haven't the pleasure of the name of your niece, madam—would desire the reparation to assume, Lord Shelmerdine's solicitor will be happy to call upon her to-morrow."
"Oh, but Mater—I say—"
Slight display of Fortiter in order to cope with this unfilial interruption.
"It is your father's wish, Philip."
The ears of Grandmamma had seemed to cock a little at the mention of Lord Shelmerdine's solicitor.
"Forgive me, madam, if I appear dense," said the most perfect elocution.
Underplay a bit, Peggy my dear, like Fanny does in genuine light comedy, said the Distinguished Shade, smiling benevolently down from the cornice.
But this was the goddaughter of Bean, which perhaps the Shade had forgotten.
"You are talkin' rot, aren't you, Mater?" said the Braided Morning Coat in vibrant tones.
"It is your father's wish, Phil-ipp. He desires that no injustice—If thought desirable, reparation may assume a pecuniary—"
"You are talkin' rot though, Mater, ain't you?"
Incredible hardihood certainly on the part of the Braided Morning Coat. But eminently honorable to that chequered garment, perhaps the world is entitled to think.
