sort of marmalade we used to have at Bretton, and which you said was as good as if it had been conserved in Scotland——"
"And which your little ladyship used to beg for my boy—do you remember that?" interposed Mrs. Bretton. "Have you forgotten how you would come to my elbow and touch my sleeve with the whisper, 'please ma'am, something good for Graham—a little marmalade, or honey, or jam?'"
"No, mama," broke in Dr. John, laughing, yet reddening; "it surely was not so: I could not have cared for these things."
"Did he or did he not, Paulina?"
"He liked them," asserted Paulina.
"Never blush for it, John," said Mr. Home, encouragingly. "I like them myself yet, and always did. And Polly showed her sense in catering for a friend's material comforts: it was I who put her into the way of such good manners—nor do I let her forget them. Polly, offer me a small slice of that tongue."
"There, papa: but remember you are only waited upon with this assiduity, on condition of being persuadable, and reconciling yourself to La Terrasse for the day."
