"Do you grudge
the old folks a share? Eh, sir? eh?"
And the old gentleman pinched my shoulder, and clapped me on the back.
He was positively playful.
"Stop, my dear father," said I, "you're mistaken."
"Eh, what?" said my father, and Aunt Maria drew her laces round her
and prepared for war.
"Polly and I are not engaged, sir, if that's what you think," said I,
desperately.
My father and Aunt Maria both opened their mouths at once.
"Dinner's on the table, sir," the butler announced. My father lacked a
subject for his vexation, and turned upon old Bowles:
"Take the dinner to ----"
"--the kitchen," said I, "and keep it warm for ten minutes; we are not
ready. Now, my dear father, come to my room, for I have something to
tell you."
There was no need for Polly to ask Aunt Maria to go with her. That
lady drove her daughter before her to her bedroom, with a severity of
aspect which puzzled and alarmed poor Leo, whom they passed in the
corridor. A blind man could have told by the rustle of her dress that
Mrs. Ascott would have a full explanation before she broke bread again
at our table.
I fancy she was not severe upon the future Lady Damer, when Polly's
tale was told.
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