“You will accompany us, I trust, to my drawing-room?” says my lady, rising.
Mr. Lambert pleaded to be excused; but the ladies on no account would let dear George go away. No, positively, he should not go. They wanted to make acquaintance with their cousin. They must hear about that dreadful battle and escape from the Indians. Tom Claypool came in and heard some of the story. Flora was listening to it with her handkerchief to her eyes, and little Miles had just said—
“Why do you take your handkerchief, Flora? You're not crying a bit.”
Being a man of great humour, Martin Lambert, when he went home, could not help entertaining his wife with an account of the new family with which he had made acquaintance. A certain cant word called humbug had lately come into vogue. Will it be believed that the General used it to designate the family of this virtuous country gentleman? He described the eager hospitalities of the father, the pompous flatteries of the mother, and the daughters' looks of admiration; the toughness and security of the mutton, and the abominable taste and odour of the cordial; and we may be sure Mrs. Lambert contrasted Lady Warrington's recent behaviour to poor Harry with her present conduct to George.
“Is this Miss Warrington really handsome?” asks Mrs Lambent.
“Yes; she is very handsome indeed, and the most astounding flirt I have ever set eyes on,” replies the General.
“The hypocrite! I have no patience with such people!” cries the lady.
To which the General, strange to say, only replied by the monosyllable “Bo!”
“Why do you say 'Bo!' Martin?” asks the lady.
“I say 'Bo!' to a goose, my dear,” answers the General.