whether of politeness or defiance, exit Lady Baker, followed by page, bearing bandboxes, shawls, paper parcels, parasols—I know not what. Dear Popham stands on his head as grandmamma leaves the room. "Don't be vulgar!" cries little Cecy (the dear child is always acting as a little Mentor to her brother). "I shall, if I like," says Pop; and he makes faces at her
"You know your room, Batch?" asks the master of the house.
"Mr. Batchelor's old room—always has the blue room," says Bedford, looking very kindly at me.
"Give us," cries Lovel, "a bottle of that Sau. . . ."
". . . Terne, Mr. Batchelor used to like. Château Yquem. All right!" says Mr. Bedford. "How will you have the turbot done you brought down?—Dutch sauce?—Make lobster into salad? Mr. Bonnington likes lobster salad," says Bedford. Pop is winding up the butler's back at this time. It is evident Mr. Bedford is a privileged person in the family. As he had entered it on my nomination several years ago, and had been ever since the faithful valet, butler, and major-domo of Lovel, Bedford and I were always good friends when we met.
"By the way, Bedford, why wasn't the barouche sent for me to the bridge?" cries Lovel. "I had to walk all the way home, with a bat and stumps for Pop, with the basket of fish, and that bandbox with my lady's"
"He—he!" grins Bedford.
"'He—he!' Confound you, why do you stand grinning there? Why didn't I have the carriage, I say?" bawls the master of the house.
"You know, sir," says Bedford. "She had the carriage." And he indicated the door through which Lady Baker had just retreated.
"Then why didn't I have the phaeton?" asks Bedford's master.
"Your ma and Mr. Bonnington had the phaeton."
"And why shouldn't they, pray? Mr. Bonnington is lame: I'm at my business all day. I should like to know why they shouldn't have the phaeton?" says Lovel, appealing to me. As we had been sitting talking together previous to Miss Prior's appearance, Lady Baker had said to Lovel, "Your mother and Mr. Bonnington are coming to dinner of course, Frederick;" and Lovel had said, "Of course they are," with a peevish bluster, whereof I now began to understand the meaning. The fact was, these two women were fighting for the possession of this child; but who was the Solomon to say which should have him? Not I. Nenni. I put my oar in no man's boat. Give me an easy life, my dear friends, and row me gently over.
"You had better go and dress," says Bedford sternly, looking at his master; "the first bell has rung this quarter of an hour. Will you have some 34?"
Lovel started up; he looked at the clock. "You are all ready, Batch, I see. I hope you are going to stay some time, ain't you?" And he disappeared to array himself in his sables and starch. I was thus alone with Miss Prior, and her young charges, who resumed straightway their infantine gambols and quarrels.
