"Lord Musselburgh?" put in Mr. Ogden. "I wonder when his lordship is going to tell us what he means to be—an owner of racehorses, or a yachtsman, or a statesman? It seems to me he can't make up his own mind; and the public don't know whether to take him seriously or not."
"Lord Musselburgh," said Vincent, firing up in defence of his friend, "is an English gentleman, who thinks he ought to support English institutions:—and I dare say that is why he does not find saving grace in the caucus."
Perhaps there was more rudeness than point in this remark; but Mrs. Ellison's eyes laughed—decorously and unobserved. She said aloud—
"For my part, I consider Lord Musselburgh a very admirable young man: he has offered me the box-seat on his coach at the next Meet of the Four-in-Hand Club."
"And are you going, aunt?" her nephew asked.
"Yes, certainly."
"Rather rash of Musselburgh, isn't it?" he observed, in a casual sort of way.
"Why?"
"What attention is he likely to pay to his team, if you are sitting beside him?"
"None of your impertinence, sir," said she (but she was pleased all the same). "Boys must not say such things to their grandmothers."