The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. Wood dandled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well-meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good will, that he had well-nigh silenced him most effectually. ‘Don’t dare address me by such a title. If I did not love you so much I believe I could win you by sheer force of character, for people tell me I am naturally of the dominating type. Lord help him! he's the very image of his father. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. .
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