"Well, my dear," said Mr. Middleton, seizing this opportunity of
administering an admonition, "like him as well as Fido, if you please;
but do not pet him quite as freely as you pet Fido."
"But I will, if I choose to! Why shouldn't I?" inquired the young lady,
erecting her haughty little head.
"Because he is not a dog!" dryly answered her uncle.
"Oh! but he likes petting just as much as Fido! He does indeed, uncle; I
assure you! Oh, I noticed that."
"Nevertheless, Miss Claudia, I must object in future to your making a
pet of the poor boy, whether you or he like it or not."
"But I will, if I choose!" persisted the little princess, throwing back
her head and shaking all her ringlets.
Mr. Middleton sighed, shook his head, and turned to his wife,
whispering, in a low tone: "What are we to do with this self-willed elf? To carry out her father's
ideas, and let her nature have unrestrained freedom to develop itself,
will be the ruin of her! Unless she is controlled and guided she is just
the girl to grow up wild and eccentric, and end in running away with her
own footman."
These words were not intended for Miss Claudia's ears; but
notwithstanding, or rather because of, that, she heard every syllable,
and immediately fired up, exclaiming: "Who are you talking of marrying a footman? Me! me! me! Do you think
that I would ever marry anyone beneath me?' No, indeed! I will live to
be an old maid, before I will marry anybody but a lord! that I am
determined upon!"
"You will never reach that consummation of your hopes, my dear, by
petting a peasant boy, even though you do look upon him as little better
than a dog," said Mr. Middleton, as he drew up before the gates of
Brudenell.
A servant was in attendance to open them. And as the party were now at
home, the conversation ceased for the present.
Claudia ran in to exhibit her purchases.
Her favorite, Fido, ran to meet her, barking with delight.