But Lady Sophia, in tones of entreaty, interrupted: “Oh, Theodore, Theodore, not again!”
He gave her a glance of some vexation, but held his tongue.
“The first millionaire I meet who’s lookin’ out for a family tree, I’ll sell him mine for fifty quid,” said Lord Spratte. “And I’m blowed if it wouldn’t be cheap at the price, considerin’ that it’s chock full of Howards and Talbots and de Veres—to say nothin’ of a whole string of Montmorencys.”
“You don’t know Sir John Durant, the brewer, do you, father?” asked Lionel. “He told me that since they gave him a baronetcy people have been regularly sending him a new and original family tree once a week.”
“He must have quite a forest by now,” answered Lord Spratte. “What does he use ’em for—hop-poles?”
“I should have thought they would make admirable Christmas presents for his poor relations,” suggested the Canon, who could not resist his little joke even on subjects dear to him. He turned again to his daughter. “By the way, Winnie, I find I shall be unable to go to Mr. Railing’s meeting to-morrow.”
“He’ll be awfully disappointed. He was expecting you to make a speech.”
“I’ve promised Lady Vizard to lunch with her to meet the Princess of Wartburg-Hochstein. I shouldn’t be able to get away early enough. A clergyman’s time is really never his own, and the Princess wishes particularly to meet me.”
“People so often forget that even Royal Personages have spiritual difficulties,” murmured Lady Sophia.
“I shall write a little note to Mr. Railing wishing him luck, and with your permission, Sophia, I’ll ask him to tea afterwards.”