"No!" said he.

"I could wish you a little more emphatic, sir and much more--more fiercely masculine--ferocity tempered with respect. Could you ever forget to be so preposterously sedate?"

"I climbed a wall!" he reminded her.

"Pooh!" she exclaimed, "and sat there as gravely unruffled, as proper and precise as a parson in a pulpit. See you now, perched upon a corner of the desk, yet you perch so sublimely correct and solemn 'tis vastly annoying. Could you ever contrive to lose your temper, I wonder?"

"Never with a child," he answered, smiling.

Lady Betty stiffened and stared at him with proud head upflung, grew very red, grew pale, and finally laughed; but her eyes glittered beneath down-sweeping lashes as she answered softly:

"'Deed, sir, I'm very contemptibly young, sir, immaturely hoydenish, sir, green, callow, unripe and altogether of no account to a tried man o' the world sir, of age and judgment ripe--aye, a little over-ripe, perchance. And yet, O!" my lady sighed ecstatic, "I dare swear that one day you shall not find in all the South country such a furiously-angry, ferociously-pa.s.sionate, rampantly-raging old gentleman as Major John d'Arcy, sir!"

"And there's your aunt calling us, I think," said he, gently. Lady Betty bit her lip and frowned at her dainty shoe. "Pray let her wail, sir, 'tis her one delight when there chance to be a sufficiency of gentlemen to attend her, so suffer the poor soul to wail awhile, sir--nay, she's here!"

As the Major rose the door opened and Lady Belinda entered "twittering"

upon the arms of Viscount Merivale and Sir Benjamin Tripp.

"Olack-a-day, dear Bet!" she gasped, "my own love-bird, 'tis here you are and the dear Major too! We've sought thee everywhere, child, the tea languishes--high an low we've sought thee, puss. 'Tis a monstrous fine house but vast--so many stairs--such work--upstairs and downstairs I've climbed and clambered, child----"

"Od so, 'tis true enough!" said Sir Benjamin clapping laced handkerchief to heated brow, "haven't done so much, hem! I say so much climbing for years, I vow!"

Here the Viscount, serene as ever, slowly closed one eye.

"Come Betty sweet, tea grows impatient and clamours for thee and I for tea, and the gentlemen all do pa.s.sion for thee."

"By the way, Tom," said the Major as they followed the company, "I don't see Mr. Dalroyd here."

"No more he is, nunky!" answered the Viscount, "but then, Lord, sir, Dalroyd is something of an unknown quant.i.ty, at all times."

CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH LADY BELINDA TALKS

"And pray mam," enquired the Major as they strolled over velvety lawn, "are you and my lady Betty settled in the country for good?"

The Lady Belinda stopped suddenly and raised clasped hands to heaven.

"Hark to the monster!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "O Lud, Major, how can you?

Stop in the country--I? O heaven--a wilderness of cabbages and caterpillars--of champing cows and snorting bulls! Sir, sir, at the bare possibility I vow I could positively swoon away----"

"Don't, mam!" cried the Major hastily. "No, no mam, pray don't," he pleaded.

"I detest the country sir, I----"

"Quite so, quite so," said the Major soothingly, "cows mam, I understand--quite natural indeed!"

"I loathe and abominate the country, sir--so rude and savage! Such mud and so--so infinite muddy and clingy! What can one do in the country but mope and sigh to be out of it?"

"Well, one can walk in it, mam, and----"

"Walk, sir? But I nauseate walking--in the country extremely. Think of the brooks sir, so--so barbarously wet and--and brooky. Think of the wind so bold to rumple one and spiky things to drag at and tear and take liberties with one's garments! Think of the things that creep and crawl and the things that fly and buzz--and the spiders' webs that tickle one's face! No sir, no--the country is no place for one endowed with a fine and delicate nature."

"Certainly not, mam," said the Major heartily. "Then you'll be leaving shortly?"

"I so beseech Heaven on my two bended knees, sir, but alas, I know not!

'Tis Betty--an orphan, sweet child and in my care. But indeed she's so wickedly wilful, so fly-by-night, so rampant o' youth and--and unreason."

"Indeed, mam!"

"And though sweet Bet is an angel of goodness she hath a temper, O!"

"Hum!" said the Major.

"And such--such animal spirits! So vulgarly robust! Such rude health and vigorous as a dairy-maid! And talking of dairy matters, only the other morning I found her positively--milking a cow!"

"Egad and did you so, mam?"

"And this morning such a romping in the dairy and there was she--O sir!"

"What, mam?"

"Arms all naked--churning, sir!

"O, churning?"

"Riotously, sir!"

"Did you--er--swoon, mam?"

"Indeed I could ha' done, dear Major, but--'twixt you and me, though dear Bet hath the best of hearts, she is perhaps a little unsympathetic I'll not deny, and hath betimes a sharp tongue, I must confess."

"Indeed I--I should judge so, mam."

"O you men!" sighed the Lady Belinda, turning up her eyes, "so quick to spy out foibles feminine--la sir and fie! But indeed though I do love my sweet Bet, O pa.s.sionately, truth bids me say she can be almost shrewish!"

"You have my sympathy, mam!"

"Dear Major, I deserve it---if you only knew! The pranks she hath played me--so wild, so ungoverned, so--so unvirginal!" The Major winced. "I have known her gallop her horse in the paddock--man-fashion!" The Major looked relieved; perceiving which, Lady Belinda, sinking her voice, continued: "And once, sir, O heaven, can I ever forget! Once--O I tremble to speak it! Once----" The Major flinched again. "Once, sir, she actually ventured forth dressed in--in--O I blush!--in--O Modesty! O Purity!--in--O----!"

"Madam, a G.o.d's name--in what?"

"Male attire, sir--O I burn!"

The Major did the same.