H. C. Bailey

“ He was glad when his father spoke of going, though he found himself talking some folly against it, on Alison's side, who jovially mocked the Colonel for shyness. But Colonel Boyce, it appeared, had made up his mind, and Harry was surprised at the masterful ease with which, keeping the empty fun still loud, he extricated himself and his unwilling son.
They were all at the door, a noisy, laughing company, and the horses waited.
"It's no use, ma'am," Harry cried, "he knows how to get his way, monsieur mon père."
"Pray heaven he hath not taught his son the art!" ”

“ All this was flowering out of her peacock blue velvet, and Harry, I infer, went mad.
She never expanded into the larger extravagances of the hoop, preferring to trust to her own shape. Her waist made no pretence of fine-ladyship, but the bodice was close laced à la mode to parade the riches of her bosom. Strong and gloriously alive, and abundantly a woman—so she smiled at the world.
It was a delirious hour for Harry, that dinner. He knew that Alison was pleased to be in the gayest spirits, and his father, in his father's own flamboyant style, seconded her heartily. ”

“ The old gentleman let himself down with a grunt into the largest chair in her drawing-room. "Now who the plague is this kissing fellow?"
"Sure, sir, it's the gentleman Mr. Hadley told you of," said Alison meekly. She hit both her birds. Mr. Hadley and his uncle looked at each other. Sir John snorted. Mr. Hadley shrugged and gave an acid laugh.
"What, what, that fellow of Waverton's? Od burn it, miss, he's a starveling usher."
"Oh, sir, don't be hasty. I dare say he'll be fat when he's old." ”