could have gathered ferns, sipped the bright morning dew, come back with a colour, and eaten a breakfast like I do. Tiny, give me some more of that turkey.”
“Your appetite is really ravenous, child,” said Miss Matilda, with a shudder.
“Not it, aunty; I’m growing – ain’t I, ma, dear?”
“Well, my love, I think you are filling out – not growing.”
“Oh, but, ma,” laughed Fin, with her mouth full, “I’m not going to be round and plump like you are, am I?”
“Fin!” exclaimed her sister, from the other side of the table.
“Oh, ma knows I don’t mean any harm; don’t you, dear? It’s only my fun, isn’t it? I shouldn’t mind – I should like to be such a soft, loving old dear; shouldn’t I?”
“Hush, hush, hush!” exclaimed Lady Rea. “I do think, though, aunty, a walk would do you good before breakfast.”
“Perhaps it might do you good, too,” said Miss Matilda, with some asperity.
“Er-rum, er-rum!” ejaculated Sir Hampton, laying down a big blue official envelope. “Lady Rea – my dears, I have something to communicate.”
He sat back in his chair, and brushed a few crumbs from his buff waistcoat.
“Well, pa, dear, what is it?” said Lady Rea, out of her tea-cup.
“Er-rum, I have at last,” said Sir Hampton, pompously, “received public recognition of my position. My dears, I have been placed upon the bench, and am now one of the county magistracy.”
He looked round for the applause which should follow.
“Well, my dear, I’m sure I’m very glad if it pleases you,” said Lady Rea. “Matty, give me another poached egg.”
“It was quite time they did, Hampton,” said Miss Matilda.
“I congratulate you, papa, dear,” said Valentina, going up to him and kissing him; “and I’m sure the poor will be glad to have so kind a magistrate to deal with them.”
“Thank you, Tiny – thank you,” said Sir Hampton, smiling, and trying to look every inch a magistrate, before turning to his second daughter, who was intent upon a turkey drumstick.
“But I say, pa, what fun it will be!” she said at last; “you’ll have to sit on the poachers.”
“Yes, the scoundrels!” said Sir Hampton, and his cravat crackled.
“And send all the poor old women to quod for picking sticks.”
“To where?” exclaimed Miss Matilda, in horrified tones.
“Quod,” said Finetta, quite unmoved; “it’s Latin, I think, for prison, or else it’s stable slang – I’m not sure. But oh, my,” she continued, seeing her father’s frown, “we’ve got some news, too.”
“Have you, dear?” said mamma, “what is it?”
“We saw Humphrey Lloyd this morning.”
“Who is Humphrey Lloyd?” said Lady Rea.
“The keeper at Penreife.”
“Penreife,” said Sir Hampton, waking up out of a day-dream of judicial honours. “Yes, a beautiful estate. I would have bought it instead of this if it had been for sale.”
“Well,” said Finetta, “we met Humphrey, and talked to him.”
“I think, if I may be allowed to say so, Finetta, that you are too fond of talking to grooms and keepers, and people of that class,” said Miss Matilda, glancing at her brother, who, however, was once more immersed in judicial dreams – J.P., custos rotulorum, commission of the peace, etcetera.
“Tennyson used to hang with grooms and porters on bridges, and he’s poet laureate; so why shouldn’t I?” said Finetta, rebelliously.
“I don’t think it’s nice, though,” said mamma. “Aunt Matty is quite right; you are not a child now, my dear.”
“Oh, mamma, dear, it’s only Fin’s nonsense,” said Tiny. “Humphrey is a very respectful, worthy young fellow, and he climbed up the big rocks down by Penreife for us, and got us some of those beautiful little aspleniums we couldn’t reach.”
“Yes, ma, dear,” said Finetta; “and he says that the next time he writes to his old aunt in Wales, he’ll tell her to send some of the beautiful little rare ferns that grow up on one of the mountains, in a place that nearly broke my teeth when I tried to say it.”
Lady Rea shook her head at her daughter, who rattled on.
“Well, you know about Penreife belonging to Lieutenant Trevor?”
Lady Rea nodded.
“Well, Humphrey’s got orders to go to town to meet his master, who has been on a cruise round the world, and his ship’s paid off, and now he’s going to settle at home.”
“Who’s going to settle at home?” inquired Sir Hampton.
“Lieutenant Trevor.”
“Ah! a sailor person, and rough, I suppose – sailors always are,” said Sir Hampton.
“Yes,” cried Finetta, “they haul in slack, and cry ‘Avast!’ at you, and ‘shiver my timbers!’ But, I say – I like sailors; I shall set my cap at him.”
“Finetta!” gasped Miss Matilda.
“Don’t talk nonsense, child,” said Lady Rea. “Don’t you hear what papa says about sailors being so rough? I daresay he isn’t a bit of a gentleman.”
“But he’s an officer, ma, dear,” said Finetta; “and if Tiny hasn’t made up her mind to have him, I shall. They are doing all sorts of things up at the house; and it’s to be full of company, Mrs Lloyd says; and she looked as proud as a peacock, as she stood smoothing her white apron. We’re sure to be invited; and won’t it be a good job! for this place is so jolly dull.”
“Ah, my child,” said Aunt Matilda, “if you would only properly employ your time, you would not find it dull.”
“What! knit mittens, bother the poor people, and read Saint Thomas à Kempis, aunty?” replied Finetta. “No, thank you. But Mr Trevor’s coming – I say, ought we to call him lieutenant? – it’s so absurd – ought to brighten up the place a bit; and of course, ma, you’ll ask him here?”
“Er-rum!” ejaculated Sir Hampton, rousing himself from his day-dreams. “It is my wish that there should always be shown in my establishment the hospitality of – er – er – a country gentleman.”
“And a knight,” said Miss Matilda, softly.
“Thank you, Matilda – and a knight,” said Sir Hampton. “But, my dears, I have great pleasure in announcing to you that I have made up my mind that we shall now pay a short visit to the great metropolis.”
“How
