“Thank you, Mr. Belsize,” says the lady.
“But the others are capital. There is that little chap who has just had the measles—he’s a clear little brick. And as for Miss Ethel——”
“Ethel is a trump, ma’am,” says Lord Kew, slapping his hand on his knee.
“Ethel is a brick, and Alfred is a trump, I think you say,” remarks Lady Kew, nodding approval; “and Barnes is a snob. This is very satisfactory to know.”
“We met the children out to-day,” cries the enthusiastic Kew, “as I was driving Jack in the drag, and I got out and talked to ’em.”
“Governess an uncommonly nice woman—oldish, but—I beg your pardon, Lady Julia,” cries the inopportune Jack Belsize—“I’m always putting my foot in it.”
“Putting your foot into what? Go on, Kew.”
“Well, we met the whole posse of children; and the little fellow wanted a drive, and I said I would drive him and Ethel too, if she would come. Upon my word she is as pretty a girl as you can see on a summer’s day. And the governess said ‘No,’ of course. Governesses always do. But I said I was her uncle, and Jack paid her such a fine compliment, that the young woman was mollified, and the children took their seats beside me, and Jack went behind.”
“Where Monsieur Pozzoprofondo sits, bon.”
“We drove on to the Downs, and we were nearly coming to grief. My horses are young, and when they get on the grass they are as if they were mad. It was very wrong; I know it was.”