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Updated: May 12, 2025
Bangs, with most uncourteous candor. "So do you, but I shouldn't be so rude as to say so. He shan't come to the dinner-ball, shall he, Daisy?" cried Nan, indignantly. "I think we had better dance now. Did you bring your fiddle, sir?" asked Mrs. Smith, trying to preserve her polite composure. "It is outside the door," and Nat went to get it.
The chief point to which George's mother objected was the notion that Mr. Warrington should have to sit down in the Temple dinner-ball, and cut at a shoulder of mutton, and drink small-beer out of tin pannikins, by the side of rough students who wore gowns like the parish-clerk. George's loyal younger brother shared too this repugnance.
"Demi and Nat will be good, but Tommy will do something bad, I know he will," replied Nan, shaking her head over the little cake-basket which she was arranging. "Then I shall send him right home," said Daisy, with decision. "People don't do so at parties, it isn't proper." "I shall never ask him any more." "That would do. He'd be sorry not to come to the dinner-ball, wouldn't he?"
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