"Georgie"
you know, and they want a tenor. Suppose—"
"Not " said I promptly. "Georgie's interest in the King's Own cooled off when he found the girl was married to the other wandering minstrel. He'll lend that little ruffian thirty pounds, and they'll all vanish out of his life forever. Perhaps it'll be a lesson to him. Young idiot! Well, Drusilla, what's the matter now?" She was frowning anxiously at the sunny landscape.
At my question she turned and sighed.
"I am beginning to think," said she, "that perhaps we were not quite wise in making Georgie Matthew Arnold's godfather. He is so—"
She hesitated.
"Yes," said I, "he is."
And when you come to think of it, he was.
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