is far too good.”
They both talked very frankly before Mrs. Fitzherbert, whom they liked equally; but the Canon would not perhaps have been much pleased if he knew how thoroughly they discussed him in her presence. Lord Spratte asked whether there was any news of the bishopric.
“Nothing has been heard yet, but Theodore is convinced he’ll get it,” replied Lady Sophia.
“He’ll be quite unbearable if he does.”
“Quite!” she agreed. “I shall shave my head and go into a convent.”
“You laugh at the Canon and you tease him, but he’s a clever man for all that,” said Mrs. Fitzherbert. “Of course he’s rather vain and grandiloquent, but not very much more than most men. I have an idea that he’ll make a first-rate bishop.”
“Theodore?”