This latter speech was addressed to a pastry cook's boy with a large sugar temple and many conical papers containing delicacies for dessert. "Mind the hice is here in time; or there'll be a blow-up with your governor,"--and John struggled back, closing the door on the astonished Colonel. "Upon my life, they actually shut the door in our faces," said the poor gentleman. "The man is very busy, sir. There's a great dinner. I'm sure my aunt would not refuse you," Clive interposed. "She is very kind. I suppose it's different here from what it is in India. There are the children in the Square,--those are the girls in blue,--that's the French governess, the one with the yellow parasol. How d'ye do, Mary? How d'ye do, Fanny? This is my father,--this is your uncle." The Colonel surveyed his little nieces with that kind expression which his face always wore when it was turned toward children. "Have you heard of your uncle in India?" he asked them. "No," says Maria. "Yes," says Fannie. "You know mademoiselle said that if we were naughty we should be sent to our uncle in India. I think I should like to go with you." "Oh, you silly child!" cries Maria. "Yes, I should, if Clive went, too," says little Fanny. "Behold madame, who arrives from her promenade!" mademoiselle exclaimed, and, turning round, Colonel Newcome beheld, for the first time, his sister-in-law, a stout lady with fair hair and a fine bonnet and a pelisse, who was reclining in her barouche with the scarlet plush garments of her domestics blazing before and behind her. Clive ran towards his aunt. She bent over the carriage languidly towards him. She liked him. "What, you, Clive!" she said, "How come you away from school of a Thursday, sir?" "It is a holiday," said he. "My father is come; and he is come to see you."