“I was born for it, my lord. I feel that fact; besides, I have a generous ambition to distinguish myself.”
“Well,” said the peer, “we will talk all that over in a few days. But don't you admit that I am an eccentric old fellow?”
“And doesn't your lordship admit that I am an eccentric young fellow?”
“Ay, but, harkee, Mr. Woodward,” said the peer, “I always sleep with one eye open.”
“And I,” replied Harry, “sleep with both eyes open.”
“Come, confound me, that beats me, you must get on in life, and I will consider your pretensions to my niece.”
At this moment his mother and Miss Riddle entered the drawing-room, which, notwithstanding the comical shape of the mansion, was spacious, and admirably furnished. Miss Riddle's Christian name was Thomasina; but her eccentric uncle never called her by any other appellation than Tom, and occasionally Tommy.
“Mrs. Lindsay, uncle,” said the girl, introducing her.
“Eh? Mrs. Lindsay! O! how do you do, Mrs. Lindsay? How is that unfortunate devil, your husband?”
Now Mrs. Lindsay was one of those women who, whenever there was a selfish object in view, could not only suppress her feelings, but exhibit a class of them in direct opposition to those she actually felt.