“They will as soon as they know it’s the thing.”
“Well, I know I won’t,” said Boyne. “I won’t call momma a woman.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do, Boyne dear,” his sister serenely assured him.
While he stood searching his mind for a suitable retort, a young man, not apparently many years his senior, came round the corner of the music-room, and put himself conspicuously in view at a distance from the Kentons.
“There he is, now,” said Boyne. “He wants to be introduced to Lottie.” He referred the question to Ellen, but Lottie answered for her.
“Then why don’t you introduce him?”
“Well, I would if he was an American. But you can’t tell about these English.” He resumed the dignity he had lost in making the explanation to Lottie, and ignored her in turning again to Ellen. “What do you think, Ellen?”
“Oh, don’t know about such things, Boyne,” she said, shrinking from the responsibility.
“Well; upon my word!” cried Lottie. “If Ellen can talk by the hour with that precious Mr. Breckon, and stay up here along with him, when everybody else is down below sick, I don’t think she can have a great deal to say about a half-grown boy like that being introduced to me.”
“He’s as old as you are,” said Boyne, hotly.