“Very good, Ma,” said her conciliatory son. “There is nothing like being open to discussion.”
“I hope not, my dear,” returned the old lady, evidently shut to it.
“Well! Mr. Neville, on that unfortunate occasion, commits himself under provocation.”
“And under mulled wine,” added the old lady.
“I must admit the wine. Though I believe the two young men were much alike in that regard.”
“I don’t!” said the old lady.
“Why not, Ma?”
“Because I don’t ,” said the old lady. “Still, I am quite open to discussion.”
“But, my dear Ma, I cannot see how we are to discuss, if you take that line.”
“Blame Mr. Neville for it, Sept, and not me,” said the old lady, with stately severity.
“My dear Ma! Why Mr. Neville?”
“Because,” said Mrs. Crisparkle, retiring on first principles, “he came home intoxicated, and did great discredit to this house, and showed great disrespect to this family.”
“That is not to be denied, Ma. He was then, and he is now, very sorry for it.”
“But for Mr. Jasper’s well-bred consideration in coming up to me next day, after service, in the Nave itself, with his gown still on, and