“No, my dear.”

“Then what did papa mean, warning Mr. Dodd against one?”

Mrs. Bazalgette began to listen as he wished.

“Oh, he called her all the names.  He said she was a statue of flirtation.”

“Who?  Lucy?”

“Lucy? no! the naughty lady—­the one that had twelve husbands.  He kept warning him, and warning him, and then Mr. Dodd and papa they began to quarrel almost, because Mr. Dodd said the naughty lady was quite young, and papa said she was ever so old.  Mr. Dodd said she was twenty-one.  But papa told him she must be more than that, because she had a child that would be fifteen years old; only it died.  How old would sister Emily be if she was alive, mamma?  La, mamma, how pretty you are:  you have got red cheeks like Lucy—­redder, oh, ever so much redder—­and in general they are so pale before dinner.  Let me kiss you, mamma.  I do love the ladies when their cheeks are red.”

“There! there! now go on, dear; tell me some more.”

“It is very interesting, isn’t it, dear mamma?”

“It is amusing, at all events.”

“No, it is not amusing—­at least, what came after, isn’t:  it is wicked, it is unjust, it is abominable.”

“Tell me, dear.”

“It turned out it wasn’t the naughty lady Mr. Dodd was in love for, and who do you think he is in love of?”

“I have not an idea.”

“MY LUCY!!!”

“Nonsense, child.”

“No, no, mamma, it is not.  He owned it plump.”

“Are you quite sure, love?”

“Upon my honor.”

“What did they say next?”

“Oh, next papa began to talk his fine words that I don’t know what the meaning of them is one bit.  But Mr. Dodd, he could make them out, I suppose, for he said, ‘So, then, the upshot is—­’ There, now, what is upshot?  I don’t know.  How stupid grown-up people are; they keep using words that one doesn’t know the meaning of.”

“Never mind, love! tell me.  What came after upshot?” said Mrs. Bazalgette, soothingly, with great apparent calmness and flashing eye.

“How kind you are to-day, mamma!  That is twice you have called me love, and three times dear; only think.  I should love you if you were always so kind, and your cheeks as red as they are now.”

“Never mind my cheeks.  What did Mr. Dodd say?  Try and remember—­come—­’The upshot was—­’”

“The upshot was—­what was the upshot?  I forget.  No, I remember; the upshot was, if Lucy said ‘yes,’ papa would not say ‘no;’ that meant to marry him.  Now didn’t you promise me her ever so long ago—­the day you and I agreed if I went a whole day without being naughty once I should have her for ever and ever? and I did go.”

“Go to Lucy’s room, and tell her to come to me,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, in a stern, thoughtful voice, which startled poor Reginald, coming so soon after the calinerie. However, he told her it was no use his going to Lucy’s room, for she was out in the garden; he had seen her there walking with Mr. Fountain.  Reginald then ran to the window which commanded the garden, to look for Lucy.  He had scarcely reached it when he began to squeak wildly, “Come here! come here! come here!” Mrs. Bazalgette was at the window in a moment, and lo! at the end of the garden, walking slowly side by side, were Lucy and Mr. Dodd.