‘Shall you go?’

’Well, it’s very awkward.  I want to go somewhere else on Saturday, with Fanny.  But I didn’t see how to refuse.’

Nancy wore a look of grave reflection, and kept silence.

‘It isn’t a bad thing, you know,’ pursued her brother, ’to have a friend of that sort.  There’s no knowing what use she might be, especially just now.’

His tone caused Nancy to look up.

‘Why just now?’

‘I’ll tell you after I’ve had a talk with father to-night,’ Horace replied, setting his countenance to a show of energetic resolve.

‘Shall I guess what you’re going to talk about?’

‘If you like.’

She gazed at him.

’You’re surely not so silly as to tell father about all that nonsense?’

‘What nonsense?’ exclaimed the other indignantly.

‘Why, with Fanny French.’

‘You’ll find that it’s anything but nonsense,’ Horace replied, raising his brows, and gazing straight before him, with expanded nostrils.

‘All right.  Let me know the result.  It’s time to go in.’

Horace sat alone for a minute or two, his legs at full length, his feet crossed, and the upper part of his body bent forward.  He smiled to himself, a smile of singular fatuity, and began to hum a popular tune.

CHAPTER 5

When they assembled at table, Mr. Lord had recovered his moderate cheerfulness.  Essentially, he was anything but ill-tempered; Horace and Nancy were far from regarding him with that resentful bitterness which is produced in the victims of a really harsh parent.  Ten years ago, as they well remembered, anger was a rare thing in his behaviour to them, and kindness the rule.  Affectionate he had never shown himself; reserve and austerity had always distinguished him.  Even now-a-days, it was generally safe to anticipate mildness from him at the evening meal.  In the matter of eating and drinking his prudence notably contradicted his precepts.  He loved strong meats, dishes highly flavoured, and partook of them without moderation.  At table his beverage was ale; for wine—­unless it were very sweet port—­he cared little; but in the privacy of his own room, whilst smoking numberless pipes of rank tobacco, he indulged freely in spirits.  The habit was unknown to his children, but for some years he had seldom gone to bed in a condition that merited the name of sobriety.

When the repast was nearly over, Mr. Lord glanced at his son and said unconcernedly: 

’You have heard that Nancy wants to mix with the rag-tag and bobtail to-morrow night?’

‘I shall take care of her,’ Horace replied, starting from his reverie.

’Doesn’t it seem to you rather a come-down for an educated young lady?’

‘Oh, there’ll be lots of them about.’

’Will there?  Then I can’t see much difference between them and the servant girls.’