The Admiral did not convey his son away in a hollow cloud, or even
break the Club telescope in Mr. Moggridge's hand; he made a speech
instead, to this effect:
"My sons, attend and cease from strife implacable; neither be as two
ravening whelps that, having chanced on a kid in the dells of the
mountain, dispute thereover, dragging this way and that with gnashing
jaws. For to youth belong anger and biting words, but to soothe is
the gift of old age."
What the Admiral actually said was--"Hullo! what the devil are you
young cubs quarrelling about?"
And now, satisfied that no blood is to be spilt, the Muse hies gladly
to a very different scene.
In the drawing-room of "The Bower" Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was sitting
with a puzzled face and a letter on her lap. She had gone to the
front door to learn Sam Buzza's answer, and, having dismissed her
messenger, was returning, when the garden-gate creaked, and a
blue-jerseyed man, with a gravely humorous face, stood before her.
The new comer had regarded her long and earnestly before asking--
"Be you Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys?"
"I am."
"Answerin' to name o' Geraldine, an' lawful wife o' party answerin'
to name o' Honorubble Frederic?"
"Certainly!" she smiled.
"H'm. Then this 'ere's for you." And the blue-jerseyed man handed a
letter, and looked at her again, searchingly.
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