“Now, my dear, go to your room and wash those tears away,” said he, with laughing tenderness. “You mustn’t have red eyes, or people will think I’m a perfect tyrant. But mind,” he shook his finger playfully as she smiled through her tears, “mind you don’t put too much powder on your nose.” When Winnie was gone, Canon Spratte turned to his sister with a hearty laugh. “The dear girl! Our children, Sophia, are often a sore trial to us, but we must take the rough with the smooth; at times also they give us a great deal of self-satisfaction.” “Did my ears deceive me?” asked Lady Sophia. “Or did you in fact consent to Winnie’s preposterous engagement?” “You’re surprised, Sophia? You don’t know me; you can’t understand that I should sacrifice my most cherished ideas to gratify the whim of a silly school-girl. You’re a clever woman, Sophia--but you’re not quite so clever as your humble servant.” Lady Sophia, trying to discover what was in his mind, leaned back in her arm-chair and looked at him with keen and meditative eyes. She did not for one moment suppose that he had honestly surrendered to Winnie’s obstinacy. It was her impression that Theodore was never more dangerous than when he appeared to be defeated. “I don’t understand,” she confessed. “I should have thought it was a match after your own heart,” he answered, with a mocking smile. “You have always affected to look down upon our family. Surely you ought to be pleased that the descendant of your ancestral green-grocer should marry the near connection of a coal-heaver. They pair like chalk and cheese.” “Don’t talk nonsense, Theodore!” “I wonder if she calls him Bertie,” murmured the Canon, thoughtfully. “I wish to goodness you wouldn’t be so irritating,” said Lady Sophia, sharply. “Do you really intend Winnie to marry him?” “Of course not, my dear. I intend Winnie to marry young Wroxham.” “And do you think the best way to bring that about is to let her be engaged to somebody else?” “My dear Sophia, have you ever known me make a mistake yet?” “Frequently! Though I’m bound to say I’ve never known you acknowledge it.” Canon Spratte laughed heartily. “It comes to the same thing. Like the typical Englishman, I never know when I’m beaten.” “Good heavens, what a man it is!” she cried. “One can’t even remark that it’s a fine day without your extracting a compliment from it. Master Theodore, self-praise is no recommendation.” “Miss Sophia, your nose wants blowing,” he retorted promptly. “That I think is rather vulgar, Theodore.” Canon Spratte laughed again. “That’s just like a woman; she hits you when you’re not looking, and when you defend yourself, she cries: ‘Foul play!’” “Fiddlesticks!” There was a pause, during which Lady Sophia, knowing how anxious the Canon was to tell her about Winnie, waited for him to speak; while he, equally aware of her curiosity, determined to utter no word till she gave him the satisfaction of asking. The lady lost patience first.