"After Lady Harriet was fairly gone! I understand, mamma. Off with
you, Molly. Make haste, or Lady Harriet may come and ask for you as
well as mamma. I'll take care and forget where you are going to, so
that no one shall learn from me where you are, and I'll answer for
mamma's loss of memory."
"Child! what nonsense you talk; you quite confuse me with being so
silly," said Mrs. Gibson, fluttered and annoyed as she usually was
with the Lilliputian darts Cynthia flung at her. She had recourse to
her accustomed feckless piece of retaliation--bestowing some favour
on Molly; and this did not hurt Cynthia one whit.
"Molly, darling, there's a very cold wind, though it looks so fine.
You had better put on my Indian shawl; and it will look so pretty,
too, on your grey gown--scarlet and grey; it's not everybody I would
lend it to, but you're so careful."
"Thank you," said Molly: and she left Mrs. Gibson in careless
uncertainty as to whether her offer would be accepted or not.
Lady Harriet was sorry to miss Molly, as she was fond of the
girl; but as she perfectly agreed with Mrs. Gibson's truism about
"constancy" and "old friends," she saw no occasion for saying any
more about the affair, but sat down in a little low chair with her
feet on the fender. This said fender was made of bright, bright
steel, and was strictly tabooed to all household and plebeian feet;
indeed the position, if they assumed it, was considered low-bred and
vulgar.
"That's right, dear Lady Harriet! you can't think what a pleasure it
is to me to welcome you at my own fireside, into my humble home."
"Humble! now, Clare, that's a little bit of nonsense, begging your
pardon. I don't call this pretty little drawing-room a bit of a
'humble home.' It's as full of comforts, and of pretty things too, as
any room of its size can be."
"Ah! how small you must feel it! even I had to reconcile myself to it
at first."
"Well! perhaps your schoolroom was larger, but remember how bare it
was, how empty of anything but deal tables, and forms, and mats. Oh,
indeed, Clare, I quite agree with mamma, who always says you have
done very well for yourself; and Mr. Gibson too! What an agreeable,
well-informed man!"
"Yes, he is," said his wife, slowly, as if she did not like to
relinquish her rôle of a victim to circumstances quite immediately.
"He is very agreeable, very; only we see so little of him; and of
course he comes home tired and hungry, and not inclined to talk to
his own family, and apt to go to sleep."