"Oh, I 'll make it all right with her," said Sir Claude.
Maisie considered. "And with mamma?"
"Ah, mamma!" he sadly laughed.
Even for the child this was scarcely ambiguous; but Mrs. Beale endeavored to contribute to its clearness. "Your mother will crow, she 'll crow—"
"Like the early bird!" said Sir Claude as she looked about for a comparison.
"She 'll need no consolation," Mrs. Beale went on, "for having made your father grandly blaspheme."
Maisie stared. "Will he grandly blaspheme?" It sounded picturesque, almost scriptural, and her question produced a fresh play of caresses, in which Sir Claude also engaged. She wondered meanwhile who, if Mrs. Wix was disposed of, would represent in her life the element of geography and anecdote; and she presently surmounted the delicacy she felt about asking. "Won't there be any one to give me lessons?"
Mrs. Beale was prepared with a reply that struck her as absolutely magnificent. "You shall have such lessons as you 've never had in all your life. You shall go to courses."
