Lady Malkinshaw bounced off her chair at the first note of his horrible voice, and changed towards me instantly--as if it had been _my_ fault!--in the most alarming and unexpected manner. Her ladyship's face became awfully red; her ladyship's head trembled excessively; her ladyship's eyes looked straight into mine with an indescribable fierceness. "Why am I thus insulted?" inquired Lady Malkinshaw, with a slow and dignified sternness which froze the blood in my veins. "What do you mean by it?" continued her ladyship, with a sudden rapidity of utterance that quite took my breath away. Before I could remonstrate with my friend for visiting her natural irritation on poor innocent me: before I could declare that I had seen the major actually open his garden gate to go away, the provoking brute's voice burst in on us again. "Ha! yes!" we heard him growl to himself, in a kind of shameless domestic soliloquy. "Yes, yes, yes--Sophy was sick, to be sure. Curious. All Mrs. Namby's step-children have weak chests and strong stomachs. All Mrs. Namby's own children have weak stomachs and strong chests. _I_ have a strong stomach _and_ a strong chest.--Pamby!" "I consider this," continued Lady Malkinshaw, literally glaring at me, in the fulness of her indiscriminate exasperation--"I consider this to be unwarrantable and unladylike. I beg to know----" "Where's Bill?" burst in the major, from below, before her ladyship could add another word. "Matilda! Nurse! Pamby! where's Bill? I didn't bid Bill good-bye--hold him up at the window, one of you!" "My dear Lady Malkinshaw," I remonstrated, "why blame _me_? What have I done?" "Done!" repeated her ladyship. "Done!!!--all that is most unfriendly, most unwarrantable, most unladylike----" "Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a!" roared the major, shouting her ladyship down, and stamping about the garden in fits of fond paternal laughter. "Bill, my boy, how are you? There's a young Turk for you! Pull up his frock--I want to see his jolly legs----" Lady Malkinshaw screamed, and rushed to the door. I sank into a chair, and clasped my hands in despair. "Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a! What calves the dog's got! Pamby! look at his calves. Aha! bless his heart, his legs are the model of his father's! The Namby build, Matilda: the Namby build, every inch of him. Kick again, Bill--kick out, like mad. I say, ma'am! I beg your pardon, ma'am----" _Ma'am?_ I ran to the window. Was the major actually daring to address Lady Malkinshaw, as she passed, indignantly, on her way out, down my front garden? He was! The odious monster was pointing out his--his, what shall I say?--his _undraped_ offspring to the notice of my outraged visitor. "Look at him, ma'am. If you're a judge of children, look at him. There's a two-year-older for you! Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a! Show the lady your legs, Bill--kick out for the lady, you dog, kick out!" * * * * *