Mr. Shelmerdine cordially agreed with those great men.
"To think of my granddaughter playing Cinderella at the Lane when she should be playing Lady Macbeth at His Majesty's!"
"Oh, but ma'am," said the young man, "she is a nailin' good Cinderella, you know."
"A nailing good Cinderella, when her great-grandmother played with Garrick, and one of her forebears was in Shakespeare's own company!"
The young man thought silence would be safer here. Still, knightly conduct was undoubtedly called for.
"I hope you won't mind my sayin', ma'am," said he, "that she's the finest Cinderella I've ever—although I daresay I oughtn't to say it in her presence."
But Grandmamma would admit no extenuating circumstance. Mary was a disgrace.
"Well, dear Granny," and again that wicked left eyelid came into action, "you can't deny that next year the Lane is going to double my salary, although I am sure I get quite enough as it is."
"Child, do you suppose that John Peter Kendall would have urged such an excuse?"
Grandmamma's majesty dissolved Cinderella in light-*hearted mirth.
"I quite see your point, ma'am," said the heir to the barony, playing as well as he knew how.
