He could not, perhaps, throw off the Dominie altogether on such occasions, but he always tried hard, and if there had been no one more formidable than "Paddy" to deal with the meal would have been comparatively pleasant and unalarming.
But there was a Mrs Patrick and a Mrs Patrick's sister, and before these awful personages the boldest Willoughbite quailed and trembled.
From the moment the unhappy guest entered the parlour these two (who were always there) fastened their eyes on him and withered him.

They spoke ceremoniously in the language in which the grand old ladies used to speak in the old story-books.

If he chanced to speak, they sat erect in their chairs listening to him with all their ears, looking at him with all their eyes, freezing him with all their faintest of smiles.

No one could sit there under their inspection without feeling that every word and look and gesture was being observed, probably with a view to recording it in a letter home; and the idea of being at one's ease with them in the room was about as preposterous as the idea of sleeping comfortably on a wasp's nest! And yet, if truth were known, these good females meant well.

They had their own ideas of what boys should be (neither having any of their own), and fondly imagined that during these occasional ceremonies in the doctor's parlour they were rendering valuable assistance in the "dear boy's" education by giving him some idea of the manners and charms of polite society! It was in such genial company that Riddell, the head classic of Willoughby, was invited to bask for a short time on the evening of the day before the appointment of the new captain.