Jervas Vereker!" she exclaimed at last, and in tones of such chilling
haughtiness that I, for one, felt very like shivering. There fell
another awful silence, aunt Julia sitting very upright, hands clenched
on the arms of her chair, dark brows bent against my uncle Jervas, who
met her withering glance with all his wonted impassivity, while my
uncle George, square face slightly flushed, glanced half-furtively
from one to the other and clicked nervous heels together so that his
spurs jingled.

"George!" exclaimed my aunt suddenly. "In heaven's name, cease
rattling your spurs as if you were in your native stables."

"Certainly, m'dear Julia!" he mumbled, and stood motionless and
abashed.

"'Pon me life, Julia," sighed my uncle Jervas, "I swear the years but
lend you new graces; time makes you but the handsomer--"

"Begad, but that's the very naked truth, Julia!" cried uncle George.
"You grow handsomer than ever."

"Tush!" exclaimed my aunt, yet her long lashes drooped suddenly.

"Your hair is--" said uncle Jervas.

"Wonderful!" quoth uncle George. "Always was, begad!"

"Tchah!" exclaimed my aunt.

"Your hair is as silky," pursued my uncle Jervas, "as abundant and as