“That’s what we are, you little rogue,” laughed the captain, beaming tenderly at the child.
Soon after, Mrs. Osborn drove up, and they all went in to dinner. As the meal progressed, Hugh was satisfied that the relations between Mrs. Osborn and her husband had not materially improved.
“I presume,” remarked the captain, “that this distinguished surgeon, Dr. Lenox Avondale, will take up his quarters at the Grove, and stay indefinitely. It’s a great deal cheaper than stopping at a public hotel.”
“Captain,” said Mrs. Osborn, coldly, “your inference is very unbecoming. You may speak disrespectfully in a general way about the English people, if it pleases you, but I cannot allow thoughtless remarks about my own particular English friends to pass unnoticed.”
“I beg your pardon, Lucy, I thought Doctor Avondale was the particular friend of Mrs. Horton and Miss Ethel.”
“And why not mine also?” she inquired, rather testily.
“Oh, I did n’t know that,” said the captain.
“Well, that’s it, Captain; there is so much that you don’t know, and your remarks are so careless that you quite provoke me.”
“There’s one thing I do know,” said the captain, as usual taking refuge in his boy. “I have a young gentleman at my right, here, who is the worst little rascal in southwestern Kansas.”
“Oh, don’t tell on me, papa; don’t ‘ou tell!”