“What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!”
“Oh, amazingly!” says master, throwing his i's to heaven.
“He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!”
Master breathed more freely. “He is very good, my dear father; but blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me.”
“He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you were not his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of a younger brother,' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and an independence of his own.'”
“An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my father.”
“Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very same you told us you know.”
“Neither more nor less,” says master, bobbing his head; “a sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin,—to a man of my moderate habits an ample provision.”
“By-the-by,” cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, “you who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the aid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long long sum.”
DIDN'T HE GO—that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt across the room, and seated himself by my lady!