"
Miss Matty cared much more for the little circumstance of her being
a very good card-player.
"Mrs Fitz-Adam--I suppose" -
"No, madam. I must draw a line somewhere. Mrs Jamieson would not,
I think, like to meet Mrs Fitz-Adam. I have the greatest respect
for Mrs Fitz-Adam--but I cannot think her fit society for such
ladies as Mrs Jamieson and Miss Matilda Jenkyns."
Miss Betty Barker bowed low to Miss Matty, and pursed up her mouth.
She looked at me with sidelong dignity, as much as to say, although
a retired milliner, she was no democrat, and understood the
difference of ranks.
"May I beg you to come as near half-past six to my little dwelling,
as possible, Miss Matilda? Mrs Jamieson dines at five, but has
kindly promised not to delay her visit beyond that time--half-past
six." And with a swimming curtsey Miss Betty Barker took her
leave.
My prophetic soul foretold a visit that afternoon from Miss Pole,
who usually came to call on Miss Matilda after any event--or indeed
in sight of any event--to talk it over with her.
"Miss Betty told me it was to be a choice and select few," said
Miss Pole, as she and Miss Matty compared notes.
"Yes, so she said. Not even Mrs Fitz-Adam."
Now Mrs Fitz-Adam was the widowed sister of the Cranford surgeon,
whom I have named before.
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