And she is a young lady not
easily baffled."
"Baffled!" Mrs. Fotheringham laughed. "What can she do?"
"Well, it's true that Oliver seems to have got another idea in his head.
What do you think of that pretty child who came yesterday--the
Mallory girl?"
Mrs. Fotheringham hesitated, then said, coldly:
"I don't like discussing these things. Oliver has plenty of time before
him."
"If he is turning his thoughts in that quarter," persisted Lady Niton,
"I give him my blessing. Well bred, handsome, and well off--what's your
objection?"
Mrs. Fotheringham laughed impatiently. "Really, Lady Niton, I made no
objection."
"You don't like her!"
"I have only known her twenty-four hours. How can I have formed any
opinion about her?"
"No--you don't like her! I suppose you thought she talked stuff last
night?"
"Well, there can be no two opinions about that!" cried Mrs.
Fotheringham. "Her father seems to have filled her head with all sorts
of false Jingo notions, and I must say I wondered Oliver was so patient
with her."
Lady Niton glanced at the thin fanatical face of the speaker.
"Oliver had great difficulty in holding his own.
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